Work Text:
Wooden hands chipped away. Clear crystal evaporated. Ice never melting by the fire. Perpetual spears of coldness crushed lungs that had been replaced by a hollow shell. A silent crying corpse. The galaxy reflected in white eyes, violet mixed with silver blood. The decaying shell cracked, the imprisonment fractured, it hid the cold face still filled with longing.
The designs were scattered across the floors, the pages of a repeating face. Gold might as well be flowing out of the broken star. The hair has stretched out, reaching across the sky like wires. The body was preserved, a moment that was engraved in ice, internally bound to reality.
Using his body as a base he crafted new joints. They were rough, unrefined, the seams of sanded-down wood would not work. The core was damaged, its power was still so strong, the forest of lilac and burning ice protected the creation.
He tried to work in pieces, as a whole. The body was still not right. The face was still too sharp, the eyes still too dull. One was larger than it should be. The fingers were too long, the fingernails not blunt enough. The color was close but off, the undertone was too much of an olive, it needed more warmth in the cheeks. It needed to be perfect. It needed to work, it would work. The body would be perfect, the body would work. The final piece had been collected, the work he had been put into all of this would pay off. The gnosis would power this puppet of stars.
His hands ran down crystal cheeks. His lips traveled over the pulse in his memory, his fingers still found the hand that once had fixed him. It shattered at a touch, the fingers broke off at the joints. The dust of broken glass looked like snow falling down from the heavens. A thin layer of dust across the floor so you could see footprints as he walked around the room.
He cried to his lonesome. Mourning a shell in front of him. He strung hollow limbs together. He reconnected the joints, pulling tightly on the string. You were more complex. The string would have burned away at his skin, it should have but he had been made to handle much more. He would build a stronger one than his own, this one will be able to use the coveted piece as a continuous power source. It would work if it had to. He could not survive watching the crystal turn to dust.
His hands needed to be retouched, the damage from trying to pry into the crystal cell had chipped away at his hands, a puppet may not bleed, but it would need to be repaired. He needed his hands in perfect condition, he needed them to be steady as he finished this project. His hands were untrained, but he had made this body to be able to have alterations, he was smarter in that sense. He allowed things to be updated and he allowed for maintenance. This would be the perfect body.
He placed the new heart inside. Violet energy sparked, it ran through the strings and joints like blood. It lets elemental power mix with the porcelain like skin, carved fingers and joints. The varnish on the eyes shined as did the lips. The eyes twitched, shifting, traveling across the room the head turned, the fingers twitched. He took the final piece of the heart you once had, he replaced it, using it now as a brain.
They blinked, the eyes shifted as if reading the memories, he could see the heart flicker, before it tumbled out onto the floor. The eyes looked down, the body slumped.
His hands reached down grabbing the gnosis. He cradled it to his chest for a moment. Then overcome with anger and distaste he shattered one of the prototype limbs against the floor. The shards scattered underneath the furniture to collect dust. The puppet sank to the floor holding a chess piece to where his heart should be, he was sure that if you had been here now you would never leave him again.