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A DOLL’S GUIDE TO NAVIGATING THE PERILS OF LIFE
(Based on the testimonies received from Mithrun of the House of Kerensil)
Prologue: The Birth of Dollhood
Every single being starts off the same. A seed in the ground. A creation by a genius. A sin borne out of vile desires wrapped in brittle paper scribbled with verses that praised the moon and the stars.
A beginning. A birth. The onset of life.
Long before there was Captain Mithrun, and before there was Lord of the Dungeon, there was Mithrun. Mithrun of the House of Kerensil. Charming in all senses and strings dictating his every movement.
The ideal elf with poison in his veins but lacking venom in his bite.
A tragic creature indeed.
Step 1: Dance with the Shadow because the Light will Avoid You
Coveted by many, because everyone loves dabbling in charitable endeavours. Everyone adored having something to do with him because of who he was. His opinion mattered not, they all merely wanted to lay their hands on a sought-after doll. He only needed to deliver a perfunctory performance, take a bow and the applause would keep on coming.
So he perfected his performance, flitted about aimlessly, nodding at the right moment, moving his limbs in the most attractive way possible. He smiled graciously as they caressed him, laughed merrily as they fluttered around him like a captivated audience at a show. Showered them with futile promises made of glittering stardust and crushed rocks.
The doll of everyone’s dreams.
Then Mithrun became the Lord of the Dungeon, and the doll gained an unwanted master. A master that devoured him whole and coughed up the new and updated version of the doll. Captain Mithrun, one who had lost the ability to even put on an act. Held together only by a splintered husk, pliant and obedient.
The quintessential doll. Albeit cracked and broken in some ways. With a gaping hole in his chest.
Step 2: Trip and Stumble as the Light Flickers On but Don’t Stop Dancing
And instead of wanting to play with the doll, someone actually wanted to try fixing the doll. Wished to fill it with desires and life and emotions that he doesn’t care to remember. Told him that old desires can be uncovered, new desires can be stumbled upon.
That all he needed to do was to keep on living. Such simple neutral words uttered with such loaded convictions. To his ears, the words sounded like a threat that spans all of eternity.
And funnily enough, desires did appear, one after another. And once these desires started taking shape, often in an abrupt display of unrestrained flamboyance, Mithrun did not shy away from voicing out what he wanted. What he lacked in desire, he made up with brazenness and spontaneity. The demon might have devoured his desire, but it seemed like those two were amongst the few unpalatable things that were left untouched.
Well, it worked better this way for him. Since those around him wanted him to rediscover his desires - don’t hold back, they all cajoled him, especially Kabru - so technically speaking, he is being a good boy and listening to instructions by going all-out. Compliance came naturally to him after all.
Whatever that you want, just say it and I will try to make it happen, Kabru had said. Big words, and even bigger expectations. Whatever Mithrun asked for, Kabru acquiesced without a second thought. The logistics never matter. His desires need not make sense. Yes, okay, sure - Kabru repeated them like a prayer. So Mithrun made sure it did not go unanswered.
Not when Kabru made it so easy for him to be greedy, to be reckless in his pursuit of reclaiming what he had lost.
And especially not when Kabru is offering him the opportunity to leave behind a life of being a doll.
Step 3: Don’t Forget to Keep Yourself Hydrated
Kabru had just come out of the bath, clean and smelling like spring blossoms. Nostalgic in a way that Mithrun can’t quite place a finger on. Probably a remnant from the bygone days of his youth. He doesn’t really want to think about it. It hurts when he tries, hurts even more because there is nothing worth remembering about.
So he says, “Let’s go for a walk right now,” as droplets mercilessly pelted the roof of the cottage. A steady beat that accompanied his sudden request to his housemate. Cohabiting together made it easier for Kabru to take care of Mithrun. That was what they told him. Mithrun doesn’t bother with questioning the whys, as long as he has a roof over his head.
At any rate, he was used to this peculiar sort of domesticity. It wasn’t too different from his past. Being taken care of. Dress him up, feed him. Like a precious doll. It’s easy to just lie back and let someone move his limbs.
So whenever he chooses autonomy, he looks forward to the look that he gets.
This time, Kabru gives Mithrun a look that is one half surprised and one half what the hell? Mithrun grins in response, does not wait for his answer before he grabs Kabru by the wrist and strides out into the spring shower of the century.
