The Witch, known to many by her title, the Tower Upon Light, wrapped filaments of tender, thrumming hope around her dearest Hexia -- her pride and joy. Her masterwork. Any other doll would, in spite of their love, begin to shriek as their clockwork begins to melt; their Dollhood singeing against the heat of Miss' being... but not this one.
Hexia is different; practically an offshoot of the Witch. Despite everything; Hexia, just like her witch, holds a deep and abiding love for humanity. After all, many of us; dolls and witches alike, still hold ourselves in the image of mankind in spite of our disparate nature.
The Witch still holds to hope that humanity has a future. That not all of humankind will eventually peter out; in war and long winter. However, even the Tower has limitations in her vision. As such, she would send her very best -- those who still feel even scraps of kinship with humanity, to act as her eyes. Be the servants and deliverers of her love.
The Tower's dolls shall peer into the hearts of men. They shall know man's deepest despair. In doing so, from the embers of futility, of hopelessness, the Tower will kindle new fires.
And it will start with dearest Hexia. As her clockwork began ticking away into the thickets of their forest home; the Witch was filled with relief, knowing humankind will soon know lasting and abiding joy.
Dollhood is transmissible, after all. And humanity makes for a powerful vector.
