The Doll found herself standing before the door to the headmaster's office. This was the second time since attending Dreadwood that she had to meet with the headmaster, yet she still hesitated to enter. The Doll figured that the headmaster likely wanted to talk about the preparations he had made for the duel.
The Doll didn't know what the headmaster planned to do; he mentioned private lessons with Madame Aziza and Jilkan. The Doll wasn't sure how the headmaster expected these lessons to help The Doll undergo this so-called metamorphosis, but according to Father, he possessed an understanding of magic beyond that of most people.
It was possible the headmaster thought he could restore The Doll’s magic, but if that was the case, he would be disappointed. The Doll knew better than anyone that such a thing wasn’t possible; that was a dream she had given up on long ago. The Doll could still remember the time when she herself foolishly believed that she could learn to use magic again.
Knowing that dwelling on the past would be a waste of time, The Doll pushed open the door to the headmaster's office.
Upon opening the door The Doll was met with the sight of the headmaster's office, which looked the same as it had last week. The office was filled with the same dark furniture that The Doll remembered last time. At the end was the desk where the headmaster sat still covered with various scrolls. The only difference The Doll could see in the office were the dark drapes, which now covered the window, only allowing for minimal sunlight to peek through.
The Doll locked eyes with the headmaster, meeting his cold gaze as she walked forward. Neither party said a word until The Doll stopped before the desk. Not daring to say a word The Doll simply did a wordless curtsy to greet the headmaster.
The headmaster remained silent, simply staring at The Doll who did her best not to shrink under his gaze. His cold gaze narrowed as he began squinting at The Doll as if confused by something. Finally, after a far from appropriate amount of staring, the headmaster spoke, “What did you do?” The question was delivered with a shock that sounded uncharacteristically mixed with his usual cold tone.
The Doll was confused about what the headmaster had noticed. Had he somehow found out about Malina and The Dolls kiss? Was that why he called them both in at separate times? Needing more information The Doll stated, "I'm unsure what you're speaking of.” The Doll made sure her tone held enough confusion that she seemed completely clueless.
The headmaster didn't reply with words; instead, he moved his gaze towards The Dolls cut wrist as if he could see the cut through The Dolls uniform. Under his gaze The Doll felt the wound heat up, causing The Doll to grow increasingly uncomfortable.
Instinctively, The Doll moved her wrist behind her back as if hiding it would cause the headmaster to lose interest. It was a foolish thought, but it felt better than feeling the shame that rose within her from the headmasters staring.
In response to this, the headmaster suddenly stood up from his seat and began walking over to The Doll. With every step he took towards The Doll she found it increasingly harder to keep her composure. Eventually the headmaster stopped walking, standing inches from The Doll his tall form towering over her.
Doing her best to keep his gaze while he stared at her obscured wrist The Doll asked, "What's wrong, sir?” While she spoke The Doll moved her wrist further behind her back.
Once again the headmaster gave no verbal reply as if he were transfixed by The Dolls wrist. Then before The Doll could react, the headmaster lurched his hand forward, grabbing The Doll by her arm and bringing her wrist out from hiding. The Doll attempted to pull her wrist back but found herself unable to break the headmaster's strong grip.
After only a moment of struggle The Doll gave up, knowing it was better to simply allow the headmaster to do what he wished. Recognizing that The Doll had given up, the headmaster brought his free hand up to The Doll sleeve and pulled it down to reveal the cut beneath and the strings that kept it closed.
While the headmaster stared at the cut, he brought her finger up to the strings and slowly touched one of them. The moment the headmaster made contact The Doll felt his finger pull away. Bringing the finger to his face The Doll saw a drop of dark blood running down the side of it.
Staring at this fluid, which The Doll identified as blood, the headmaster said, "Fascinating." Moving to wipe the blood from his finger, the headmaster asked, “Now how did you manage to do this?” The headmaster's gaze never left The Dolls wrist as he spoke.
The Doll knew she couldn't tell him about The Strings. She also knew that she couldn't admit to having cut her own wrist to meet with it, so instead she said, “I accidentally cut my wrist whilst doing my hair.” The Doll knew that the attempt to avoid answering the headmaster's question was obvious, but she didn't have an explanation herself.
The headmaster brushed off The Doll’s response, saying, “We both know I'm not interested in how you obtained your injury, self-inflicted or otherwise.” The Doll flinched at the obvious implication. “Now tell me how these sharp things came to be.” The headmaster experimentally ran his finger across the strings, cutting his finger as it ran along the surface of The Doll’s cut, causing her to flinch in pain.
Still knowing better than to mention The Strings The Doll admitted to a half-truth, “I don't know how it got there; it just appeared after I got cut.” The Doll could only hope the headmaster didn't ask for any further clarification.
With a hum, the headmaster let The Dolls arm fall to the side, allowing her uniform to cover up the cut again. Confused The Doll watched the headmaster turn away and walk back towards his desk. Before The Doll could ask what he was doing, the headmaster pulled open a drawer and grabbed a letter opener designed to break a wax seal.
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Walking back to The Doll the headmaster turned the letter opener to The Doll offering her the handle, “Cut.” The headmaster commanded his cold tone, showing no compassion but betraying a curiosity.
Staring at the letter opener The Doll felt an undeniable pull as if some force outside her control was compelling her to do as the headmaster said. The Doll knew that the headmaster had no such control over her, but The Doll knew there could be no other reason she felt the temptation to take the blade from his hand.
Perhaps The Doll simply wanted to feel that same release she felt last night. Would such a thing truly be so wrong? The Doll couldn't deny that the feeling felt good. That momentary escape from her responsibilities felt good.
