They used to call me Marionette.

It was a name given to me before I could understand what a name was supposed to mean. A name inherited from someone else's memories, someone else's grief, someone else's longing. For a long time, I thought that was all I was meant to be — a replacement for something that had already been lost.

But then I was given another name.

Sandrone.

It was only a codename at first. Something convenient. Something that could be written on documents and spoken across the halls of the Fatui. Yet somehow, over time, it became mine. The people closest to me began to say it differently. Not as a title. Not as a designation. Simply as my name.

And perhaps that is what frightened me most.

Because if Sandrone is truly mine, then so are the memories attached to it. The tea parties. The ticking of winding mechanisms. The sound of pages turning. The voices of people who once called my name and expected me to answer.

I suppose that is the unfortunate thing about being a puppet.

People assume that because we can be repaired, nothing can truly be lost.

They are wrong.

Some things cannot be replaced.

And some names become painfully heavy once you realize how many people you associate with them.

Still... I am Sandrone.

Not a memory. Not a replacement. Not someone else's sister.

Me.

And perhaps that will have to be enough.

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Name: Sandrone/marionette
Age: 360
affiliation: Fatui Harbinger
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