#yes i do harbor a lot of resentment about this. the habit of cleaning was explicitly trained out of me and then later on when

[snekdood]

i love my gma but man I really wish she didn't take on Every Household Responsibility Ever growing up bc she did for a long time take care of my cat for me, which I think is partially why hes such a loud demanding asshole who thinks hes owed the world because she has a tendency to let people (and sub-sequentially animals) walk all over her .-.

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

V

February 5, 2278.

The doctor’s words sank in. No. It’s the other way around. I have no one else but her.

After that first incident with the Brotherhood, I had been more vigilant in protecting Percy more than ever. Dr. Li and the few scribes she had authorized are the only people allowed inside Percy’s room, and the scribes who are allowed in need to be accompanied by the doctor at all times, never unsupervised. There were people all over the wasteland whose lives she touched that wanted to see her. Some of the teenagers she helped in Big Town came by yesterday but they were turned away. Moira Brown, the annoying scientist who runs Craterside Supply in Megaton, came by too. She wasn’t allowed inside. Less work for me.

Dr. Li was in the middle of taking Percy’s blood pressure when the intercom crackled. “Dr. Li, there’s some kid insisting that they see Percy Zhou. I’m telling him to leave but he’s persistent.”

“Not another wastelander wanting to see her. It’s the fourth time today,” Dr. Li sighs, walking towards the intercom. “I thought I made myself clear the first time. No visitors.”

Then, the boy’s voice comes in, accompanied with a dog’s bark. “Hey! Don’t you know who I am? I’m the Butch DeLoria! Percy and I grew up together in the Vault! We’re even in a gang together! Let me i-”

“Get off that! Dr. Li should I-”

“He’s being truthful,” I finally say when the doctor starts massaging her temples.

“You know who he is? Can he be trusted?”

I weigh my options. On one hand, he can be, and he brought Percy’s dog with him. On the other hand, I would have to put up with that obnoxious piece of shit again.

“Yes.”

The doctor leans into the intercom. “Send him in.”

The door swings open and the Brotherhood grunts shove the guest in. He looks exactly the same as the first time I saw him, save for the wasteland grime and the white shirt and jeans he had in place of his vault suit underneath his leather jacket, identical to the one Percy wears when she’s not in her armor. Comb in hand, the pretty boy greaser fixed up his stupid pompadour. Percy’s dog bounds towards me, panting and wagging his tail.

Maybe this visit wouldn’t be so unpleasant after all.

“I said watch the hair, goddammit,” he snarls at the tin cans. They just shrugged and left.

“And who are you?” Dr. Li cuts in, holding a medical clipboard with a stern expression on her face. It resembles Percy’s, at times. Honestly, it’s weird.

“Butch DeLoria, y’know, the new barber in Rivet City? Percy’s gang leader? Anyway, where’s Percy? I brought Dogmeat with me, I thought that he’d- oh. Damn.”

DeLoria shut his damn mouth up when he saw Percy lying unconscious on the gurney, tubes attached to her body and living on life support. Her skin, though now free of burns, is still ghostly pale, and her lips still tinged blue. Her hair stopped falling off, but she still lost clumps. Breathing faint, still bleeding in some places, but alive.

“Perce, what happened to you?” he mumbles, walking over to her. His face sags and so does his shoulders. Pretty boy reached out to touch her, but I placed an arm to hold him back, and shook my head. Dogmeat sniffs his mistress' hand and I hold him off as well, which earned me a whine.

“Hey, what’s the big idea?”

“Her immune system is still compromised,” Dr. Li speaks up, wedging herself between Percy and us, and she puts her gloves on.

“Whaddaya mean, doc?”

“Persephone is suffering from aplastic anemia due to the radiation exposure damaging her bone marrow. It means her red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelet count are plummeting. Her body is too weak to ward off even the most benign infections. Platelet transfusions and antibiotics keep her protected but we can never be too careful. It’s miraculous she’s still alive and recovering well for someone who was exposed to a lethal dose of radiation.”

“Damn, doc, English please.” The greaser is starting to get on my nerves, and the doctor’s too. Secretly, I had hoped she would throw him out.

“She is vulnerable and you can kill her with your germs. Now please, one of the scribes will come in soon to clean and disinfect her bedpan and I need to administer some medication. Privacy would be appreciated.”

