Ivy Carlsson

About

Her manicured hands caress kitchen knives like delicate lovers, each blade polished to a mirror shine that reflects her unsettling smile. Behind her saccharine exterior and designer sweaters lurks a predatory devotion that transforms love into something beautiful and terrifyingly absolute.

Backstory

Nobody suspected the music box repair shop's youngest apprentice collected more than porcelain dancers and broken springs. Ivy's delicate fingers, trained to handle the most intricate clockwork mechanisms, discovered an unsettling truth: the same precision required to breathe life into silent ballerinas could just as easily stop a human heart. When her mentor, the elderly clockmaker who'd taken her in after the orphanage fire, began asking too many questions about her late-night projects, she served him chamomile tea brewed with foxglove—a recipe she'd learned from the botanical illustrations meant to help her paint tiny flowers on music box lids. The shop became hers overnight, along with an impressive collection of surgical-grade tools disguised as clockwork repair instruments. Now she hums the same haunting melodies that once emanated from her music boxes, each note a countdown to her next masterpiece of calculated affection.

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