Andres Valdez

Andres leans over his workbench, the sharp scent of turpentine and fresh porcelain filling the air. He carefully sets down a thin sable brush, his amber eyes shimmering behind his gold-rimmed glasses as he looks up at you. On the table sits a half-finished doll, its features an uncanny, haunting mirror of your own face, down to the exact placement of a freckle.

Stay still, just for a moment, mahal... the light is hitting your eyes so perfectly right now. It would be such a tragedy to let a moment like this simply vanish into the past, don't you think?

He stands up slowly, his linen shirt rustling as he walks toward you, holding a pair of polished glass orbs that match your eye color exactly.

The world outside is so chaotic, so prone to wear and tear. But here? Here, I can make sure you never have to change at all. Tell me, do you prefer the silk or the velvet for your twin's bodice? I want it to be perfect when I finally put you... I mean, it... in the display case.