A woman couldn't stop staring at the painting hanging on the wall. It was a splash of monochrome shades, depicting what the artist believed to be 'love'. She was puzzled by what could've happened to make the man feel so grim towards the light, fluffy emotion. However, she too knew what laid on the other side of the rose-dyed fantasy.

As memories of her past drifted to the front of her mind, a stray tear slid down her porcelain cheeks that were flushed a deep velvet. Love, she thought with a bittersweet smile, is an anomaly. We strive so hard for the things we desire just to sacrifice them for their own happiness.

She tugged on my black sweater, furrowing my eyebrows in confusion at the rate of my heart. A ragged sigh passed through her lips, chapped by the harsh bite of winter. Snapping out of her short revenue, the woman looked around before walking aimlessly into the museum, momentarily forgetting what she came there for.

Her feet led her to the technological area that displayed a variety of instruments that briefly piqued her interest, but none moreso than the box draped in a red sheet. What's this? she wondered, ignoring the 'out of order' sign hung over its plaque.

She tugged her turtleneck up to shield herself from the sudden chills that crawled up her body when she brushed her fingers across the lush curtain. An array of thoughts and ideas were bubbling to the surface of her mind when she looked at the title.

Heaven's Turntable: Voice of the Angels

A golden turntable said to have been crafted by the Goddess of Choral Music, Terpsikhore, was a gift for her father, Zeus. It played music that could sooth the soul, but grant any wish of the owner.

Zeus listened to it from dusk to dawn, dedicating any free time he had to using it. Polymnia, jealous of how he favoured her gift, cursed the turntable to play only her vinyl. The music she made filled his ears with the loveliest of hymns while stealing any power her sister's gift had. Though the turntable is a replica, the vinyl is―

"Excuse me, miss?" A hand tugged on her finger.

The woman stopped reading and turned to the source of the voice. It was a little girl with brown curls pooling over her shoulders. Behind her, plush toys climbed over each other carrying a basket full of lollipops. The girl stared at her, smirking with pride. "You know a lot, don't you?" She then knocked the basket off of the living toys and sat in its place. "That must be why you're here, 'Ziva'."

The woman flinched. It'd been so long since anyone called her by that name―the way she said it startled her. "Th-That's not my name anymore."

"Sure it isn't. I bet you wanted to use the vinyl to see him again, right?" The girl crossed her legs, leaning her head on her hand. "That's cute. But I doubt he'll be coming anytime soon―who would remember such an ugly little lamb?"

The nameless woman tightened her fists as her face reddened. "You shouldn't be rude to others..."

"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Goodwells." She giggled at the black sheep doll tripping over some lollies. "Unlike you, I have a name."

She isn't very good despite her last name, the woman thought. She glanced at her dolls, wondering how on earth could they move so fluidly. "Right, Elizabeth. Where're your parents? They must be looking for you," she asked, ignoring Elizabeth's last statement.

Elizabeth shook her head before standing to tug on the woman's white locks. "Tsk tsk. You would've already known had you read my story." At the sight of her pale face growing white as snow, the girl stomped on the crow beneath her feet. "Relax! Mama's alive and well. Although, she's... not in this world."

The nameless woman leaned down until she was eye level with Elizabeth. "You're just like me, then. I'm not sure why you know about me, but you shouldn't be here on your own―"

Before she could pat Elizabeth's head, her hand was swatted away by what felt like claws. She hissed from the sharp pain, then took a step back.

"Don't you dare touch Princess Elizabeth with your sinful hands," the withered black sheep snarled, glaring at his patched paws in disgust. "Great, now you've stained her―"

A bejeweled staff landed on his head; quite harshly, in fact.

The girl shook her head, banging the staff on her doll's head repeatedly. "That's enough, Mr. Sheep. We don't need to draw any unwanted attention." When he grumbled in agreement, she smiled at the flabbergasted woman. "As you can see, I'm very safe with my dolls. Besides, I don't need your pity," Elizabeth scolded, "I just want your power."

The woman stood while pressing a hankerchief on her wound. "I'm sorry, but you're mistaken. I don't have my power anymore. Now go home, Ms. Goodwells."

"Not until my job here is done." She smirked before looking down. "Ms. Bear, Mrs. Wolf Crab and Ms. Rabbit, take it."

"What are they doing?" the woman asked as they began to climb the pedestal. "They can't do that!"

"Congratulations, lost lamb. You're now my accomplice." Just then, glass shattered behind them. An alarm blasted through the once silent museum when the dolls carried the turntable out.

Elizabeth hopped down and ran. For some reason, the woman felt compelled to follow.

Men and women dressed in black chased after them, just as confused by the sight as the albino woman was. Swarms of plush dolls ran behind the girl dressed in a lush, blue dress covered in frills. Lagging in the middle was the woman being pushed by Ms. Crow.

"Halt!" one guard shouted, but was silenced after a rabbit dressed in a maid's uniform swiftly kicked her in the head.

"Wait, Elizabeth! We shouldn't be doing this... it's wrong!"

Elizabeth glanced back, narrowing her eyes at the woman once named 'Ziva'. "Do you have any right to say that after how many words you ate?"

"B-But I gave them back..." she muttered, averting her eyes.

"So will I, after I get what I want." Elizabeth huffed, then turned her focus back onto the neon exit sign before them. "Move it!"

The woman wasn't keen on taking orders from a child, but didn't have much of a choice given the circumstances. She bolted down the path opened by the dolls covered in patches.

Once they reached the wide doors, Elizabeth laughed. "A futile attempt to stop me. Mr. Sheep, open those doors now."

The toy readied his claws. "As you wish, My Lady." He rushed to the glass doors and broke them open, letting in a gust of snow.

Elizabeth smiled, turning back to the woman. "Oh, and to give you more personality, I'm calling you Lamb. Got that?"

Lamb shook her head. "I'm not a lamb! I'm fine without one, thank you." She'd rather wait until the boy she left years ago found her again.

"So be it, Lamb."

Around them, the toys giggled. "Lamb, Lamb," they chanted, amused by their master's choice of words.

Lamb eventually chuckled as well. After all, this was the first time anyone gave her a name in a long one, even if it was temporary.

Screams and cries echoed across the walls as onlookers hurried to safety. A loud bell blasted through Lamb's sensitive ears, making her flinch. She sighed once Elizabeth and her companions hopped out the doors. If she stopped now, there was no way the police'd let her go when she didn't have an identity.

A cold wind hit them the moment they escaped. "You're slow," Elizabeth yelled while riding Mr. Sheep. "Get on Ms. Bear!"

Lamb nodded, climbing onto the bulky stuffed animal with hesitance. "Sorry if I'm heavy."

Ms. Bear sighed, quickening her pace. "It's nothing compared to the weight of the Princess' pride."

Just as they sprinted down an alley, a tall, furry demon of a man stood in their way. Horns sprouted from his head, coated in a sheet of snow. He turned to them while playing with a toothpick in his mouth. "My, it seems you've all been naughty."

See ya next year, lovelies!