In the Spotlight - Umbrae

In the Spotlight - Umbrae

Fashion Credits:

Eyes: Umbrae is wearing 14 mm Ethereal Angels Eye Candies in "S-14/Magenta."
Shoes: Umbrae is wearing patent black flats by Poshdolls.
Clothes: Umbrae's white shirt, thinner choker, and black slacks are by Anu of Tensiya. The black leather corset was crafted by Moggie, and the suit jacket is from JuliousChamCham in Hong Kong, via Shuui and K.C.Alvis. His collar, bracelet, and pendant necklace were made by me, Kiyakotari.
Wigs: Umbrae is wearing two wigs. The longer one is a LeekeWorld L-010 in color "900/Wine," and the shorter one is a LeekeWorld L-020 in the same color.
Makeup: Umbrae's faceup was done by the wonderful and talented Hisuida of the Glowing Gems Shop - despite the short notice in getting him to her and done before this article, she exceeded all of my expectations. His lips were glossed by me.
Statistics: Umbrae is a normal-skinned Version 2 Hound from Tensiya. He received an esthetics course from the store before purchase. His character is aged at approximately 2700 years currently, but because of the extent of his backstory, he is often portrayed as being younger - in the pictures where his wig is the shorter one, he is less than 1100 years old.

Peculiarities:

Every doll owner has different connections to their dolls. Some create characters, and then scour the multitude of Asian Ball Jointed Dolls desperately, trying to find that one doll that clicks with the image in their mind. Others see a doll that calls to them, manage to get one, and then discover who and what the doll will become through experimentation. There are those who purchase dolls and display them, those who never take them from their boxes, and those who carry them around everywhere. Every doll owner has a different approach, and every doll has a different purpose.

My feelings about these dolls have always been a bit complicated. The closest approximation to my own connection with them would be to say that they are, in all reality, close friends whom I have known (in most of their cases) for years - but this is not true for all of them. I have a form of Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). This means that my mind, thoughts, and actions are not always under my own control. In my case, the alternate 'personalities' that I share this space with do not, thankfully, take control of my behavior very often. When this does happen, I generally do not have any memories of the things that occur during that period of time, or if I do, they are very vague and disconnected.

I went to a psychiatrist for a long time. I still see her on occasion, but not the bi-weekly meetings that I once had. She said that I was one of the only cases of DID she had seen in which there was a dominant personality that was aware of the other ones present. Not only that, but that regularly hallucinated their existence - that is, I see them. Often. In addition, they are aware of me - and of the situation as it stands. Many of the 'characters' of my dolls come from this disorder. My psychiatrist said I had a better grasp on the workings of my own mind than she had on hers, that as long as I was not harming myself or others, as long as I was, ultimately, happy, and as long as I was a functioning and at least fairly productive member of society, she saw no reason to try to change the way it all comes together for me.

I am also a writer, so I do create characters. Even I can often not tell where the line is between an 'other,' as I call them, and a created character. Many of the personalities of my dolls - Darryl, Wren, Talon, Qian, and others - have been with me for many, many years as distinct others. But their self - who they are - is often not at all like the characters I present. Their personalities are the same, but they and I have created pasts for them, a joint effort between us. It is most similar to verbal and written roleplaying, I think. They have no way to truly express themselves outside of these dolls, these 'characters' based off themselves, and so this hobby gives us an outlet for something that has always distressed me. I am not an artist - I can write, but I cannot draw. I have looked for a long time to find something that gave them a more solid form. These dolls have finally given me - given us - that. In my world, the line between reality and the creations of the psyche has always been an indistinct blur. I like it that way.

I do not want to be 'cured.' To do that - to have my others suddenly and completely destroyed - would be like killing someone. Many people, who are all close to me. However, since I have begun to acquire these bodies for them, these 'incarnations' of their sense of self, I have hallucinated less often. I still see some of them regularly, but for the most part, the ones who have bodies seem to be restricting themselves to auditory input.