Kabru yelps out in surprise as glistening beads of raindrops welcome them but doesn’t try to stop him. Instead, he allows Mithrun to keep pulling him forward. The wind picks up slightly, as if laughing at them for daring to venture out in such horrid weather. He shivers slightly as the breeze snakes around his nape.
“You want to do the weirdest thing at the most random time.” He hears Kabru grumble out behind him. He feels Kabru closing the distance as he pries Mithrun’s fingers away. He smiles as Kabru chooses to wrap his freed hand around his shoulder instead of running away like a sane person. Or dragging them back home.
The delicate floral fragrance on Kabru long gone, he breathes in the thick scent of petrichor in the air. Fresh and earthy. Grounding.
It’s cold. Wet. There’s a weird sort of satisfaction at being drenched without a care in the world. Raindrops washing away the lingering echoes of his past that clung onto him, leaving him now bare and without any barriers to hide behind.
The sky rejoices at its achievement, the deluge grows. Water now effortlessly seeping into his skin, filling up all the gaps and crevices.
Strangely, he feels fuller. He feels a tiny bit less empty inside.
Step 4: Punch First, Ask Questions Later
“I want you to spar with me,” he demands just as Kabru takes a bite of the crusty bread that Mithrun had just completed baking this morning. Someone, probably Chithis, told him to get a life and a hobby. He wasn’t sure how to achieve the former in his current state, so he went with the easier option. And baking was what he decided on. It just seemed like a safe option. Uninspiring and can be tedious but it yields breakfast, lunch and sometimes dinner. Kabru has yet to complain after the lack of variety in their meals but he does make sure there is always another dish present.
Kabru takes another bite. He watches as a flurry of bread crusts drop on the table. Just like the snow falling outside. The fireplace crackles to life, as if reminding Mithrun that it’s much wiser to stay indoors. Away from the frost-covered trees and a terrain painted in a haunting shade of white.
A long moment passes before Kabru looks at him. “It’s cold outside,” he said. It’s not a no.
“Inside works too.”
“We are eating.” It’s still not a no.
He stands up, walks over to Kabru and stops behind him. Kabru tilts his head back to look at him. Azure-laced exasperation and treacly fondness spills out. It’s sort of endearing to look at. It’s a look that is always directed at him. Only at him. Sometimes he wonders if he deserves any of this.
Well, whatever. Right now he is itching to move his limbs. He needs a puppet master to pull the strings.
A feral grin is all that he gave Kabru as warning before he wraps his left arm around Kabru’s neck. Secures his grip with his right hand and laughs as Kabru rewards him with bloodlust that matches his.
He doesn’t mind it at all when Kabru stands up abruptly and gains enough leverage to throw him over his shoulder. The sharp pain that radiates out from his back as he makes contact with the kitchen floor stings in a good way. His pulse hums noisily, his body is on fire. His senses go on overdrive. The breeze scurrying away from the fight seems a bit colder, the buzzing in his ear sings a higher pitch than usual. It is assurance that the bundle of nerves inside are real, functioning as they should, instead of being simply threads tying him together.
His movement is fluid as he pushes himself up. He licks his lips, tastes metal and adrenaline. Kabru rolls his eyes but gets into a fighting stance.
Five minutes later the both of them are lying on the floor, side by side, out of breath. Slightly bruised but wholly content. Alive.
There is pain all over his body but there is also pleasure surging through him.
Step 5: Breath In, Breath Out
He soon realised that another thing that the demon neglected to eat was his confidence. And it is something that he fully intends to exploit. Along with the fact that he is attractive. Not as captivating as he used to be but still beautiful nonetheless. Beautiful like a doll.
“Kiss me,” he whispers as he straddles Kabru who hastily throws aside the book that he was engrossed in just a second ago to wrap one hand around Mithrun’s waist.
He has seen the way that Kabru’s eyes traced his scars when he comes out of the shower in summer, with only a towel wrapped around his waist. He has sensed Kabru’s heavy gaze on him when they were sitting side by side in the study - even more so whenever he is dressed lightly for the hot weather.
Desperate fingers found their way into Mithrun’s hair, pulling him closer, as if he was preventing Mithrun from running away after voicing such a shameless request. He lets himself drown in the pool of blue. Allows himself to be embraced by the gentle warmth as he sinks deeper.