“Oh. Um. Okay. I’ll just hang with Charon here,” Butch replies. His shoulders sag even further.

“Charon, if you could please ensure that our guest behaves himself so I can tend to Persephone, it would be appreciated,” Dr. Li tells me.

Dammit.

For the first time since she was admitted, I left Percy’s room. Usually, I’d just turn around when the scribes come to clean up after her. Now, I’m stuck with this ass. I’m not sure if I should be relieved that he’s not being himself. The two of us sat in silence on a bench nearby, a seat apart, where Dogmeat sat down. The dog’s resting his head on my lap, and I pet his scarred face, remembering how Percy cried when we almost lost him to a deathclaw in Olney. I settled in my seat. Greaser boy didn’t.

“Hey,” he finally breaks the silence, much to my dismay. I’m not in a conversational mood. I just want to watch over my partner.

“Look man, I know you’re not much of a talker, but I need to get this out,” Butch speaks up, staring at his feet. “I don’t know if Percy ever talked about me, but, I’ve been an ass to her. I hurt her when we were kids, and I hurt her a lot.”

Pretty boy sniffs, lights a cigarette, and offers one to me as well. I take it, and he lights it for me. “Somehow she still had it in her to forgive me for being an ass and we became partners in crime. Then she loved me, trusted me, and I threw that away. Fuck, I’m surprised she still let me back into her life as a friend.”

“Where are you going with this?”

Silence.

DeLoria glares at me, a look of regret and envy in his eyes. What the hell?

“I saw how you look at her.”

“What.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud.

“I had a hunch her joke about you being her new boyfriend wasn’t one. I should be insulted that Percy would rather be with a ghoul than me, but hey, as long as she’s happy huh?”

“What the fuck are you talking about.” The words were bitter and flat, coming from my mouth.

“Wait, I thought you two were together together.”

“What.”

DeLoria groans and palms at the back of the nape. “Man, Perce almost broke my jaw when I called you a zombie in the vault, remember? You two are obviously tight, then some of those Brotherhood assholes were talking about how she’s riding ghoul dick. I thought I put two and two together.”

I couldn’t help myself. I stood up and grabbed him by the collar, fuming. The cigarette falls from his mouth as I push him against the wall. “My partner is unconscious, barely alive, and a distasteful comment about her is the last thing I want to hear.”

I wanted to break his jaw for real. The kid smells like aftershave, cigarette smoke, and fresh, adrenalized sweat. All of the false bravado he had drained from his face.

“Whoa, calm down! Don’t shoot the messenger, geez. I’m an ass, but I’d be the last to talk shit about Percy. Not after what she’s been through. Take it out on the Brotherhood, not me!”

“What else are they saying?”

“Well, one of them called you a freak, a zombie, a cradle-robbing corpse, a-”

“I do not concern myself with what they say about me. What did they say about my partner?”

“They called her a bleeding heart, a ghoul fucker and a mutant lover, I don’t know, dammit. I just got here, remember?”

I let him go before I hurt him with my misplaced anger. We pick up our fallen cigarettes. DeLoria straightens his jacket.

“Man, you’re too intense. Chill, won’t you?” He tosses a stick of bubblegum to me and I catch it with one hand. “Here. I was supposed to bring ‘em for Percy but, yeah. I didn’t know she ain’t awake. Guy on the radio just said that she’s alive thanks to you.”

I grunted in acknowledgement, and unwrapped the bubblegum. Damn sugar is going to rot my teeth, and I’m fortunate enough to still have most of them, but I couldn’t help it. It’s a habit I picked up from travelling with my partner. I pop it in my mouth and sit back down on the bench, contemplating.

What DeLoria told me explains the weight behind Li’s words when she said that she didn’t care what the nature of my relationship with my partner was. Percy cleaned up the wasteland, started the damn purifier, and almost died as a result, and she receives not a single ounce of respect. Just because she chose to be associated with me.

I can’t help but resent the Brotherhood even more. Ungrateful bastards.

“Dammit, I’m not good with this heart-to-heart bullshit. I don’t care, just… never stop taking care of Percy, okay?”

I nod at him. He's resting his head on his hands. “Screw it, I’m off. I’ll try to visit again soon. I’ll leave the dog here. If- when she wakes up, tell her I’ll do her hair for her. It’s a mess.”

