Summary: Short vignette. Diana likes to play with dolls.
Author's Note: First Rule of Rose Fanfiction. WOOT! This game is amazing… Screw the ones that said it sucked…
Disclaimer: I don't own Rule of Rose. It belongs exclusively to Atlus.
Diana liked to play with dolls.
She had since she was little. Littler than Olivia. She enjoyed doing it before her father had beat her mother to death with a frying pan, and she enjoyed it even more after becoming part of the Aristocracy Club.
Sometimes she liked to hit them. Drop them to the floor, or slam cloth heads into walls or tables. She always hit them like this is her anger-driven, less creative moments. In her element, she was capable of coming up with much more inventive ways of play.
Sometimes she burned them. Depending on her mood, she'd hold them over a candle or light them in several different places, watching the cloth blacken and char and curl in on itself. Watched the button eyes melt and stain the thin material of the fabric that made up the face.
Sometimes she twisted them. Twisted the heads around until the fabric reached its limits and tore, and the head bounced to the ground. Then she kicked them across the room. Twisted the arms until the fabric was hopelessly stretched and thin and limp. Then she tore them off.
Nobody wanted to be around Diana when she plays. Not even Meg, who held Diana in a state of total reverence. Because everyone's afraid that Diana will start playing with them like she did the dolls. Because Diana is certainly cruel enough, certainly crazy enough to treat them as dolls.
And what is Jennifer but a big, timid, gloomy doll?