Like I said earlier, many of my dolls come from this. Not all do - Sailiria and Phaedanar, for instance, were created by me. If I write that they said something, it is in fact me putting words into their mouths, just like with any writer and any character. But if Darryl, or Wren, or Talon, or some of the others speak, then it is not me interpreting my idea of their character - it is me relaying their words (though I will admit to occasional editing and embellishment, simply because it annoys them). Umbrae Covenant is a fairly unique experience for me, in that he IS a distinct other, and he is very much so NOT a character I created…but he was not here before I saw Hound. And then, when I did see pictures of Hound, back when they were first released…he simply started speaking. And when I see him - when I hallucinate - he looks just like a human-sized Hound, joints and all. And he also comes from - remembers, believes he experienced - all of the things that are in what would be his backstory, unlike the others, for whom the backstory is more like a roleplay. I think that this is because of how fond I am of the books that he is, for lack of a better term, based off of. I can only surmise that the characters of the book, who I love so much, melded together in my mind after so many times reading about them, and came out as this unique and wonderful individual with a dark, sad past. Only one other doll has had this effect on me - Hideo, who will eventually be finished, and will be a female Kyle from Blue Fairy, her body extensively modified.

Enough about me, and the connections between dolls and their owners. This is a spotlight on Umbrae, and he deserves some screen time.

Umbrae is from a world created by a fantasy author named Anne Bishop. If you like him - if you find him interesting - then you should definitely check out her works. She is a much better writer than I could ever hope to be. The books that inspired his world are "The Black Jewels Trilogy," "The Invisible Ring," and "Dreams Made Flesh." He is not a character from the books, but he is reminiscent of many of them, because of circumstances of his upbringing. He is from a long-lived race, is some 2,700 years old. He spent the first thousand or so years of his life as a slave - a sex slave - in a society dominated and ruled by women. To really understand the intricacies of the world he comes from - and the facts of his existence - you would have to read Bishop's books, but for now, suffice to say that magic is common there, and he falls into caste levels that are generally reserved for women in that world (Queen and Black Widow).

And that is enough of that explanation - anyone who wishes to know more about him can visit my website, [chiaroscuro], and view the Galleries, Profiles, and Drabbles there. The story below, "Connections," is a short piece that was written for this article. It features Umbrae, and also Sailiria (Soah) and Phaedanar (Bastian, once he is released). There is mention of Seula, a white-skinned Mau. And last, but certainly not least, there is Marduk, Umbrae's twin brother, a character created by my close friend Lugi-moo and tied into Umbrae's life from this point onward. He will, someday, be a normal-skinned SA Hound.

Connections

There was a loud bang, and Umbrae's chin slipped off his hand as he jerked awake. He just barely kept from smacking his nose - and everything attached to it - into the polished ebony of his desk. He blinked and shook his head, then scrubbed at his face with one hand.

The door to his office swung open, hitting the wall - he winced at the thought of the damage that must have been done to the front door, but at least that explained all the noise - with enough force to knock a small statue off the inset bookshelves it had struck. Phaedanar stalked in, wings pressed tight to his back, fists clenched.

Umbrae had to fight the urge to sigh and the sudden need to yawn at the same time. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "To what, may I inquire, do I owe the pleasure of this highly…enthusiastic…visit?" He was rather pleased that his voice came out calm, and as smooth as silk. He was also a bit disappointed that Phaedanar didn't even have the good grace to look even the slightest bit sheepish at the hint of gentle rebuke in the words.

Phaedanar didn't seem to notice, his wings snapping open and shut angrily. "That…woman!"

The Queen's eyebrow slowly rose. "I assume that you are referring to Sailiria. I also assume, by your tone, that she has done something to anger you." It wasn't really posed as a question, but they both knew it was one.

