it’s all his, the world... it’s his, everything...

that was the last thing you heard from the whispers of the shadows before suddenly you woke up. opening your eyes for the first time, you couldn’t see a single thing as your vision began to focus. as a lone soul, you didn't know why or how you were created, you just woke up on a strange table with blue strings, sharp tools, scattered papers, art materials, and other inanimate objects that look just like you.

curious and young, you wandered across the huge table you awoke on, eventually, you came across a cracked mirror and looked at yourself in the broken reflection - it was then you realized you were unfinished. the paint that resembled your skin was chipped off, your joints weren’t fully articulate. you were some unfinished project. and ever since that fateful day, you roam around the shadow realm without a real purpose. you didn't even know who your master was - if you even had one.

until now, that is.

one day or night - there was no sense of time in this place, after all - as you meandered around the endless abyss you called home, your footsteps echoing throughout the middle of nowhere as a pair of blue eyes from afar watched you. his interest was piqued. suddenly, your tiny puppet body fell to the ground at the sound of loud, humongous footsteps. you rubbed your eyes as you regained your senses, your eyes widening as you had to tilt your head up to meet a jester’s eyes. he was giant, wearing this sinister smile that could scare anyone. “well, well, well, what do we have here? you don’t seem like a cookie... hmm.”

the clown stared down at you curiously, trying to figure out what you were as he lazily summoned glowing blue puppet strings that wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground. he leaned in close to you and your face, examining you with wide eyes. an unsettling sight for anyone in their right mind. “a puppet? of mine?” he asked, prodding at your cracks rudely. “but how did you...? my, my, you aren’t normal, are you?”