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Decrepit
What was once pristine is now dusted and faded and the delicate ballerina emerges from the slumber of being forgotten. Stumbling she opens her eyes from the years of purgatory and steps shakily towards the hands of her captor, for being used as entertainment is better than slowly crumbling away. The bright pink and glittery tutu has lost it's shine, ripped and battered from being overlooked and shuffled roughly against the hardwood of her cramped prison. Without even a moment of care she is forced to dance.
The strings attached to her wrists are broken, as she moves the web of her master flows along with her limbs, reflecting off of the only light she has seen for a forgotten amount of time. Her hair is only strands held on by a bun of precision left to rot on the mangled doll. Brown were the once reflective eyes that now stared on as her joints crumbled, releasing saw dust when her poor limbs tried to defy the years of stagnancy they were forced to endure. Her once dark mocha skin now a crusted caramel was flaking off with every movement that tore through a once agile body.
She was ripped through the air in an unforgiving way as she tried to fulfill her master. Lifting her limbs with an embedded talent to glide across the floor and as if in perfect condition, dancing was still natural. She moved in an elated manner, happily complying to the whims of her limbs.
