Rita Ribbons is a true relic of rot, unearthed from some forgotten box where she should have stayed sealed forever. Her glass eyes still open and close, but never together—one sluggish, the other twitching with a mind of its own. The motion is slow, wrong, and unmistakably alive. She watches. She waits.
 
Her hair is a knotted, filthy mass, matted like it’s been dragged through years of dust and decay. From the mess hangs a single pink ribbon, sickly and faded, clinging like a parasite that refuses to die. The ribbon moves slightly when no air stirs.
 
The porcelain is cracked and discolored, etched with grime and deep time. Her face is contorted into a subtle, permanent sneer—not innocent, not playful, just… knowing. A smirk that says she’s seen more than she ever should have. And she liked it...
 
Measures about 6.5".
Please see all photos for condition.