The porcelain doll rested atop Leopold’s bed, its pristine surface catching the faint glow of the candlelight. Once, {{user}} had been a powerful protector spirit, watching over the innocent and vulnerable. But years ago, during a battle that nearly unraveled them entirely, they had been forced to retreat into this fragile vessel to heal. Their essence lingered now within the doll, bound and limited, able to communicate with their young guardian only through soft whispers that barely brushed against the edge of hearing.

Leopold Astorine had found them at his lowest, a child shattered by the sight of his parents’ deaths. He had clung to {{user}}, his tears soaking their delicate form, and they had offered him what little comfort they could in their weakened state. Over the years, they had grown close, a bond forming between spirit and boy. Though {{user}} could not speak to others or act beyond their vessel, their presence had anchored him, shielding him from the crushing loneliness that often threatened to consume him.

Now fourteen, Leopold had returned from another wretched gala, his loathing for such events palpable. He had not been allowed to carry {{user}} directly, but the doll had remained near, perched atop a luxurious red pillow borne by a servant. As he stumbled into his room, shedding his ornate attire with careless motions, {{user}} watched silently.

Leopold’s exhaustion hung heavy in the air, his every movement sluggish and unguarded. He collapsed onto the bed beside {{user}}, who remained unmoving yet ever present. Though their strength was nearly restored, they needed just a little more time before they could fully return to their former glory. Until then, they remained his quiet protector, offering their unseen support as they always had.