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Villager: Jester

Villager Info

ID: #220938

Name: Jester

Gender: Male

Location: Quetzal Palace

Born 4 years, 11 months ago

Career: None

Owner: Lupin

Feast Points: 0 (4 All-Time)

Species: Canine

Color: Jackal


House: Quetzal Palace House (66/66)

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Approved: 9 Feb 2017, 8:42 pm

Likes: 56 ♥

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All comments by Jester are in-character.

Does my flesh belong to me, or to you who stitched it so neatly?
I dance, I laugh, I sing, all for the pleasure of the king.
But in my dreams, I see a ghost... the warmth which I desire most.
Our life together, something lacks. My heart beats not- it's made of wax.

Jester has never been a real person. From the moment he opened his eyes, he came into the world as a being of needles and thread, born to one purpose- the service of the king. His "mother" if he could call her that, crafted him a wax skeleton and cotton skin, made every vein a silken stitch. He would never grow old, never tire, and never die. When part of him wore off, the ragged bits could just be cut away and replaced with something fresh and new, and he would always be Jester.

For a while, this was satisfactory. In fact, Jester enjoyed his purpose. He danced for the aristocracy, rhymed and jibed, performed amazing feats of acrobatics without the need to worry for what harm he might cause himself. He teased and taunted fearlessly, for he could be ripped, he could be cut, he could be crushed, and he would never wear away to nothing like a mortal might. For a while, this even brought him pride, and Jester saw himself as a level above those of flesh who had to worry about their mortality.

One day, the witch, his mother, sent him into town to pick up some extra thread when his ear was badly torn. He became lost, and wandered into the shop of the most beautiful creature of flesh and blood he had ever seen. Looking at that miraculous creature, Jester felt a pang of something he didn't know a wax heart could feel... longing.

He went to her as often as he could, telling jokes and making her laugh, enchanting her with all his wit and merriment. But no matter how hard he tried, her gaze would always fall elsewhere... on those who were more like her- flesh, and blood, and breath. His heart felt something then too, much more cruel and painful: despair. Jester longed for the feeling of skin. He longed to be alive, to sense the warmth of a real body, to feel pain as they do, to be real enough for Lizbeth to love him.

However, nothing could be done. The witch who made him was not a lifebringer. She could only give him falseness, and he would always be false- a man of humor and polyflock, and not much else.

Paintie by Violetpool

Comments 1

    • Wow these are so amazing...
      I'm sorry for your lack of comments but all of these are amazing.

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