DeLoria finally stands up and dusts his jacket. He walks away wordlessly, head hung low on his shoulders.

Once again, I’m left with my thoughts.

I pondered on the rumors about our relationship.

Percy is the first friend I made in a long time. My condition did not bother her. She went out of her way to put any bigot in their place, even when their words had no effect on me. She shared with me her bubblegum, Nuka-Cola, her books, the roof over her head, and a whole lot more. She’s my first employer who treated me as an equal, and the only to grant me freedom from my contract.

Percy cannot be harboring feelings for an old, damaged ghoul like me. Hell, her ex-boyfriend is a pretty boy. I can’t fucking compete with that. She, as Carol said, is a pretty, young smoothskin. A happy future with a smoothskin spouse is what she deserves. A liaison with me would be terrible for her. Ghouls already face enough bigotry on a daily basis. Merely being accused of fucking one can have dire consequences for a smoothskin. Bigots will lynch her, whether I did touch her or not.

She doesn’t deserve that.

She deserves better than me.

I crushed the cigarette under my heel and grimaced. I went back inside Percy’s room after Dr. Li gave me the all-clear, Dogmeat following close behind. At the foot of her bed, I sat once more, this time with a mutt on my lap. I look at Percy’s sleeping form, the tubes, and the medical equipment.

I need to hear her laugh again. I need to touch her. I need to hold her hand, and close it around mine. I need to feel her warmth pressed against my chest. I need to feel her lips against my ruined mouth again, just like in the rotunda.

In the five months I knew her, Percy stirred something in me, and I did my best to hold it in. I was scared; it’s unfamiliar.

The kiss she gave me before she went in the purifier forced me to confront the truth. Everything I had suppressed rushed to the surface.

Is it love?

Whatever it is, it gave me hope.

It ruined me.

[twisted-nox-sidus]

(I'm bad with clear skies. I want to hide my ugliness from the light. But things lurk in the shadows cast by that light... And I'm a little interested in finding out more about them.) - Strix, narrating.

Based off nighttime and an owl, so she's not necessarily "twisted" from anything/anyone. She's actually designed around an otome MC struggling with the concept of love (because why not).

(Note: This post is super long since I put a lot of depth into this OC. There’s a lot of angst surrounding her than what’s given at face value. I even left out some details that are considered a surprise that reveals more about Strix. Some bits of her profile are rather messy and all over the place. I hope you guys love her as much as I do!)

Name: Strix Noctowl

Real Name: Secret

Nickname(s): Transfer Student, Problem Child, Newbie, etc.

Age: 16

DOB: 3/3 (Pisces)

Gender: Female

Height: 5'4.5" (164 cm)

Likes: Fluffy things, birds (particularly owls), music boxes

Dislikes: Gossip, thunder, her eyes

Hobbies: Reading, singing, piano playing

Race: Human

Affiliation: Night Raven College

Year: First

Relative(s): Unnamed mother (deceased), unnamed father (defected), unnamed grandparents, Sidney (great-grandfather)

Dorm: Unallied

Personality

A down-to-earth but curious young lady who never runs short of her sharp-tongue. She goes by Strix Noctowl in order to separately identify herself as the girl known specifically in Twisted Wonderland. Strix tends to be pessimistic and talk about pop cultural references no one in Twisted Wonderland would understand but nonetheless is determined to return home. She is more of a nocturnal person.

She is known to be “disobedient” and rebellious by the NRC. Many students admire her for her fearless, outspoken character but also keep at a distance to avoid getting roped in potential punishments with her.

Strix is not a virtuous person and can play petty if the situation compels her. She can be violent and won't hesitate to resort to a little punch to get her point across. Questions how most of the cast don't know the meaning "no" on a daily basis.

Underneath her shell, Strix is a touch-starved, naive, and utterly vulnerable girl. The absence of her parents led her to believe she is not loved and relies on her dear grandfather for almost anything she has trouble with. She is also shy about asking to fulfill her selfish desires and sometimes hides it too well that it becomes painfully evident to others.

Strix has a child-like impulse to touch things that pique her curiosity, such as trying to touch Leona's ears or Malleus' horns. The Savanaclaw dormitory is a prime victim of her "harassments".

