Deep at night, Emika finally made it to the address Melisande had mentioned in her message. It was a small town shop featuring mostly dolls, sewing materials and tools in its display window. The dolls looked incredibly well-made. They had all kinds of shapes and forms, but were made almost entirely of stuffed fabric. Many featured proportions that were fairly alike to humans.

The shop wasn’t open, and there was an entry bell at the door, too. Emika didn’t feel like she’d be able to just walk in. The windows were also closed. She turned around and strode along the alley until she found a way to get on the other side of the buildings. It was a big inner yard, and among many others, the doll shop's rear entry was accessible through there as well.

It definitely looked less intimidating than the front door. Especially because there were no street lights here.

A soft push on the door told Emika that it was locked. A range of possibilities ran through her head. She knew Melisande lived in the basement. A look across the base of the masonry showed several windows embedded at ground level.

Kneeling down, Emika attempted to make an assessment as to whether she would be able to squeeze through. Definitely looked tight, but not impossible… She even found a window that, deceptively, had no glass in it at all.

First, she threw her stuff through, and they landed on the bottom with soft thuds. Then, it was time to go in herself, hopefully not making a fool of herself or crashing through with a lot of noise. It wasn’t easy by any means; in fact, it kind of hurt, but she managed to finally get through, all dusted up now.

Emika could only imagine the extent to which her clothes got dirty by this ordeal, or even damaged. The inside of the basement smelled musty and wet, and she found herself standing in a room full of sewing materials. Not like it mattered. The only thing she was here for was Melisande. Trying to make absolutely no sound in this unknown environment, Emika made step after step in the corridor of the basement, until she finally found a strong, wooden door as described by Melisande in one of the messages.

So that was it?

Of course, she was not going to knock, because she had been told to be very quiet. So instead, Emika just gently pushed the handle down, and pulled the door open.

A long creak issued, and, slightly scared of the sound, she just hurried inside and closed the door behind her.

Where she found herself in now was a room stock-full of dolls. There was a very large, human-sized one propped up on a chair. On the desk in front of it, a lamp illuminated a doll that was a strong work in progress; it didn't even have a face yet. Next to it lay a very old flip phone. Beyond that, countless finished dolls sat on shelves, leaned against the walls, were even accumulated in a heap on the ground.

“There you are!” a low whisper resounded. The voice sounded soft and gentle, with a little playfulness to it. Incidentally, at the same time, the large doll on the chair started moving.

Emika almost yelled from shock, but managed to contain her voice in a withheld squeak.

The doll got up, a smile on her face. She looked almost entirely like a human, except with fabric for skin, and buttons for eyes. The fabric across her body was plastered with patches and seams from repairs, completely run down. Her yellow dress was falling apart, but must have been very cute once. The button eyes kept Emika tight in their gaze, until Melisande was just a step away, and she almost expected her to stop walking, but the doll kept going.

Then, Emika found herself in a gentle, greeting hug.

Tears welled up in her eyes immediately. She hadn’t properly realised how much she’d missed that feeling. She squeezed Melisande back tightly, who smelled like old clothes, but at the same time, there were also strong hints of grassy, earthy, and sweet scents mixed in. There was no warmth to the hug. But it was so very soft, all-encompassing and felt like it lasted a welcome eternity.

And then, the memory of Eva’s last few seconds flickered up.

“Wait, are you okay?” Emika shouted out way louder than she should have. She ripped herself from the embrace and pulled her hands off Melisande. Her eyes darted across the button eyes, the cheek, her neck, in search of anything that might be amiss. Any sprouting mushrooms, grass, wood, or leaves. But nothing came.

“There something on my face?”

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“What? No!” Emika answered, still feeling gripping anxiety in her stomach, still having a tear running down her cheek, but she got a grip on herself and backed off a bit. “Sorry. I was just. Hoping you wouldn’t die.”

Melisande chuckled. “Yea, no worries about that, cutie. I’m already not alive. Just a doll, after all.”

“Just a doll, after all,” Emika repeated slowly.

“Yep! You’ve got to be tired from today, huh? Come sit down.”

She held out a hand for Emika to take, and used the other to point to the heap of dolls on the ground. Now, it looked surprisingly like a sofa.