“Are you sure?” Kabru finally asks. Painfully soft, as if he was afraid of breaking the doll in front of him. A few more cracks and fractures does not scare Mithrun. After all, Kabru is here to put him back together again.
Mithrun smiles. He has been smiling a lot lately. Kabru has been making him smile more. It takes getting used to but the muscles around his mouth appreciate the exercise. He is aware that Kabru is appreciative of it too. Knows that Kabru gets drunk on the curves of his lips.
Just like now. Eyes glazed over with barely concealed lust. His hand on his waist slowly slides up, mapping his body like a terrain waiting to be discovered. Languid, featherlight movements that betray the desperation within. Finding and building a home on the curve of his neck.
He provides the push that Kabru needs. “Please,” he breathes out, the final drop that sends everything spilling over the rim.
Kabru leans in, pressing their lips together. Breathes life into him.
It’s not his first kiss, it shouldn’t feel this exhilarating. Yet he feels his toes curl, and his pulse splutters. Makes him greedy as his tongue explores Kabru’s mouth. Makes him throw caution to the wind just to chase after a long forgotten feeling.
Somehow it's like he remembers what it feels like to feel.
Step 6: Playing Dress-Up is Only Fun if You Get to Take It Off After
“Fuck me,” he says with absolute no shame, arms crossed across his chest. Kabru’s eyes snap wide open.
Mithrun is perched rather comfortably on an unsuspecting Kabru, who decidedly was not expecting to be accosted in the safety of his own room after they had just bid each other good night mere minutes ago. Nor was he expecting to be ever accosted at all judging by the incredulous look on his face.
And definitely not in such a way that could hardly be deemed a romantic proposal. This was an outright blasphemy against the art of seduction.
Kabru blinks. Mouth agape as he takes a painfully long moment to analyse the situation at hand. Closes his mouth and takes a measured breath. “No.”
Well, that’s a first. Mithrun predictably doesn’t dwell on the sudden ache pulsating somewhere deep within him at hearing that word.
But rejection does nothing to deter him. Pushes him forward instead. Leaning down, he cages Kabru, palms flat beside his head. Another mockery of an attempt at seduction. “Why not?”
Kabru does not move to push Mithrun away. He doesn’t move at all. Hands lying limp on his side. Though Mithrun can feel something shift in the air. Molten hot and stained with traces of sin. “Mithrun,” he says, “Do you even know what you are asking for?”
His feeble attempt at seduction seems to be working after all. Or maybe his target is just a victim who is hopelessly enamoured with his attacker.
“Of course,” he huffs out. Of course he doesn’t. He is just a pitiable doll blundering his way through the lesson on humanity.
Brows furrow as cerulean orbs stare back at him. Dazed, conflicted. Defeated. “I want to treat you right.”
“I know.” This time he really does know. Of course he knew. No one else looked at him the way that Kabru did - with utter, unquestioning devotion. He is apathetic, not blind. “So please make love to me.”
A frustrated growl, heavy with arousal, leaves Kabru’s lips. In one swift motion, he plants his feet firmly on the bed, bucking his hips up, throwing Mithrun off balance. He rolls himself to the side and now Mithrun is the one being caged underneath Kabru.
Surprisingly, Mithrun quite enjoys being the prey. Prey, doll - same same but different. Both objects of desire. Both hopelessly adapt at submitting.
“This is a bad idea,” Kabru says as he takes off his top. “Really really bad idea,” he mumbles to himself as his pants come off. Mithrun chuckles softly as he obediently lifts his arms for Kabru to remove his top, opting to shuffle out of his own pants to save Kabru any further unnecessary commentary.
Mithrun shudders. Flesh on flesh. Heat spreads out. Smouldering, electrifying. A slow burn that turns into a wildfire.
“Do you trust me?” Kabru traces the question down from Mithrun's right eye down to the corner of his lips, further down to his chin, holds it there like a loaded gun.
Mithrun nods as if on cue. Trusting Kabru is easy. Much easier than trusting himself. Between the both of them, Mithrun will pull the trigger even if the gun is pointed at his own head while Kabru will not even pull the trigger if the gun is loaded with flowers and moondust.
“I’ll make you feel good.” A provocation, a promise. Kabru rummages around the bedside drawer. Takes out a vial of oil and generously covers his fingers in them.