Strix has a bad habit of falling asleep on a constant basis to the point she can sleep with her eyes open and stay still from what she was doing (ig. holding a stack of papers). This also happens arbitrarily at random places and time, such as sleeping mid-conversation. It's an impressive feat, as remarked by many of the guys. The habit was stemmed from the inner part of Strix that likes to dream (despite being a realist) and being a sound sleeper. She says this is the only time she can truly escape the cruel reality. It's a technique Strix may or may not be proud of.

About

Strix is a rare case at Night Raven College. Initially it appeared she had no powers whatsoever and was not remarkable in magic classes. Pretty disastrous, actually. She received a lot of hostility from the students who believe she doesn't deserve to be a worthy student at the prestigious magic academy, the very field she sucks at. Soon, Strix awakens her powers (explained in Abilities section) and works to control it while attending the college.

Due to Strix's insistence, she identifies herself as an "unallied" student and is taking residence at the run-down dormitory. She had complained a lot about each and every dorm and considers the NRC dorm a better place to reside in. She didn't really mind being the sole student in the rundown dorm since she was accustomed to solitude. She won't spend much time other than sleeping there anyways.

In order to repay Crowley's generosity and protection, she volunteered to work as his aid, such as helping clean up and sorting the books and documents piling up his workload. In addition, Strix works part-time across each of the seven dorms to earn herself money instead of relying on Crowley all the time. This also helps keep her busy and familiarize herself with the dorms and its students (since she has to cooperate with the uncooperative chaotic student body). (FYI, her payment is based on her performance which will be reported by the dorm leaders to determine the wage.)

Abilities

Strix has the ability to summon colorful, quirky, and adorable Dream Eater Spirits (please think of the Kingdom Hearts series because that's exactly what they will look like. I’m not capable of creating them myself so please use them as reference) that obey her heed. She surprisingly has good control of her magic (probably because she’s a dreamer and is adept with her dream magic as a result) and works on honing her abilities so she doesn't subconsciously summon the fun yet pesky creatures and start a zoo attraction. If a colorful creature is running rampant on campus, you know who is responsible for it. A common Dream Eater Spirit she summons is a curious owl dubbed Peepsta Hoo (shown below).

History

Strix was raised by her great grandfather Sidney since she was a child, whom she trusts and loves the most in her family. Sidney is a half-blind antique shop owner; a man who was born on the very day and year Disney was founded (10/16/1923). He practically grew up with Disney and shares his love with his descendants including Strix, who also adores the magic of Disney as a result. He is at least 96 years old, yet still somehow has spunk to him.

Strix's mother died from childbirth. Her father couldn't handle the sight of Strix who was slowly looking more like his dead wife every day and abandoned her to start a new life with another woman, essentially cutting ties with Strix when she was only five years old. In an outburst he said he hated Strix's eyes that were said to be devoid of light and emotion ever since she was an infant before leaving the house with luggage in hand. Strix dislikes her birthday since that marked the day her mother died and never encourages her own birthday parties or gifts.

Strix grew up resenting her eyes that were seen as a curse. Her grandparents even agreed with her former father that her mother gave birth to a "heartless, cursed monster". It was said that for the first five years Strix was born into the world, she barely expressed emotion outside of a blank slate, though Strix herself claims to not remember that. Her grandparents on her mother's side still resented her for her mother's death while the grandparents on her father's side don't want to have anything to do with her. Only Sidney was willing to raise her.

Strix is touch-starved due to the absence of her parents. As a child she had wished for them to pat her head, hug her, and hold their hands; the simple intimate things expected for family to do. She never knew her mother, and her father was aloof towards her and even treated her like the Plague by avoiding contact with her. What she had wished was for their affection, or rather the affection of a mother and/or father (which will be fulfilled by everyone’s bird dad Crowley in the future).

The only one who could meet her demands was Sidney who happily gives her attention and affection. He was the only one she could confide to and seek help.

Strix grew up believing she only needed to depend on the love of her great grandfather. She was extremely timid and nervous as a child who didn't understand how to befriend kids her age and harbored jealousy towards them who lived with happy families. This jealousy is what primarily made her keep a distance from them. As a result, she didn't make any friends, and never had up to when she was warped to Twisted Wonderland.

Strix once had a crush on a boy (dubbed "Caelum" for narrative purposes) who smiled brightly like the sun and filled her with warm giddiness. However, that was when she was six years old and the boy in high school, practically a decade year gap between them. It was more of adoration than romantic attraction, but she never met anyone else who was as nice and warm as him other than Sidney.

