A lonesome tinkerer in his old shop saw the world from his dingy window. Restless hands closing and opening as clocks tick tock in the background. Life was too short, yes too short so the lonesome tinkerer turns forever more from his picture window and sets to create a longer life. This is how Elizabet is born, eyes of glass, clear as the sky shown above with sorrow dwelling deep within. Absent of a true soul, she is depends on the spinner located on her back. The tinkerer winds the doll up as far as it would allow it, when the wind would die was unknown. A mystery in it's own way.
Elizabet's legs are bound from hips to toe in a stream of bandages old and new a worn short too-too wraps around the thin waist of the doll and scarlet shoes to adorn her feet. Same can be said for the top she wears, wrappings weaving upon her torso to the very ends of her wrists. Sounds emitting when she moves her fingers, the batting of her eyes. The movement of her mouth brings a soft humming as the key upon her back turns.
The lonesome tinkerer was successful, but upon his last breath he gives her a name. And a lonesome existence...
Bandages old and new weave from neck to toe, leaving her hands free of them. She wears a too too around her waist and crimson shoes to tie the questionable outfit.
Streaming jet black doll hair cascades down her back trimmed at the bangs to frame her pale expressionless face. Dark lashes make the sky blue glass eyes stand out.
A wind-up key she usually keeps hanging off her hip. Rustic, but still useable.
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