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Isabella’s first impression of the doll was simple. A princess-like girl who shouldn’t fit the role of a servant. An annoyingly perfect beauty who could go anywhere she wanted. On top of that, Violet seemed healthy, which probably made her night's rest way more comfortable than hers. She had it all.
During classes, students would stare at the handmaid with admiration. Isabella mouthed insults at her classmates for not paying attention, despite being the one with the lowest marks. Violet's corrections echoed in her mind: Please use the outermost knife, Please say “want to” instead of “wanna”, Please… She even complained the doll was acting like an absolute smartass.
"You’re really gonna stay three months?" The typewriter's loud clinks come to a halt. Violet innocently glances at Isabella from the dorm's small table.
The blonde girl regards her 3-month commitment and her student’s wish to keep quiet about non educational matters. She believes it is a long period of time. However, she takes responsibility for Isabella the best she can. The stern girl kicks her shoes off and heads to bed.
"There’s no one you’ll miss?"
Violet pauses. Isabella notices. The mattress flattens as she leans in, intrigued. To her surprise, the doll admits to it. She snuggles under the covers, jealousy howling like the night breeze.
An oddly comforting touch wakes Isabella. Failing to fully stretch, she realizes Violet’s prosthetic hand squeezing hers gently, adding a weight and firmness only she’d recognize.
"How are you feeling?"
The morning sunlight bleeds through the curtains, radiating a glow that reaches the blonde girl’s bright eyes. Isabella has seen countless eyes of the same color in the academy, but none as vibrant as the pair in front of her. Warmth spreads across her cheeks, guiding her eyes elsewhere. The metal tickles her hand even after drawing it back.
"Miss Isabella?"
"Ah- good morning."
The doll yawns, fatigue unnoticed. Staying up all night watching the other girl was trivial, if anything. She’d gone to war and kept watch for long, long hours and even days. This time around she watched over her roommate, whom she has formed some sort of connection to. Isabella tries to enjoy the soft mattress for as long as she can before her tutor pulls her out of bed to start the day.
"You’ll be late."
A routine of sorts developed on its own. They would attend classes in the mornings, eat lunch, discuss lectures, read books from the library, go on walks, have dinner and then retire for the night. With each passing week, Isabella felt less irritated by Violet’s remarks. It took her some time to get familiar with the more lenient tutoring, which proved to be more suitable. Her speaking and writing improved a good amount in the short span of a month. She’s progressed very well, but a certain barrier holds her back.
Violet Evergarden.
Isabella understands the situation almost too well. The doll sent by her father to tutor her shares her room and sleeps in the same space. They see each other morning and night. Violet is unavoidable. Isabella nearly had to control her breathing whenever they locked gazes for a second too long. Her past efforts to tolerate her tutor have started to crumble, now focused on building a stronger connection between them.
After a grueling week of exam reviews and structured tutoring, there’s one thing that never fails to provide — a warm bath. Isabella prepares the tub with water at her preferred temperature and slides in its glory, body instantly loosening. The water ripples mildly as she adjusts. An inexplicable force drives her to extend an invitation to her roommate. Even the best of soldiers need rest, right? The blonde princess obliges after an initial refusal. A nervous wave looms over Isabella, this being the first time she’s ever shared a bath. Completely lost in the moment, a familiar voice brings her back to her senses.
The somewhat spacious tub became a bit tight once Violet joined. Two pairs of pale knees peeking above the water, facing each other from opposite sides.
"I apologize for making the bath cramped."
"It’s fine," Isabella replies.
The doll’s prosthetic arms gleam in the candlelight, capturing the other girl’s attention. A question quickly formed itself.
"Are they waterproof?" she asked, gesturing to the artificial limbs.
"My arms are designed to withstand exposure to water. The internal components will not be harmed — you can feel them if you’d like to examine closer."
Violet’s suggestion catches Isabella off guard. She thought the blonde girl would be more particular over corporal matters, but it seems not to be the case. As she inches forward, water sloshes softly. Her hand lingers just above Violet’s metal arm. The act of caressing an artificial limb suddenly felt intimate. She thanks the dim lighting for shrouding the princess’s exposed skin. If the sight was any clearer, she’d be completely flustered by now.
