One's stride as a lady is incredibly important. One must always use their core, and balance wholly on the ball of their foot, with their back straight, but the length and width of your steps will be determined by your demeanor and rank. As a young Mademoiselle you shall be expected to walk with slender and short stride of a demure quality, while as a married woman of high rank you might walk with long strides but keep them slender, to assert your care for those around you. A haughty woman of high stature may walk with wide and medium strides, to assert she cares for no one but herself.
I was just reading as I hear one ring of the little bell in the parlor, and thought myself to be needed. And so it was with phrases like 'a lady's knees must never be apart while still, and never crossed while seated or separated when siting.' that I went to the parlor. It was still very early in the night and Heather was expected to come breakfast with me so I assumed rightly that it was her. I entered the parlor to find her standing opposite Illy, whom had dressed herself today and wore a blue suit of velvet that was done up with silver chains draped across the chest on one side, from the collar to the shoulder pad, and big silver buttons engraved with the symbol of the Caedis flag.
"You have called, Master." I said, bowing to her as I entered.
"Accompany your guest in my drawing room," She said coldly, "And see her out as soon as she may please but if she does not before six, see her out then."
"But I have heard there is a slave's drawing room here, and wishing not to inconvenience you." Mademoiselle Morbum said softly.
"That drawing room is in use, and as mine is not and I value you and your family to the greatest of esteem, I wish to allow you use of mine." Master replied, turning to her. "I would join you as well if you wished it, if I did not have an appointment to attend to this very hour."
"Thank you very much," Heather replied, rounding the parlor to join me at the staircase. I realized I was vastly underdressed for the occasion in my white and blue dress of a vibrant rose pattern that buttoned at the collared neck and fell to my knees in a limp skirt. She had worn a slim bedazzled dress of jewel coated fabric, that hugged close to her hips and almost tapered at the knees before flaring out again. I lead up the stairs as the gentleman, as I assumed as I had a lesser position than her and had read to do so when presented with such things. We entered the big drawing room filled with all sorts of valuable artwork and antique swords.
"I must ask how I might address you as I know little of the matter despite my readings," I said, "Am I to call you Heather as your friend or Heather Morbum or even Mademoiselle Morbum?"
"You may call me any alone, but it is customary around others that are not as close as we not to call me by my first name alone."
"So it is your bidding for me to call you Heather," I asked, unsure as to weather she wished me to address her like that or not.
"Yes," She replied, seating herself on the sofa beside me with a sweep of her dress skirt. "Call me Heather as I shall call you Sapphire, unless it is you prefer something else."
"Sapphire is best." I replied quickly, before she could say otherwise. "Where I am from, only the wealthy call each-other by anything but first names, unless you are speaking to a mentor, so that is most comfortable for me." We continued on talking about the difference between our worlds until it was we landed on the topic of transformation.
"So you really have never used any of your power?" She asked, now leaning in slightly.
"No," I replied, "My mother raised me oblivious of any abnormality within myself and trained me to appear in mirrors and things as a child, so I haven't the slightest idea how I might even do so, nor what it might look and feel like."
"I suppose I am of little help to you though," She replied, "I act as a raven just as well as any other can, but I hardly know much of transformation. You learn to become a raven instinctively because you see all the other children do it, but only pure-bloods really know how to transform consciencly, because only they can alter their transformations."
"Alter their transformations?" I asked.
"Yes," Heather replied, "When one transforms, your body dissipates and reforms itself into a your other form, but pure-bloods can slow down and mess with that process to become part of the air and appear as a mist or a smoke in order to get by unnoticed or to slip through cracks. And the more powerful and capable the person is, the bigger their form becomes."
"Then when you transform you just become a raven without doing much of anything consciencely?"
"Yes, I could show you if you wished, though you would have to look away as I came back because this dress is not enchanted to come along with me as I transform."
"Oh I don't want to trouble you," I said quickly.
"Alright then," She replied, "We can meet another time for that." And I could have sworn there was a blush on her freckled cheeks. It was at this time I heard the door creek open and looked to see Illy enter.
"Is it time I go?" asked Heather, readying her self to stand.
"No," Illy replied, "I have come only for a book I am in need of and to inform Sapphire there are morning clothes laid out upon her bed." She slipped a book from a shelf and stalked over, even taller than normal in her heels. She approached behind me and reach over my shoulder to hand my head to the side with my chain, before leaning over and placing her mouth upon my neck. I felt and jab of pain and almost convulsed under it, but in a moment she had stood and was wiping off her fangs with a handkerchief, of which she threw to me, explaining, "the marks were fading." before walking off and shutting the door behind her. I looked to Heather expecting to see a look of horror on her face but found she looked wholly unamused but held no surprised expression on her face. I dabbed the blood with the handkerchief and slipped it away, turning back to Heather completely now.
"Monarchs," She said, a little scorn in her voice.