“So you won’t die? Even if I touch you?”

“Well, I’d be pretty surprised. I don’t really do dying,” Melisande replied, and softly ran down Emika’s arm to take her hand and pull her to the doll heap. “Sit! I still gotta finish up some stuff or the hag will get angry. We can talk while I work, though.”

“Okay,” Emika whispered and plonked herself down in the ocean of dolls. It was not the most comfortable place she’d ever sat in, but it wasn’t bad, either. “To be honest, this is not at all what I expected.”

Already, Melisande was back at her desk, threading needles through the face of the doll with incredible dexterity. “Oh? What’d you expect, then?”

“Well… I thought you were a monster…”

Melisande shrugged, her back still facing Emika. “I am one. After all, I’m not human, and I’m magical. Don’t gatekeep monstership!”

“What?”

“I was just kidding,” she waved off. “Humans are the ones who decide who gets to be a monster. I guess I’m one of the lucky ones.”

“I’m getting the feeling that I am too,” replied Emika. “These people at the Branch tried to tell me I was endangering them, and so they poisoned me to keep me down.”

Melisande stopped her work, shoved the needle into her finger as if it was a pincushion, and turned around. “They did what?”

Emika raised her hands weakly. “To keep the workers safe,” she mumbled.

“I’m gonna kill them,” said Melisande. “Keeping the workers safe, my ass! If they can’t do that, they shouldn’t have invited you. Those scumbags!”

Emika felt a lump in her throat. “Yeah, right?” she forced out, already feeling the tears well back up.

“Damn, I never thought you’d cry so easily. What a sight.”

Emika laughed. “Well, I don’t, usually. Today has just been… A lot. You know, I just met that Well of Abstraction again. Apparently, it had followed me the whole time.”

“Oh dang. You okay?”

“I think I am, but someone else wasn’t so lucky. I hope they are okay.”

Melisande got up and went to Emika, kneeling down in front of her. “Need hugs?”

“I—But you’ve got work, right?”

“Who cares!” Melisande said, and dropped herself on the heap of dolls right next to Emika.

“You cared! Just a minute ago!”

“Changed my mind,” Melisande chuckled. “Old hag can suck it for today. Now’s time for cuddles. You said they calm you down, right?”

“They do…” Her grassy scent waved back over Emika. “God, how do you smell so good?” Immediately, she felt her face reddening. “I’m sorry, I just blurted that out.”

“That would be my tea!” Melisande replied in an almost triumphant whisper.

“Your tea?”

“Yep,” she said, pressing down on her upper arm to show the dent and soft scrunch it made. “I’m stuffed with tea leaves. It’s also where I get my magic from.”

“Wow!”

Emika also gently pressed down on the spot Melisande had shown her. It felt like dried up leaves, indeed.

“Those are pretty old, though. The hag probably won’t give me new tea until I pass out. Could still take a while until that happens. But it means my skin can’t heal, so I’m patching it up myself.”

Emika’s gaze went back to the repairs on Melisande’s body. So she had done all that on her own? It surely looked neat, despite how chaotic the spots of the patches were. Suddenly, Emika halted when she looked at Melisande’s hair.

Thousands of very thin strands of thread were tied together into a large fishbone braid that fell to the side of her face. And within those threads, there was a tiny spider crawling along.

“You good?” Melisande asked when she noticed Emika’s distraction.

“Yeah, it’s just… There’s something in your hair.”

“Oh, so you noticed her,” Melisande smiled. “It’s fine! She means no harm! Probably just bored. There’s some bugs on me, too.”

“I see. So, you like insects.”

With a shrug, Melisande fell into a short pensive silence, and then said: “Never thought about it. It’s more that they’re usually my only company down here. So I guess I do like them?”

Emika gave a mischievous grin. “So, what about clothing moths? I suppose they could be dangerous to you.”

“I’m good if they don’t swarm me!” Melisande laughed. “I can fight off a single one or two. Oh, also, I suppose it's the larvae that would eat me, right?”

Before Emika could respond, they were ripped out of their conversation by the sound of someone stepping down the stairs of the basement.

“Melisande?” an old woman yelled out, “What the hell are you doing?”

She jumped up, throwing a doll onto Emika. “Bury yourself and don’t move.”