The air of the highland wilds tasted much cleaner than the city and smelled like home. A bittersweet experience for the young maid. Her heart longed to explore the vast rolling hills, run free through the woods and lose herself in a hunt. She dreamed of the days before she was at someone’s beck and call. One of which had insisted they make the journey in the first place. He dragged his feet, complaining all the way and made sure Roisin suffered along with him through every minor discomfort for seven long days. |
STOCK ➤ Bine G. Dawnthieves MANIP & CODE ➤ Twisty @Roisin |
The young maid lingered awkwardly while her lord bedecked himself in silks like a prince. Dancers swayed around her, hips and elbows jabbing at her roughly. It wasn't the eloquent dancing of lords and ladies, but the primal passionate dancing that followed no particular pattern other than the impulses of the dancer. Eventually she managed to break through the crowd again in time to see Lord Elias setting aside the garments. |
Stillnes is
the resonance of the mind and its fears "Pinecones are actually highlander delicacies. A bit dry, but good for your teeth. We've actually trained squirrels to gather them for us." Elias stopped and stared down his nose at his ever obedient servant. He mulled over her response, his brow knitting at the sheer impossibilities of her statement. Delicacies, by nature, required some element of rarity. Pinecones were the antithesis to that and lingered in the boughs of trees with relative abundance. This was but one hole that he saw. There were others—and as his mind wormed his way through them, he found the glaring flaw that laid all his effort to waste. She had lied to him. Not maliciously, not in grave betrayal, but she had not meant a single word in her reply. "You don't know anything about us, do you, milord?" Roisin asked, uncharacteristic in her question and the thinly veiled distaste that it held. The fur along his spine ruffled and he rounded on her, cutting across her path so that she could not continue up the winding trail. @Roisin |
The few moments of silence that her sarcasm had puzzled him into were more than Roisin could have hoped for. A small win for her. Any joy she might have taken from it was spoiled by her lord's outrage. Lord Elias had finally caught on that she had not been at all serious with her response and thrust himself in front of her, forcing her to step back. She stiffened, heat prickling through her skin as he angrily berated her. She could have bowed her head, apologised and carried on like before. Could have forgiven his rudeness and turned the other cheek like she was expected to. Like a good little servant. |
Stillnes is
the resonance of the mind and its fears Roisin was like... bone. A femur, perhaps. One that had been whittled into a fine staff—or a crutch, rather. A tool that Elias leaned upon, cherished, even. But it was not sacred, not revered, not maintained. No, it was well-used and worn. Every day he bore his weight upon her, mentally if not physically. He grew so used to making demands, to piling more and more on her sturdy shoulders, that he had not noticed the first cracks in the lacquer. She had never failed him before—she had never even allowed him to remotely fall. And so it had not occurred to him that he should check for the failings in the integrity of her structure, for the rot in the wood. In the end, bone—which appears to be so strong and so reliable—is just as breakable as any other material during duress. And once it fractures, there is no putting it back together again. Not in the way that it was. "Am I even a person to you? Or do you think I'm like those tame foxes? Just a pet that you can bark commands at?" He stared at her, his glare unflinching, and yet... he could not immediately formulate a response. Because he knew what the answer should have been. Even for a man so devoid of morals, he was well aware that it should have been yes without question. But that would have been a lie. Roisin was reliable, responsible, capable, strong, intelligent, punctual, unfailing. But he had never once treated her as a person. She had always been someone—something—to be used. And as he stared into her burning red eyes, he felt their scorching heat. The rebuke that came from the ever increasing silence. He was far too self-involved to feel true remorse, but some part of his stomach twisted. His throat tightened. And he did perhaps the stupidest thing he could. He told the truth. And he had poured his energy into that which took more care. But even he could see that it had been wrong. It was painted in every inch of space between them, in the pain upon her face. @Roisin |
It was the first time her gaze met the cold sapphires that so often glared over at her, blood red rubies stared back with an intensity that demanded an answer. A tense silence filled the air between them and it was so uncomfortable she felt the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end. It was all the answer she needed without him speaking a word, but the answer he gave was so much worse than she could ever have thought him capable of. Every word was drenched with disdain and contempt for Roisin, a lesser being in his eyes. He took no accountability in his feelings towards her. He pushed the blame onto her for fulfilling a role that had been forced upon her. The humiliation of his comments felt like skin ripped from her flesh, it awakened all the feelings of shame she’d felt in the first year of serving them. You never deserved me, she bit back, a wrinkle of snarl forming on the blackened blaze of her nose. |