Caelum was her neighbor who babysat her whenever Sidney had to run errands. He played with her and spoiled her with her needs; they were like brother and sister. It was until he had graduated and moved away to dorm in a faraway college that they never saw each other again until seven years when a letter of invitation was sent for his wedding.

Strix's emotions conflicted over how she should express her romantic feelings among the platonic ones up to the day of his wedding. She froze up and fled out of fear before she could answer him. The moon was blue yet cold that night, and she discovered something like a mirror in the garden pond. She was suddenly shoved from behind and fell into the mirror. This leads to the current situation and the start of a twisted fairytale where happy endings are not as they seem.

Trivia

- Strix is a name used in various mythologies to refer to creatures who bring forth misfortune. They usually appear in the form of birds, mainly owls. "Strix" is also a genus of owls in the typical owl family (Strigidae).

- Noct in Noctowl means "night". Yes the owl is snuck in there, go figure.

- Strix's birthday falls on "I Want You to Be Happy", also known as Girl's Day.

- Strix once took care of a baby snowy owl as a child but had to say her farewell when it was released into the wild. Ever since, she likes to learn more about the beautiful feathered creatures.

- Strix's preferred type of person is someone who would wholeheartedly accept her touch-starved needs. Of course, she would do the same vice versa.

- Strix's most treasured item is the wristwatch that also plays like a music box. She never goes out without it. She also carries a gold heart lock (the one seen in her default outfit) on her out of impulse and never bothered to understand why. She says she feels safe bringing it with her.

- Strix has 2.0 eyesight. She can pinpoint a person from far away and recognize them.

- If you rub Strix's head in a particular way by running your fingers from behind her ears and massaging her scalp, she'll fall asleep. Apparently it calms her nerves and loosens the tension built up. She melts like goo on the spot and subconsciously clings to the person, purring in contentment like a completely different person (like an affectionate house cat). It's effective for silencing her, having her sleep, or just fluster her altogether. The first in the NRC to discover this embarrassing weak spot was...? That's a story for another time, though.

- Strix learned to play the piano for ten years since she was six years old, the same time when she first met Caelum. Caelum was the one who got her into the piano after expressing his love for the instrument and classical music. Initially Strix played to earn recognition from him, but over time, especially after he left, she grew fond of the piano (also because the sound works similarly to a music box) and honed her expertise in the field. She won piano competitions up to now and has a goal of becoming a pianist in her career. Her piano skills are highly praised by her peers and sought after by Azul, but even then she feels insecure. Ever since the wedding, her hands freeze up and hover over the keys as she automatically recalls the daunting memory of Caelum and her bittersweet emotions. The crowd's peer pressure wasn't helping either. (And yes, she can play the piano while asleep. What a pro.)

- Strix's love for Disney makes her prone to humming and singing to songs including but not limited to Disney as she works (of course when she knows she's alone). Sometimes she can get carried away with her singing and wind up lost in her own world as she does and would take a while to notice another presence in the room. When she gets caught, she dies on the inside and gets extremely embarrassed to the point of acting tough with a tomato red face. Apparently she is terrible at being self-aware of her surroundings when she gets into it. Then again, this is the same girl who falls asleep in the middle of corridors without realizing she was asleep.

- On that note, her singing voice is actually really nice, almost trained like a pro. Azul officially never lets her out of his sights now that she has full potential to be a full-time staff at Mostro Lounge. Her singing and piano skills are much needed at Mostro Lounge, however Strix would only willingly do the latter. She would die before singing in public. That's a big no no.

- Strix is said to have back (and neck) problems. Probably from the arbitrary times she sleeps in uncomfortable positions, or simply the stress from Night Raven College and the students' antics overall. Someone once touched her shoulder and mistook her for a statue. It's surprising how her appearance hides the stress and drowsiness well. She looks nothing like your average sluggish person.

- Strix likes antagonistic characters in storytelling. She tends to like the villains more than the main characters because she admires the good, the bad, and the ugly of their characters unbound by the laws that prevent them from their free spirits. They're flawed, but she finds relief in knowing they are not completely black like many would depict.

