#i'm so absolutely obsessed with onyx's script

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 13

content warnings: brainwashed whumpee, non-human (angel) whumpee, some weird angel discrimination, let me know if I missed anything!

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Badly, actually, was how I felt about crepes.

It wasn’t the crepes that were the problem. It wasn’t the sloppiness that required eating them, not even how unprofessional I had to be to eat them in front of someone.

No, mostly the problem was the people. And maybe the fact that I’d slept sitting up against a wall for four hours total the night before, and I was starting to feel a pinch between my eyes.

Kieran led me up a staircase, back to the ground level of the castle. I had been there the night before, when I had been too focused to look around. It felt more like a pavilion than an entire floor of the castle. There were a few walls, a few separations of rooms, but it was mainly held up by columns and pillars. There were tables all over, going past the ends of the columns and all the way outside. Two guards stood by a table together on the edges. I wondered if they were standing in the place where the royal family had killed a guard the night before.

“We hold breakfast and dinner here every day for anyone that wants it,” Kieran was saying as we walked past empty tables. “It’s not usually super popular, because there aren’t always a lot of different options of food, but it’s nice for people to have a place where they’re guaranteed a meal. Crepes are usually a hit, because they’re so customizable, but most everyone’s cleared out by now.”

It didn’t look to me like most everyone was cleared out. I counted four tables outside and two inside with people sitting at them. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see how many people attended during actual meal times.

And we walked into a kitchen, and it was so loud. I must’ve been around large groups of people at least a few times before I gave my memories to the royal family, but not since becoming a servant. And for the more recent years of it, I hadn’t even served families of nobility. The sound echoed and bounced around, getting stuck in my head like peanut butter on the roof of my mouth.

“What do you want on your crepe?” Kieran asked as we walked into the kitchen, and I swallowed. There had to be at least forty people working here.

“Whatever you see fit, sir.”

He grinned at me, looking slightly confused. “It’s a crepe for you, Onyx. Not me.”

“I don’t…” I glanced to the side. Enunciate, don’t mumble, don’t trail off in the middle of a sentence. I knew how to do this, knew how to answer questions the way that the royal family liked, even when I was tired. “I’ve never had a crepe, sir,” I admitted.

“Really? Never? Do you know what they are?”

“Yes, sir. I think- I think I might have had them before, but… not any time recently. I don’t remember. My apologies. Regardless, I will be grateful for whatever you wish to provide me with.”

“... Okay.” He stared at me for a bit. “If I tell you a few different toppings, will you tell me which ones you like the best? We could go from there.”

“Sir, I don’t- good servants don’t have likes and dislikes.” He had to know that, right? We were in the kitchen of a castle, surrounded by people that were presumably servants. He had to have been testing me, making sure I knew the rules. I did. I could be good.

“You’re not supposed to have likes and dislikes?” he repeated, and I shook my head. “That’s- um, we’re gonna talk about that later. Once you’ve got food in your stomach. Do you have certain toppings that you might be… more grateful than others about?”

This was dangerous territory. If I let myself think too hard about the toppings, I was veering into likes and dislikes and opinions. If I didn’t, I’d be ignoring direct orders.

“Usually I have Her Majesty The Queen’s leftovers for breakfast, sir,” I said quietly. “And I usually get some toast that she doesn’t always eat, and it has strawberry jam on it.”

“You like strawberries?”

I could be a good servant. No likes or dislikes, but I could be good enough to find a way around it. I didn’t like strawberries, that would’ve been opinionated. But maybe if I worded it differently? More objective? “Strawberries… taste good. Sir. I think.” I wasn’t supposed to think, or at least not like that, so the statement wasn’t quite right. But closer, because Kieran was grinning again. Like he’d discovered a cheat code in a video game.

“Yeah. Okay. Thank you for telling me that, Onyx. We’ve got strawberries. Is whip cream okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Great. That’s like, the two most important ingredients for every crepe I eat. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

Hm.

I knew what dietary restrictions were, of course. I had plenty of restrictions, dietary and otherwise. Of course there were things I couldn’t do, things I couldn’t eat. But they were restrictions imposed by the royal family. There was fruit that made my throat itch, or things that Prince Ryan made sure not to give me, but those weren’t things that I couldn’t eat. Not if someone asked me to.

“I, um. I will eat whatever you see fit, sir. Would you like to know the things that the royal family did not allow me to eat?”

He pursed his lips. Wrong answer, then, but that didn’t make sense. That wasn’t just me trying to think of the right thing to say, that was an exact line from the script that I was always supposed to follow. That was what the royal family had trained me to say.

But Kieran was not the royal family. Of course he had different rules, different uses for his servants. Of course my old script wouldn’t cut it anymore.

“Okay,” he said eventually. “I don’t want to know what the royal family didn’t let you do. I’m going to get you a crepe with strawberries and whip cream. There are other fruits, if you’d like any?”

“... I will eat whatever you see fit, Sir.” I already knew that was wrong, but what the fuck else was I supposed to say?

“Are you at all interested in blueberries? Or mangos?” I hesitated, and he smiled thinly. “I know. Whatever I see fit. Alright, then. I’ll get the other fruit for you too. If you find a seat somewhere, I’ll bring it out in a few minutes. I like eating outside the best, but we can eat wherever you’d like.”

“Of course, sir,” I managed weakly.

Find a seat somewhere.

A daunting task, because the tables meant six tables of people that I didn’t know if I was supposed to bow to or what titles to call. But regardless, it was a task that had been asked of me.

I could manage whatever task I needed to that had been asked of me.

This task was different, though. It was a choice given to me. Choices weren’t given to me. Servants were for orders. And I supposed it wasn’t a real choice—I was picking the one that I thought Kieran would prefer the most—but it was still terrifying.

Outside, first. That’s what he’d said, that he liked the tables outside the best. Four tables with people at them. Three—one group had left in the time since I’d been out here. Three tables of people. And when I was next to a person, of course, all my attention was supposed to be focused on them. Serving them to the best of my abilities. Alone out here, with three tables of people, I was forced to notice the way they stared at me. Or rather, my wings.

This wasn’t new, exactly. Back when noble families were allowed to know about me, the queen had told me to hold still while they felt the texture of the fur on my wings. They’d never felt anything like it, they’d said. Fascinating, they’d called me. They would’ve loved to see me fly, and it was the only time I thought Her Majesty might have regretted breaking my wing.

And it was her right to display me. It was the nobility’s right to stare, to pet my wings and ask how much force it would take to rip the skin that stretched between each bone.

I just wasn’t used to the staring anymore, that was all. If Kieran planned to have me out in public more often, then perhaps I needed to get used to it again.

I eventually chose a table close to the door, so that Kieran would not have to walk far to get to me. So that he would not need to look hard to ensure that I did not run away. I wouldn’t, no matter how many privileges I was given, but it was still odd to give me so many. Outside, alone, picking a seat and waiting for breakfast to be delivered to me. It was wrong. It was not how things were supposed to be.

And yet, it was how Kieran wanted it to be. So I stared at the grain in the wood that the table was made out of and ignored the way that people were staring at me.

~

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