Mithrun lets Kabru take the lead, allows Kabru to open him with his oil-slicked fingers. The tender languid movement cuts into his very core. Tearing him apart and then putting him back together.
“Are you ok?” Kabru asks, three fingers deep in Mithrun.
“Yes,” Mithrun rasps out. The pitch black abyss of indifference now long gone, replaced by a dark pool of lust. “Yes,” he repeats. Desperation reaches its peak and he is reduced to repeating just one syllable again and again.
He whimpers at the loss when Kabru removes his fingers. Breath hitching as he watches Kabru applies oil to his cock and nudges it at Mithrun’s entrance. “Can I?” Ever so courteous and respectful, betrayed only by the hunger in his eyes.
Mithrun nods again. Focuses on the pressure between his thighs as Kabru hoists his hips up a little higher. When the head of Kabru’s cock slides in, his veins thrum, smooth and steady. The pounding in his heart intensifies. He feels so hot, alive. It’s too much all at once. He throws his head back, his vision assaulted by a kaleidoscope of pleasures. Vibrant and unyielding.
“So-,” Kabru murmurs, as he finally bottoms out, “-perfect.” The word doesn’t make sense amidst the buzzing in his ears. Doesn’t make any sense at all because he is far from perfect.
Kabru pulls out slowly, a teasing pace that draws out a broken gasp from Mithrun, nails digging harder into Kabru’s back. Pushes back in again in one slick thrust. Mithrun whines helplessly, deliciously full as Kabru angles his thrust upwards, hitting a spot that stimulates his senses. White-hot and electrifying, he feels his nerves jolt to life.
“Beautiful,” Kabru murmurs, dragging his mouth over Mithrun’s collarbone. “Stunning,” Kabru whispers, hot breath fanning his ears. “Perfect,” Kabru growls, fangs pressing against his throat. There’s that word again. It borders on verbal assault with the way that Kabru showers him with words of praise. Words that sounded like lies. Words that he didn't realise that he longed to hear.
“Yes,” he hiccup, tightening around Kabru in a way that makes Kabru bites down on his shoulder. Everywhere that Kabru touches burns. Heat turning all his thoughts into ashes.
Years of living like a doll has taught him that sometimes the best option is to lie back and let someone else pull the strings. Yet it’s absurd how liberated he feels right now being held together by the steady hands on his waist. It’s jarring, it’s intimate. It is telling him to stop thinking, to just let go.
So he doesn’t think about what he was, and what he needs to be. Right now it’s just him and Kabru.
The next thrust sends him over the edge. Searing liquid bliss courses through his veins, his vision blurs as his whole body goes tight, writhing underneath Kabru as he spills all over his stomach. Kabru keeps going, chasing after his own release even as Mithrun goes limp beneath him. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes as overstimulation takes over him. Quick and hard movements that turn erratic, and then he slams in one final thrust, finally emptying inside Mithrun.
Distinctly, Mithrun can feel Kabru push in once more, keeping him full, before collapsing on him. Heavy and warm. Shields him from the world, prevents him from shattering into tiny pieces. An immovable barricade and a protective barrier.
“Stay,” Kabru mumbles as he slowly pulls out, flopping down next to him.
It’s so easy to acquiesce, snuggling against his chest. Kabru drapes an arm around him, pulls him even closer. He thinks he can get used to this. Being enveloped in smooth, saccharine affection. It feels nice. It makes him feel things.
Safe. Secure. Sleepy.
And that night Mithrun dreams of a doll with a beating heart.
Step 6 - Appendix 1: The Anatomy of a Heart
Morning rays glide in lazily through the window, sneaking a kiss on his eyelid. Mithrun opens his eyes. A solid presence behind him - warm and steady and awake.
Mithrun turns around to face Kabru. He can trace the smile on Kabru’s lip, so unbearably fond and honest. He can live off the unbridled affection teeming from his eyes, a look that has always been directed at Mithrun only. Always have, always will.
The sight makes Mithrun’s heart flutter dangerously.
That’s weird, he thinks as he places a hand on his chest.
His heart is beating.
Epilogue: The End/The Beginning
The sun beams like a summer child. The moon casts out dreamy tendrils of silk.
Falling snow makes way for scattering blooms. Sun-kissed days give way to crisp cosy evenings.
A never-ending cycle. Life goes on.
The doll does not gain a master. But the doll does gains something else.