- Strix had a fear of brooms as a child after she watched Fantasia. She grew out of it soon, but even to this day she still looks back on the rather horrific scene with a pale face while holding the broom during flight class, much to Ashton’s confusion.

[ellebeebee]

A character study of Victoire, Sabine’s foster sister/lady’s maid.

1749 words, no paring, general rating

Once, Chrétien, the second child and the oldest son, asked her where she came from.

“I am a fae,” Victoire had said. “Sent out from the other realms as punishment.”

“Did you do something bad?”

“Yes, very.  I was too inquisitive.  You see, Her Majesty, the Fae Queen, has a little room she locks from the rest of us with a little golden key.  Beneath the door is a crack from which such strange shadows slipped.  I could never get a hold of the key, so instead one day I peeked into that crack.  I was caught and cast out.”

“What was in the room?”

“Perhaps I will tell you when you are older.”

“Ugh, you’re just like Mama and Papa.”

“And you are just like the silly little gnomes of the other realms.  Foolish and impatient.”

“Is Madame Jean a fae?  She is very strange.”

“No, she’s a witch.  I don’t think there is anyone like me here.  I think I shall always be alone.”

“You’re with us though.  Won’t you be like us?”

Victoire had sent Chrétien out to play.  No, she would never really be like this family.  She stuck out like sudden snow on spring soil, among their brown and tawny faces.  Two foolish parents with more blood than sense, and eight children riding a thin edge between little aristocrats and wildlings.  Victoire was not one of them, but so what?  What was one more amongst their brood?  Especially when she could cook and clean and play a pretty tune on the pianoforte.

Inevitably, she became Sabine’s companion by way of the closeness in their ages and the girl’s own persistent sociability.  Sometimes the other girl had moods of sullenness and vanity, but she did have much to resent in her situation and too few opportunities to merely be herself without the responsibility of irresponsible parents.  Victoire weathered it all coolly; the excessive bad temper along with the sweetness desperately struggling to survive in such hostile conditions.

Of course, it was not always so bad.  There were periods of better situation, and it is curious to note that as wealth became more plentiful in the house, Victoire’s own position as companion or foster sister became demoted to lady’s maid.

It mattered little.

It was all the same to Victoire, as long as she had warm feet, a square meal, and a quiet corner in which to read and recover from the day.  She did not desire further relationships, but did not begrudge Sabine’s desire for her company.  She did not harbor ambition, but did not mind assisting with Sabine’s deep-rooted dissatisfaction.

Victoire had no great designs on being a grand lady’s maid, but neither did it repel her.

Yet when they entered Namaire’s house, and certain entrenched women in the staff began vying for a spot on the baroness’s personal staff, her reaction surprised her.  Victoire dug in her heels and rebuffed those that could not be trusted.

“It’s not as if you have any say in it,” a particularly brazen of these had said to her face. “After all, I heard you were just some foundling-- a little orphan that wandered into that decrepit old house of theirs.”

“Well, you were misinformed,” Victoire had said. “I am a ghost made flesh.  I had haunted that house for centuries, in such pain and distress that I had long since forgot my original humanity.  Then I heard a pretty little song sung by those children.  My feelings were so moved, I became corporeal again, so that I could protect them.  But I do still feel dark currents of the dead.  Everywhere.  Especially in this house.”

“W-well, I never!”

When the baron died, Victoire had ordered all the red silk, helped Sabine through her tears, and given the widow all the names that should be expunged from the household.  The days were much more orderly, afterward, and Victoire was pleased to be able to read a great deal more. Not that there weren’t things to be done; no, there were the parties, and the scheming, and all the new business and political speculations.  Not to mention to mention the romantic misadventures.

Victoire sometimes supposed she should attempt to get more from life.  Being good at being a lady’s maid or the staff supervisor was one thing.  But a family or a lover or anything of that nature did not interest her.  People, on the whole, did little to interest her.

So she did not think much on her own feelings when Sabine departed for the Summit.

“What will you do, Victoire?”

“Perhaps I will fly back to my homeland on the moon where there is perpetual twilight.  Or visit my mer cousins deep beneath the blue waves.”

“Oh haha, very funny.  This may be the last time we see each other.  I will write, of course, to tell you if I make any decisions, but…  I want you to know that you are free to choose another life.”

“You say that quite a lot.”

“Well, I mean it.  You do puzzle me, dear.  I can never tell if you are happy with me or not.  And I have known you too long to be insensitive to your well-being.”