The doll remains still. She acknowledges the fine sensors of her prosthetic arm, transmitting the girl’s eager touches with stunning accuracy. It’s quite strange how an artificial limb could register such a thing. Despite the nature of the situation, Violet found herself at ease. Such a shame bedtime peeks from the corner of her eye. Isabella’s probes come to an end when the blonde girl mentions the late hour. A cloud of envy fills the bathroom air, wishing she stayed a bit longer. The girl finds herself tracking Violet’s arms as she wraps herself in a towel. The comforting warmth of the tub became cold, amplifying the doll’s absence. No longer feeling the urge to soak, she follows her roommate’s steps, replaying the fresh scene in her head.
Isabella lays in bed, reminiscing about the debutante ball. Her and Violet’s graceful waltz, their white attire shimmering under the chandelier’s glow, and the awestruck stares of the guests replayed in her mind. The scene resembled that of a wedding. Isabella’s heart stutters at the vivid image resembling that of a wedding, vision burning itself into her consciousness. Violet, typing away on the small table, fills another page. The contrast between their activities triggers something in Isabella, something that she wants to delve in further before her princess knight steps out of the academy’s campus tomorrow morning.
"You never take that off, don’t you?" she asks, pointing at the green pendant the doll wears on her neck.
The blonde girl nods.
"Only when I bathe," she reaches for the pendant, rubbing it lightly.
"You’ve had it for a while now, haven’t you?"
The blonde girl nods again. She pauses, setting her bright eyes on the half-filled page.
"...It’s beautiful," Isabella comments, cutting through the delicate silence, "I never gave anyone anything."
"That’s not true, Miss Isabella," Violet turns to her. The girl’s eyes water, "You taught me that holding hands can warm the heart."
The doll presses her prosthetic hands over her companion’s. Isabella slightly recoils at the freezing touch of her tutor’s metal palm, expecting it to be somewhat warm due to her earlier typing session.
"You have given me more than you’ll ever know."
Isabella’s pulse climbs faster than a firework launch. Hearing those words being spoken by Violet’s sweet voice agitates her in a way she didn’t think was possible. A warm flush spreads across her cheeks, reaching even her ears. Hiding the effect it had on her would’ve been futile as the source of it all stands by for a response. The blonde girl furrows her eyebrows, scanning for signs of a cough fit.
"Miss Isabella?"
"I’m really gonna miss you."
It comes out broken.
Demoralized.
Real.
Each syllable echoes with rawness that tug at Violet’s heart. Despite not feeling as dejected about the separation as the girl sobbing in her arms, she remains gentle. The touch of her synthetic limbs against Isabella’s tender skin is akin to completing one of humanity’s many puzzles.
Time stops being relevant, its constant ticking becoming neglected by the doll’s student. As they walk towards the exit, Isabella leads the way with Violet following close behind. The steady clacks of the blonde girl’s heels create a strangely reassuring sound, comforting her pupil’s current unease.
Usually the outdoors would be liberating, but the weight of her tutor’s departure appears to be suffocating. The difference in their occupations became visible under the academy’s archway. Its emblematic passage, witness of countless welcomes, stands by for their exchange.
"I will repay your kindness."
"I don’t want you to," Violet replies, unsure of her intention.
"You’ll go wherever I desire, right?"
Violet nods, poker-faced as always. Trying to extend the moment as much as she can, Isabella takes slow, eternal steps towards the doll. Admiring her captivating eyes, a sigh escapes her lips, followed by a shaky exhale. From the depths of her being, the arrow of courage is drawn back and released in a selfish move.
The impulsiveness spread like a rash. Her hands grab Violet’s frilly collar, failing to notice the absence of her pendant necklace. With ease, Isabella pulled their bodies together, lips meeting in a sudden clash. The sudden gesture would certainly be etched into the doll’s memories. Completely caught off guard, the blonde girl couldn’t help but be curious about whatever it was that drove Isabella to take action. The doll’s hesitation only twisted the jagged edge of yearning within her.
"I go wherever my customers desire."
The morning light paints over the shade on their faces. An unfamiliar warmth appears on her cheeks, strangely avoiding Isabella’s hopeful gaze. While the breeze slips between them, an indistinct ruffle quickly catches the tutor’s attention. Even though the girl offers an envelope, Violet can’t seem to stop recalling the recent event.
"Please, read it while you travel." Isabella’s last request leads the auto memory doll to open the envelope on her way to Leiden.
Dear Violet,
I abandoned my name because of love.
But if you keep saying it
like a magic word,
my hope that we’ll meet again
will never fade away.
So, please, Violet, say my name when you’re lonely.