Commissioned through a YCH from Liardy
I…I can move! Wait…no…
Or so he thought. However, he had no power to move on his own. It was really all the strings. Bound to his limbs & body, controlling every movement he would ever make.
Was this even his body? Or his limbs?
Something stirred in a memory. That he was a disassembled mannequin. The hands had retrieved him from the dark storage. Hands he could not put a face to. He only saw the hands. That said they would rebuild him. But it would come at a price. He had no choice for the matter.
Now he was changed. He was smaller.
A familiar melody played as the strings made him dance. Dance for curious faces in a crowd, whom were all blurred to him. A crowd he would never be able to cry out to, for his jaws were sealed shut.
This was what he was used to do to replay this debt. Would he ever be released from this?
Eventually the music died down and the crowd dispersed. The hand took him again, carrying him a short distance and hanging him off a rack on the wall. The strings remained, but the hand left. With that, it took away all semblance of movement.
As he hung there motionlessly, he was able to glimpse his reflection in the window. He thought that he looked much like he did as a real Dragon. But those memories were staring to blur out too. He was having trouble comprehending what it was like to speak or to move on his own ability.
Those were starting to feel like distant memories….