The Dollmaker- fic
Title: The Dollmaker
Author: nebula_desert
Pairing: Dante x Lyra
Summary: From the moment Dante first saw her, she knew Lyra would be her perfect living doll. And Lyra...what she didn't know wouldn't hurt anyone.
Warnings: Some sexual content.
Rating: T
Dante had only needed to take one look at Lyra to know she'd be perfect for her in every way.
She had that cropped black hair, gleaming smooth and youthful, cut sharp as a lance; skin creamy in texture and coloring; that small, lean body, that could hold her and her ancient thoughts beautifully. A pretty doll of a girl.
Lyra was alchemically gifted and had come to Dante, hearing tell from someone who had heard of a legendary elder alchemical master having once lived in her forest. To Lyra's surprise, Dante had lived there; the old woman who Lyra saw something young inside. That didn't mean she was correct in seeing that, though.
Lyra, dear that she was, never quite got it, did she? Oh, Dante helped her learn what she thought she needed to learn, helped her learn what would be beneficial, but didn't give it all away. Never did Lyra think that what Dante had taught her was just a veil to cover up another world that she was a tool in. She didn't know the half of it.
Dante taught Lyra, but saying she was her teacher simplified matters by a lot. She shaped Lyra, so to speak. Found a young girl trying to do something just out of reach, Lyra didn't quite put her finger on it- and Dante had built up from there.
From the time she first saw her at her doorway, Dante knew she'd make perfection of Lyra.
Lyra already was the perfect container- she unknowingly was at the ready, and would remain so until all that remained of her was her body. It wouldn't be hers anymore.
But that would all come into place when and only when the time was right.
Oh, she truly was perfect. She let Dante design her, or didn't even notice; and if she did, she didn't care. Her cream-colored, cream-textured back opposed the satin sheets, and it would be uncovered as Dante pulled strings and tight laces on an old corset- it's a good feeling, isn't it? She said- and Lyra would gasp in her young way as her young flesh was compressed and pushed up, and Lyra would rise and put on her maid's dress, and the alchemical symbol on her pendant would swing about her neck. Today I'm going to teach you something very important, important and forbidden. You'll never use it.
But the knowledge, girl, there's a reason I'm giving it to you.
That Lyra, she underwent a transformation with Dante. Came in wanting to know everything that was to be known about helping others with her abilities; ended up knowing what no previous experience could ever have prepared her for.
Lyra's artfully crafted, soft lips had raised, parting when she heard this knew knowledge, what wasn't supposed to be done, sticking your feet in rapids and jumping in- human transmutation. Philosopher's stones. Lyra hadn't heard all Dante had in her mind, of course, but Dante thought it wouldn't hurt anything or anyone to put it in front of Lyra, right where she couldn't see it.
Lyra would never see what was right in front of her. Someone who didn't know better would mourn that, see it as a poor young woman with so much promise just vanishing, helpless and unmourned.
But she didn't vanish, far from it.
If Lyra had vanished, where would the course of events have gone? Wherever her soul had gone, possibly, one must try to make perfect sense of it.
Dante's hands that last day had found Lyra. Undoing her corset for the night.
She had taken Lyra's voluminous dress, unbuttoned it from the back, Lyra stiffening at the cold draft from the room touching her. Dante's weathered hands stroked Lyra's small shoulders.
No need for modesty, girl.
Lyra had unhooked the clasp of the corset, and Dante had pulled the strings out, loosening it, slipping her hand underneath the brocade fabric to loosen it further, until Lyra had reached back to tug it off.
Her body was like cream spilling out against the dark fabric of the bedsheets. You are not the age you look, are you, Mistress?
I am as ageless as a doll, she had almost laughed, and if Lyra could have seen what she truly meant, she would not have smiled her clear smile along with the statement.
Lyra's throat was almost sculpted, swanlike, it trailed down to her chest, her breasts, ribs and soft stomach down to her arching hips. Her hands reached for her nightdress.
Have a wonderful sleep, my dear.
And as Dante leaned forward, gripping the stone in her hand, she went in and pressed her hands to Lyra's stomach, drawing her in softly and Lyra closed her eyes in comfort, and then the stone was coursing, and Lyra as she was would never see with her eyes that opened next.
A moment. Lyra was still on the bed, young and beautiful, as if she had just gone to sleep or had been lain down, and Dante was not the same. A moment. Lyra was no longer still.
If Lyra could have seen that china doll body- and who is to say, somehow, she hadn't?- rising, looking at such young and lovely arms and soft hair, standing up easily, looking in the mirror…what would she have thought of this doll come to life?