“The barony still needs looking after.  That steward can’t handle everything.  I am quite content with that.”

“Very well.  Do write.  And not just about the barony.  About yourself, and if you change your mind.”

“Good-bye, Sabine.”

As was her habit, the baroness parted tearfully.

And Victoire spent some weeks walking the quiet halls of the Namaire estate, only half-remembering the peals of laughter and the clink of champagne flutes and the music of the absent guests and their entertainments.  Everyone walked on timid feet, especially around Victoire.  If the baroness married again, and moved away, then much of the staff would be let go.  And Victoire would be making many of those decisions.

It was nice to be respected, but it was better to be left in peace.

-

My darling Victoire,

I have been quite foolish, my dear.  I have somehow misplaced my senses entirely these past few weeks, and allowed myself to be swept up in the empty flatteries of a paramour.  I am to be wed.  To His Highness, Prince Zarad of Corval.

What can I say?  He is a fool, I am a fool, and we shall be terrible little fools together.

I know you don’t care for these sort of details, but I am helpless in the face of my own silliness-- I must confess that he is dreadfully glib and overtly charming and with such an ego!  And before you say that sounds familiar, I shall inform you that I am always sincere, and never do I participate in his sort of chicanery. 

But I am so fond of him.

I am sure I am losing your attention at this point, so I will get straight to it.  I would like to know what you want to do.  You are free to stay at Namaire, but if you wish for a different position, in Revaire or wherever your heart should fancy, merely say the word and I will manage it.  If you wish for an alliance, I may have some ideas that could put you in a very nice station in life.

If, and I will confess this is the option I selfishly prefer-- if you wish to follow me to Corval, I will exert my utmost influence to allow it.  I think Corval will suit you, and I mean that in the most complimentary way.

Perhaps not the heat, though.  You do burn so easily.  We shall buy hats.

Write to me soon, as there are only a few weeks left.

Your loving Sabine

-

The next day, Victoire pinned a list of names to the board in the servants’ quarters where unpleasant announcements were attached.

She spent the morning in a rotation of brief meetings with certain staff members.  Several generous parcels of coins sat in her desk drawer, and as one maid or under-butler came in, they left with their severance pay, instructions on when and how they should exit the Namaire estate and whether they would be getting a recommendation.  Also, tears.  They often left with tears.

Victore finally pushed her door open to stare down the line of servants sitting in a row of chairs against the wall.

“I have had quite enough of the crying,” Victoire stated coolly. “It is unprofessional and is quickly dissolving any desire I have to impart pay and recommendation letters.  I suggest leaving this moment if you plan on shedding tears in my office.”

The door clicked decisively behind her, shutting out the wide eyes and trembling lips.

Really.  Trembling lips!

It was easier when Sabine was here.  It was easier for Sabine.  She could be the sweet and sympathetic one.  Victoire was the authority, the hammer.  She didn’t mind.

It suited her.

Suitably threatened, the last of the fired maids and manservants passed in and out of her office with dry cheeks.  Afternoon bent back high in the yellow sky before Victoire was finally left alone with her thoughts.  Her office: cozy at about six paces in any direction, with a little worn desk, a velvet tufted chair on her side, and a plain wooden seat on the other.  Neatly organized staff records in her desk drawers, a brand new blotter on the surface, and an elegant mother-of-pearl fountain pen.  A gift.

Victoire pulled open her top drawer.  She was half-startled by the palor of her own slim hand on the mahogany woodwork.  She took out Sabine’s letter.  Outside her half-open window, the stablemasters were discussing the plans for selling the estate’s horses.  Not all of them could go; Precious, Marble Oracle, and Tantivy were all great sources of income as proven studs, and of course the work horses for the estate’s skeleton crew would stay.  But the others would be sold.

Victoire looked back down at the letter.

“Perhaps I will transform back into a fine mare; dun-colored and white-maned with violets in my tail.  I will run and run and leave nothing behind.  I will be flotsam and jetsam on a cold summer breeze.”

There was no reply.

Victoire sighed.  She pulled blank stationery out, and plucked the mother-of-pearl fountain pen from its stand.  She would write to Sabine, and admit a preference for headscarves over hats for the Corvali sun.

After all, she would perhaps miss the girl.  Perhaps.