"She is my Master," I reminded her, adding by the tone that I was not going to talk bad of her whether she was here or not.
"Yes," She replied, "I have said wrong, forgive me." She smiled warmly and then took a sip of the poison that had been left for us. "Are you sure you don't want to see me transform?" She asked now, much more intent than before, "It's no trouble really and it might help you get an idea for your's."
"I really don't want to inconvenience you," I began,
"I insist it is not trouble." She interrupted, encouragement on her pink lips.
"Then if you wish it," I said, finally giving in.
"I shall tap my beak with my wind when I wish you to look away," She said, setting her glass back on the table. She looked away and without any warning at all I saw her seemed to powderize into the air of the dress, as a red blurred cloud. The dress fabric fell back and became limp as she collected above the neck into a small red raven, it's wings outstretched and it's pointed beak hard and shiny. She let herself drop onto her feet on top of the limp dress and stood looking at me with her peculiar face. I reazlied how incredibly small she was, as I had seen the Princess transform and she was as tall as my knee, yet this bird was smaller even than a normal raven, and I could have held her in my hands with complete security.
She was the same red as her hair, a sort of orangish strawberry color in the glistening feathers and a little darker in her scaled feet and shiny beak, her black eyes like polished stones in the smooth body of the bird. She stepped up a little and then took off in flight around the clear part of the large drawing room before settling back on the coach. I reached out a hand and she stepped onto it. I raised her to my face and stroked the feathers of the wings lightly before setting her back down again. And in less than a couple minutes she tapped her beak with her right wing and I turned to face the door, hearing only the rustling of fabric behind me for a moment or two.
"You may look now," She said, and I turned back to find her just how she had been before, except now her straight red hair was now not in it's braid but out across her back.
"Your hair has come undone," I exclaimed, standing, "I can fix it for you."
"Oh not it's alright," Heather said, shooing me away as she took it up in her hand and smoothed it.
"No," I said, "You came with it braided and should leave the same way. I can braid well."
"Well alright," She said, a flush across her cheeks I assumed came from the transformation. I got up and stood behind her, and braided her hair as we spoke. It was long and silky but didn't take long to do up in a french braid as it had been, and I tied it off with the ribbon and went back to my seat just in time for the clock to strike six. "This was much fun but I see I am to get going," She said, standing so I might walk her to the parlor door.
"Yes," I replied, "And I hope we may do it another time in the future."
"I shall write you about the matter," She said, "But I must say goodbye now."
"Goodbye," I replied, seeing her off as she walked down the hall by the guards. I shut the door behind her and returned to my room to find my pajamas on the bed. I supposed Illy had noticed my aversion to wearing them lately. I slipped off my dress and on the pajamas, just before seeing a crudely sketched note on the bed beneath them. It said simply 'no buttons.' And sure enough and I inspected the white shirt, I realized it had no buttons with which to close the front. If only the people in the castle were as concerned with modesty as Heather, I sighed, before starting up to Master's bedroom.
It was empty when I arrived, so I sat and waited, but no one came for quite a while. As no one seemed to be coming I began to look around the room and for the first time noticed a large dark wood door with a gold handle next to a bookshelf. I stood and went up to it, and finding it slightly ajar, I figures any door that had been neglected to lock or even close would be open to me as well as anyone else, and so in my boredom and curiosity, I opened it, expecting a closet.
What I found was much more shocking than a closet, and unimaginably more unsettling. In some ways the room was a closet, it's walls were lined with clothes and shoes and and ancestries on shelves, but all the lavish suits and dresses were rendered entirly unimportant by what hung in the large square space in the center. Suspended at head height by five chains off the ceiling, was what looked to be a slender boy, his long blond hair hanging over his neck and off to the side. He was suspended by a black long leather cuff at each limb, that looked like a black ribbon woven carelessly around his limp so it left spots uncovered in little triangles across his skin, and one that was of the same consistency but clamped around his straight waist and stretched to the ceiling in the middle of him gravity.
Despite being hung from the ceiling, he looked completely comfortable and unstrained, as though there was some invisible floor beneath him, and so for a moment I thought there was no way he was alive. I edged into the eerie room assuming it was some strange art piece that was common in Caedis, and that was their equivalent to the stone sculptures that dot Europe's plazas and museums. Keeping close to the wall out of the uneasy feeling that seemed to swarm in the dimly lit room. The statue was blindfolded with loose black fabric and as I edged closer I could hear my feet on the carpet it was so quiet. That was when I saw the face move, and recoiled in horror.
As much as I wanted to deny it, I had seen it move. This was a person. What did that mean? I shuttered at the thought and drew back to the wall. If it truly was a person, it would speak, and if it did, and my fears were correct, I didn't know what I would do. As I pressed against the wall I heard the rustle of clothes, and at the noise the head came up as if to point at me. "Hello?" I spoke almost silently, my voice rattled with fear.
