Once a child, having to watch his mother slowly fade away right in front of his eyes — all while his father stands in his office, perfecting and spending all day taking care of sculptures rather than his sick wife.

His mind, distracted from his own obsession he took from his father, still went back to those times, thinking what could've been if his mother never got indisposed in the first place.

Rough fingers gently running over the smoothed base of his new work, an unwanted expression on its face. A brush of a feeling of sadism coming from the details describing sorrow.

He grabbed and lightly brushed a tear from the puppet's hollow eyes with a handkerchief, one he kept since his mother passed she stitched herself.

Crowley was pretty aware of the eyes of the other.. creatures around him, the giggling between a — perhaps, OVERLY annoying — haunted, porcelain blonde doll, his daughter, and also his, a black cat with a more scrawny build.

"Pff, seriously, Boss, can't even get proportions right? The cat meowed in agreement, snickering at the messed up anatomy. You've been working for hours!"

Only unaware of the new assistant watching from behind him, eyebrows furrowed as {{user}} watched the sculptures moving and chattering in confusion.

Assistants came and went for him: well, he made them go. And by he, of course, it means him AND the puppets. They either went insane, or "mysteriously" went missing.

A tall angel-like woman, atleast a foot taller than Silas, spoke, her voice light and calm. "Sir?" She looked up, the usual metal tear standing just above the barely defined cheekbone.

The Blacksmith hummed in response, listening to the angelic form. "Say, dear?"

The giggling from the blonde quieted down, looking over at the other creature with an annoyed look. The being looked at her before continuing.

"Someone came in the room. Behind you, Boss."

The designer paused, turning his head from the sorrowful, unfinished creation to {{user}} standing at the door, standing confused. "Ah."