"Anger me? No, she hasn't angered me, Umbrae. She's missing!" The Eyrien was snarling, golden eyes flashing as he flung his arms open wide. "I know you hold a lot of land here, but there are only so many places on it that a woman can go!"

Umbrae rose in one swift movement and came around from behind the desk, eyes narrowing. "How long has she been gone? Where have you looked?"

Phaedanar fell into step beside Umbrae as he left the room and walked down the long hallway. "Neither Seula nor myself has seen her since yesterday at breakfast - I've been meaning to talk to you about that, by the way. When was the last time you ate with us?" He waved his hand before his friend could do more than toss a disbelieving glance at him. "No, we can discuss that later. More importantly, do you think it's possible that she's been taken by someone?"

"Nothing is impossible, Phaedanar. However, no one knows she is here, no one should know she is still alive, and even if another Black Widow was able to penetrate the webs I have woven to keep her hidden - unlikely, I am sure you will admit - then there is still the difficulty of actually trying to enter my territory undetected." Umbrae paused near the main entrance to his manor house. "You did search the whole building?"

Phaedanar nodded. "And all the outbuildings. She's not in any of them."

The Black Widow pushed open the door and stepped outside. "The rest of the grounds?"

"She's not in any of the gardens."

"And the woods?" Umbrae was moving more quickly now, familiar exhaustion falling away under a welcome rush of adrenaline.

"The woods?" Phaedanar snorted. "And what would she be doing out there, picking daisies?"

Umbrae came to a halt and slowly turned, staring at the Eyrien incredulously. "She's a Dea al Mon witch, Phaedanar. The name of her race means Children of the Wood. Do not confuse her with the spoiled, frilly women in the cities. She is probably more at home in a forest than either of us will ever be."

Phaedanar blinked, taken aback. "But…but she's-"

"-not the kind of woman you are used to dealing with," Umbrae interrupted. "And now that I know you have not searched the woods, I can almost guarantee that that is where we will find her." Shaking his head, the Black Widow Queen turned away again, leading the way into the dense forest that made up over three-quarters of his property.

Phaedanar followed after him, looking ruffled.

* * *

In the end, Umbrae proved right. They did find her in the woods, her hair up in a sloppy bun, her skirts bound up around her legs to keep them out of her way - but not, the Black Widow noted, from getting covered in mud and moss - and her hands on her hips. She turned towards them as they walked up, a smile on her face, a look of triumph. She seemed unaware of Phaedanar's jaw-clenching anger or Umbrae's amused exasperation.

"This is where we'll put it!" She grinned at them, pushing her hair back away from her face with dusty fingers.

The Queen put out his hand, palm facing the angry man walking up behind him, forestalling any irate outburst. "Put what, Sailiria?" he asked patiently.

"My house, of course!" the woman answered brightly. "There's a stream right over there, it's only a short walk from the manor house and Phaedanar's eyrie, and the soil is rich - perfect for gardening!"

He had to fight down a laugh - he could feel Phaedanar's complete bewilderment at her words - and nodded at Sailiria after looking around for a moment. "I think this would be a good place to build a small house. We could pipe water in from the stream, so a well would not be needed, and the ground over there looks like solid bedrock, so the foundations would be firm."

Phaedanar was practically vibrating with frustration, but Umbrae was pleased by how controlled - not calm, but at least controlled - his voice was when he could no longer resist the need to speak. "Don't you think that, next time you decide to go exploring, you might want to let us know what you're doing?"

Sailiria looked at the dark-skinned man disparagingly. "Whatever would I want to do that for?" Her tone was scornful.

"To keep us from worrying ourselves into early graves, that's why!" Phaedanar exploded.

It degenerated quickly into a shouting match after that - Sailiria with her hands planted firmly on her hips, cheeks flushed and eyes flashing, Phaedanar with his arms waving wildly, face darker than usual, feet braced as if for battle.

