A/N: I'll post a piece later that matches Oz's usual whimsical tone, but for now here's a piece that I may have put way too much time and thought in:

Her world is colorful. Bright as the patches of fabric that compose her body.

She spins in a whirl of a thousand different textiles, textures, pigments, and hues, a thousand different thoughts flying in her head at once.

Her silver button eyes snap and sparkle.

Scuffed and patched red shoes tap on a polished green marble floor. These are not her riches but she will take part in them if offered to her.

Her mixed mind acts before she thinks and her plush tongue doles out its phrases and praises that are humorous enough to have any child rolling with laughter at her feet, flirtatious enough to win the love of any heartless man.

She is enigmatic. Charismatic. The embodiment of any jester in a medieval court. The gaze of a rag doll sitting forgotten in the corner of a child's bedroom.

At nights when all the rest of the world sleeps she climbs to the top of castle turrets and sings softly to herself, because that is exactly what she is. She is completely herself.

She cartwheels and backflips, twists and turns and leaps in excitement in fear that a rain cloud may come and wash away her very existence.

She clings to adventure to keep herself alive. She will not stand to be put into servitude in an old magician's kitchen. She will not be put out like a flame with a candlesnuffer, nor will she be seen and unheard like the pages of a long forgotten story book gathering dust.
Nothing can stop her from chasing down her desires. What she wants she will have, her ambition often stronger than her light cotton packed body. The world is her oyster, all her desires the shining pearl that sits within the jaws of a beast whose bite she seems immune to.

She dances under a skylight, the last rays of a hopeless nostalgia bathing her in an emerald glow.

Always twisting and turning like the clock on the wall.

Refusing to be forgotten.

A model of unyielding effervescence held within the unassuming body of a mere patchwork girl.