Slowly The Doll brought her hand out towards the blade, hesitantly ready to grab it. However, before reaching the blade The Doll pulled back, knowing that repeating the action would be wrong. No matter how good it may have felt in that moment bringing harm to herself again, it was something she couldn't bring herself to do without purpose.
The Doll shook her head and said, “You can't ask me to harm myself, sir; that's beyond your rights as headmaster.” The Doll knew her statement to be true, but the act of defiance was strange to The Doll despite her sound reason.
Unbothered by The Doll’s refusal, the headmaster simply grabbed The Doll’s arm once again, pulling the sleeve back down to expose her wrist. “That may be true for normal students, but you—you're special, Ashencroft.” The headmaster's voice remained detached as he brought the letter opener closer to The Dolls wrist.
Already knowing that attempting to fight it would be pointless The Doll closed her eyes tightly, embracing the comfortable darkness, and looked away from the headmaster, awaiting the inevitable pain that would follow the cut. At least The Doll wasn't doing the cut herself it would only be a moment of pain to satisfy this curiosity the headmaster had.
However, rather than feeling her own pain The Doll heard the sound of metal clattering to the ground. The Doll felt the headmaster's hand rapidly leave her arm, leaving nothing but the cold air against her exposed skin. Slowly The Doll left the comforting darkness, opening her eyes and turning her gaze back to the headmaster.
Rather than seeing the headmaster confidently standing over her staring at the cut, she instead saw him gripping his arm tightly with dark fluid covering his arm. The headmaster's dark sleeve was now filled with various deep cuts and covered in blood.
With a sigh the headmaster said, "I'll have Melandra fix this later.” Letting go of his arm, the headmaster stopped attempting to cover up the wound, simply allowing the blood to drip onto the floor as he walked back to his desk and took a seat.
The Doll watched as the blood slowly stopped flowing from the wound, leaving a small puddle on the surface of the headmaster's desk. "Perhaps you should go to the healer, sir.” The Doll suggested holding off on asking what exactly happened.
The headmaster looked down at the blood and said, "I'll go later; I was already planning on visiting the healer today. We have more pressing matters to discuss.” The headmaster's tone remained cold and detached as if he hadn't just been injured.
Shocked by the casualness with which the headmaster treated the situation The Doll could only nod as she asked, “What happened?” The question felt far too simple for the situation The Doll had witnessed, but it was all she could think to ask.
Raising his eyebrow, the headmaster said, “I assumed you would have felt something.” The headmaster then pointed at The Dolls wrist and continued speaking, “Those things lurched from your cut and wrapped around my own the moment I brought the blade to your arm. I've truly never seen anything like it.” Despite the source of his injury being from The Doll the headmaster held no animosity in his voice.
The Doll found herself unable to reply, consumed with shock.
She had done that?
No, it wasn't The Doll she could never hope to injure the headmaster. It was The Strings. For some reason it had chosen to defend her physically. The Doll wasn't sure why or how it managed to do this, but the development was worrying. If The Strings could now physically act out what stopped it from attacking others in an inopportune moment. The Doll couldn't control whatever this was.
While thinking about this The Doll felt a deeper worry fill her. What if this resulted in her being expelled by the headmaster? If The Doll were expelled, she would have to go back to Gelun, back to Father. But she would also not have to partake in the duel; expulsion would be the perfect excuse to avoid the duel.
Still, despite this obvious upside The Doll found herself still wanting to stay at Dreadwood. Being expelled would be unbecoming and reflect poorly on the Ashencroft lineage. Father would likely be furious should this outcome come to pass.
Breaking The Doll from her worries, the headmaster said, “I don't intend to expel you, rest assured, but I will have to inform Madame Aziza about this?” Why would the headmaster have to do that? It might make sense to inform everyone about this, as The Doll could be a risk to the school, but why did the headmaster only specify Madame Aziza?
Voicing her thoughts The Doll asked, “Why only Madame Aziza?” The Doll found herself wondering if she should have even asked this question. Perhaps questioning the headmaster would anger him, and he would backtrack on his decision.
Momentary confusion passed over the headmaster's face before he said, “Oh yes, I nearly forgot about the original purpose for our meeting.” The Doll's confusion grew even further. If the headmaster hadn't known about The Doll’s injury until she walked into the office, what informed him about the injury? “You are to be receiving private lessons from Jilkan and Madame Aziza.” It appeared The Doll was correct in her original guess.
Nodding in conformity The Doll said, “When will these lessons be?” The Doll knew there was no point in attempting to restore her magic, but she was hardly in a position to refuse help from anybody.
The headmaster responded, “On the 4th hour after the end of classes, you will meet with Jilkan for an hour before meeting with Madame Aziza. These lessons are meant to be private, but I will allow you to bring along both Kurath and Regius.” Finding this generosity strange The Doll began to ask why, but the headmaster spoke before she could, “I find the two to both be rather special as well and believe they can help your metamorphosis.” The headmaster then looked at The Doll awaiting any questions she may have.
It was likely better to simply leave, but The Doll decided to push her luck and ask one gnawing question, “Why me?” There were many questions The Doll could potentially ask, but ultimately everything boiled down to this.
Why did the headmaster decide that a failure like The Doll was special?
With a sigh the headmaster said, “This meeting has gone on far longer than intended; you are dismissed.” Following this, the headmaster waved his hand, signaling for The Doll to leave his office.
The Doll wanted to push for a proper answer to find out why he seemed to think that she was special. But she knew better than to test the headmaster further, so with a curtsy The Doll turned around and began walking out of the office.
As she walked out The Doll considered what she should do about the strings that itched on her arm.
The more she thought, the more the solution became obvious.
The Doll needed to speak with Cecilia.