Work Text:
You slip the prybar in the gap between the doll's chest and abdomen and push, causing a sudden rush of air to blast past you and into its torso. Once the air in the room finally becomes still again, you smell it. There's a heavy carbon scent, like gunpowder or burnt wood. The doll looks stares up at you from the floor, but does not resist.
You pry more and more, hoping to let some light in to see what's inside, but the blackness seems impenetrable, save for strange specks of brightness on the inner lining. You lean in to get a better look, but the specks always seem the same distance apart. When you tilt the body to see if you can get a better view, you nearly drop the prybar in shock.
The specks don't move, even as you move it. They're all locked in place, impossible to determine the distance of, but distinctly luminescent. Figuring that you might be able to better make them out without as much light in the room, you leave the prybar in place and kill the lights. Again, you pry the doll open. Again the air suddenly blasts past you and you pick up on that smell.
It's easier to make it all out now, but harder to understand. They aren't specks. They're stars. Not just any stars, but the stars from where you are. You recognize the constellations, you recognize how they're even matching the season, but you don't understand how any of this should be possible. You close the doll back up and slip the prybar out. Perhaps you're better off not knowing.
At least you know you'll always have access to the view.