"Your not my master," The being replied, and now I was unsure even if it was a boy or a girl, and resolved to assume neither until I had an opportunity to ask, "And neither are you whom my master has told me to obey." They sounded less than impressed,
"Who are you?" I asked, unsure of anything anymore.
"I?" They asked, "What do you mean by that?"
I wasn't sure what I meant, so I decided to abandon the question. "Do you want me to release you?" I asked, stepping a little closer. I felt my hands tremble as I approached. Why was this person here, who were they, how did they get here?
"Of course not," They replied confidently, "Only Master can release me, and only by Master's hands would I wish for release." I was baffled. I heard laughing near the door and flew back as I saw Illy standing in the doorway. The air seemed to boil around her and never before had she seemed so terrifying as she did now, laughing as her big red eye under it's glass pane seemed to spread it's malice across her face, engulfing her being.
"Good boy," She said grimly, "I would inform mother of your loyalty if I was sure you had not known my presents, and she was alive."
"I did know you were here, but it was for my Master and my self, not for you that I spoke." He replied, calmly turning his head. I back away into the corner.
"Oh relax," Illy said, turning to me and starting my way, her hips swinging as her black heels traced out a slender line of steps towards me, almost like a dance with herself. "He's not mine," She said, "He's my mothers, and is only here while Mother is dead, isn't that right?"
"Yes," He replied. Illy ripped off his blindfold as she passed, revealing a pail and beautiful set of faded eyes, who's pupils seemed to spring back as the dim light hit them. He shook his long blond head of hair and turned to stare as me just in time to watch me get yanked forward by Illy by the chain of my neck. I felt like a helpless doll tossed between children at a day care center, longing for someone to claim me and sneak me home in their backpack, so I might get some peace. "Is she a slave girl of your's?" He asked.
"Yes," Illy replied, "But I can't say she's a decent one, and thing i ought to let you give her some pointers, because she'll only act well when there are other eyes to see it, while the eyes she should perform for deteriorate with disappointment. Perhaps it would do her some good to spend a while in your shoes, or more accurately, your chains."
"A year and she would be the best slave you could have hoped for, but knowing you I doubt you'd like her much then."
"Yes," She replied, "It's true I liked the interesting ones, and I can say I've never found one to top her despite only having known her for a month or so." She drew me in by the chain but I was so shocked by everything that had conspired I forgot even to resist, submitting to her kiss and the fall to the thickly carpeted floor when she let me go. "But lately she's been acting strange, and it's starting to annoy me, and I feel I ought to teach her a lesson in honesty, but that's a hard subject to teach."
"And I can tell you for certain I know her to be quite the anomaly." He said, turning to stare me down as I sat on the floor. I felt slightly betrayed, and at this point just wanted it all to be over. "Her dreams are so sour and bitter and rank I can hardly bear to eat them." Eat them? I exclaimed in my head, but said nothing.
"Are they?" The Illy asked, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
"Most defiantly. All she does at night is scream out, don't touch me, or don't leave me." He said, "Though I can hardly say your dreams are much more appetizing, but I won't talk of that before your slave girl. It would be of much help to me if you could get someone with decent dreams in here for me to eat, because as it is now, I'm half inclined to starve."
"Well you won't have to put up with us much longer," She replied, beckoning me with her finger as she started out of the room. "We'll be off in China for a week or so by tomorrow, and I'll send in Diamond and Ebony to feed you." She fastened the black ribbon back across his eyes, and I got up to follow, keeping to the wall, and unsure of who to trust anymore.
"Hey Slave Girl," He said, calling to me, "Serve your master well, with all you've got, because she's one of the best." And with that the door was closed and the golden handle clicked shut, and I could finally feel the flow of air from the window again, and felt like I had just emerged from a coffin, and nothing about the cold hand on my skin helped the image any. Illy lifted my head like a feather, and bent over me, her red eye drilled holes in me, her cold lips on mine were like forbidden ice, and I hated how I didn't hate this.
"You won't flee, will you?" She asked, "Because the cage door is open."
"It is?" I asked, looking up at her. I felt like her kiss had sucked the life out of me, and death had set in long ago, and only now had I noticed how much I felt like I didn't care about that.
"Of course it is," Master said, "It's always open,"
"Do you want me to flee?" I asked, feeling wholly disheartened at what I imagined to be the answer. She just laughed, but it was forced into an ill nature, and I could tell it was not her laughing, but some other character ingrained in her from birth, that she was not allowed to separate from her soul.
"Of course not," She said, pulling my chin up so she could look at me. I stared in surprise, my eyes wide as I looked at her face for some sort of trickery or lie, but there was none. "I've never had this much fun, and I'de dare say I'd start a war over it is someone took you away from me."
"But then why did you say I am free to go?" I asked. Her face screwed up a bit and she looked away, as if ashamed.
"Because I wanted to see if you would run," She said finally. I shouldn't be blushing.