Chapter Two: Motives Missed

"Ah, you're awake," a voice sounded from behind the Doll.

"Yes, Veuliam."

"/Very good, Smee./" The white clad Angel moved closer to the chair-bound being, unlocking the cuffs and patting the pale ginger's head. Smee nodded slightly, but nearly growled as Veuliam's gloved hands moved along each arm and up to his shoulders. "After I complete you, Smee, I'll let you about on the tasks I have in mind for you."

"Tasks such as what?"

The Angel smirked and looked into Smee's glass eyes. "Serving our Father, of course…"

Smee flinched. "By our Father, you mean the Lord?"

The spiritual soldier gave a nod. "Indeed, I do… You see, He is /very/ real. I, only an Angel in His Heavenly Hierarchy, aim for not only perfection, but also to rise in power."

"To… what?"

"An Archangel… Have you not studied your Holy Father or self, Smee?"

"Nay."

Smee shrieked in pain, crumbling to the floor in a heap of bloody wings and fur, his master having manipulated the undead Marionette's strings to toss him down and tighten exponentially. Veuliam strode over to Smee, now trembling and bleeding on the floor, and lifted the hybrid's mechanized jaw up, so that pale amethyst eyes stared into the glass made ones of the undead.

"No good, lad. It seems I've more work to have done on your pitiful body – perhaps I won't put you under the angelic aphrodisiac bestowed before… So that I may teach as I work, see?" Smee gave a stiff nod, and the Angel again stood to control him, pulling him to his feet, letting the half-coagulated blood drip off the pale ginger's body. "What shall become of you, Smee? It was such a task of putting you back together… Now I must pull your seams out and start over? As unpleasant as it may be, it shall be done without delay."

"London Bride is falling down

Falling down, falling down.

London Bridge is falling down,

My fair lady…~"

The Angel paused his song to reposition Smee in the eccentric chair, before pulling a lever on it. The furniture moved with a /snap/ into a strange altar like table, the bindings again taking hold of Smee's wrists and angles, throat and torso as well.

"Now what to recreate you with, hmm?" the white-clad harem cooed, pressing a white gloved hand to his cheek in thought.

"Build it up with bricks and mortar,

Bricks and Mortar, bricks and mortar,

Build it up with bricks and mortar,

My fair lady…

That wouldn't be good, now would it? After all, you were killed by such things…"

Veuliam's gloved hands carefully plucked at the seams on Smee's torso, making the undead Doll whimper. Half-clotted blood seeped from the wounds as Smee's master continued, leaking out onto the ground as he was disassembled, screams echoing the dim room, long-forgotten mantras in pure Latin chanted by the Heavenly Entity…

Smee's eyelids slid open, revealing empty sockets, dried crimson fluid lining each. A small, dried line of blood marked the nude Doll's attached jaw, but Smee paid no heed, unknowing of it's presence. Instead, the Doll felt his joints guided by strings, and he moved in a mechanical way through the room and out into the hallway.

Moving through blue, red, and gold decorated hallways; Smee finally came to a door in which the presence of his Angelic Master felt strongest.

Moving on his own, he rapped at the door, making a sound similar to wood tapping against wood.

"You called, Brother Veuliam?"

"Come in, Smee."

Smee twisted open the doorknob, finding some difficulty in the motion. A grunt escaped his jaws as he stumbled awkwardly into the room sightlessly.

Strings tightened and moved the Doll's limbs and body, until Smee stood before the immortal, knowing this only by faint sense of it.

"I called, because an honorable Doll such as yourself must receive his own, personal attire… as well as your eyes, now that you've been taught and re-crafted with wood, iron, and bone."

Smee stood silently, but gave a nod in response.

"Your eyes you shall receive last, so first, I'll slip you into the personalized clothing I made for you…"

The faint sound of rustling silk and linens filled the silence, as well as the tightening of lace. After an hour or so, the angel carefully placed each glass eye in the Doll's empty eye sockets.

Smee's right hand twitched in a mechanical fashion, the joints somewhat slow, grinding. Staring into a large mirror, the Doll observed his new attire with awe.

He wore a white linen, dress shirt with pearl buttons and a white lace ruff around his throat. A navy blue tailcoat with gold trim was fitted to him, the long tails reaching the joint of his knees. A cape of the same blue and gold theme draped over his shoulders. Black silken trousers that bagged and stopped at his knees seemed to have gold-woven diamond patterns down the sides of each leg. Where his trousers ended, white and black knee-high, heeled boots were worn. On his hands, white gloves were worn.

A bit of blue in the reflection of his face caught his eye, and he realized there was a blue lotus flower painted on his left cheek. Moving a white-gloved hand to his left jaw, he stared at himself in the mirror, shocked and entranced. "A blue lotus?"

"Indeed… representing that not only are you a holy servant, but also a figure of cleansing and purity."

Smee blinked and turned to face his Higher Brother. Veuliam stood before Smee, two weapons in one hand, and a Sacrificial Holy knife and slim black box in the other. Slight shock made Smee Keinz's eyes widen as the three-tailed whip was placed in his hand, and rapier-style sword was attached to his belt with its lengthy black sheath.

The Angel smirked and held the sacrificial blade up before Smee, waving the jewel encrusted weapon slightly. "These are all yours… treat and use them with intentions of purity and cleansing. Now for this box-" Veuliam slid the Knife into the Doll's left boot and then straightened up, presenting the slender black box and opening it, to reveal a pure silver piccolo. "This is a gift. Choose how you use this on your own."

The hybrid Doll blinked, and carefully took the instrument up in his white gloved fingers, staring at it, before placing it gingerly into the pocket of his tailcoat.

Again, the holy entity surprised Smee, placing a silver pin on the right breast of his coat, emblazoned with a crucifix of gold and with a red lace at the bottom of the new ornament.

"Smee Keinz, you no longer will stay constantly in the building. Often I shall send you on missions and let you have free reign of yourself outside here – however, you are my Doll, and a Servant to myself and our Father – expect to be called and come, even if it's the worst possible time."

Smee registered this carefully, and tipped his head forwards, taking a knee. He crossed his right hand over where his heart once beat, and let his tense joints ease.

Veuliam's white-gloved hand pressed into his pale ginger hair, but the doll didn't break his poise, even after he said the three most often-said words of a butler.

"Yes, my Lord."