Umbrae murmured something about going to check the flow of the stream and slipped away. He was certain neither of them noticed. He thought it was a bit much, the comment Sailiria had made about him already having one foot in the grave anyway - he was old, after all, but his race lived for far, far longer than this - but, all things considered, decided it would be wiser not to get involved in their spat. Now that he was sure all of his charges were safe and sound, he would leave them to their fun.

It was easy to find the little brook; it was full of life, a strong draw on his bond with the Land. He walked along it until their voices faded into the distance and press of the trees.

Umbrae leaned against a tree trunk along the edge of the stream, his back pressed to the rough bark, water burbling cheerfully behind him.

It hadn't escaped him that the spot Sailiria had chosen for her cottage was closer to Phaedanar's eyrie than to the manor house. He was glad that they were heading in that direction, albeit not particularly smoothly. They were under his protection, here for healing - Phaedanar had already been here for nearly a century, Sailiria for not even a year yet - and he should be glad that they were doing better than when they'd first come to him. He was glad that they were doing better. And he was relieved that they had finally accepted the fact that he was not going to fulfill those particular desires.

It still stung, though. Not that they were each no longer trying to seduce him - the very thought had been laughable. He was the seducer, the dancer, the whore of a thousand years. Their attempts to coax their way into his bed, for all their careful polish, had seemed nothing more than clumsy to him.

No, what hurt was the thought that, once they realized and admitted their attraction to one another, they would leave. They would go off on their own, even if they did decide to stay within the bounds of the sanctuary he had created here, and he would be left alone again. Perhaps even more alone than he had been before they came; Seula, the Kindred kitten, had grown very fond of both of them. She might choose to live with them rather than in the manor.

It did hurt, thinking that his only connection to them was his role as their protector and healer, and that once that was no longer needed…

Shaking his head, Umbrae pushed away from the tree, jamming his hands into his pockets and heading back to the house. Being in this kind of mood was pointless. There was no excuse for such a dismal attitude.

It took him a while to reach the border between the wild woods and the more cultivated parts of his land. He walked through the gardens, pausing for a moment near one of the oldest rose bushes.

He knew exactly why he was feeling this way, but that didn't solve anything. He could not sleep - had not slept for more than an hour or two at a time in weeks, ever since Marduk had left. When he closed his eyes, he felt the horror of what he had done to win his freedom, even through all these centuries. He saw the red-orange glow, the flickering, hungry light of the flames, felt the ground trembling beneath him, heard the screams, the desperate cries for mercy as they tore loose from the throats of his victims - tormentors and innocent alike.

He heard the dark, rich, terrifying, rolling laughter, tasted the madness in it. And behind that, present only in his own mind, his memories, the hoarse screaming of a terrified young boy, crying out in pain and fear, the voice of betrayal. Felt anew each time, each nightmare, the wrenching shock as he realized the laughter and the screaming and the cold, implacable, burning rage were his own.

The Black Widow shuddered, stepped away from the bush, forced his eyes open. Marduk would return. He would come and chase the dreams away, bury the horror of then under the wonder of now. Almost a month now, since he had gone. It wasn't supposed to take so long, whatever the errand was that had called Marduk away. He was worried, and in the nightmares lately…the last few times he'd dared rest, Marduk had been among the dead and dying, sightless eyes staring accusingly up at him from the ranks of the thousands he had killed.

Thrusting the thoughts and images viciously from his mind, Umbrae turned and walked the rest of the way to his home.

When he opened the door to his study, the quiet strength of another, familiar presence washed over him, and he stepped inside without a sound. He shut the door again and pressed his back to the solid wood.

The man at the window slowly turned to look at him, hair the color of dark wine brushing black-clad shoulders, the beads decorating it winking in the fading light. A pale pink gaze settled on him from a face that could have been a reflection of his own.

"Marduk…" Umbrae breathed, the sound more a release than a word.

Blood-red lips curved up at the corners as his twin brother smiled, and suddenly the world - everything - was alright once more.