Private Tales Isolation of Summer

[Danthir]

The edges of the room began to dissipate as his vision swam with that familiar sensation of losing sight and gaining much more clarity in the same moment. The defined lines around him of the room now translucent before being entirely removed from his perception of reality as the question lingered in his mind. Became the focus of his limited gaze as the ever present surroundings yet unseen began to hum and glow with a life that many had never claimed to witness.

The warmth of the near black air tinted with a honeyed gold that wove its way around and through everything all around him. The points it tethered itself to were invisible for the time being as it began to fill the warm dark in every direction with a soft glow that brightened as he drew nearer to it.

It never failed to draw an awe-inspiring gasp out of him to once more see the tapestry of the world encompassing him.

Gauzy and blurred at first until he rose from his kneeling across what had once been an alabaster floor piece. Hard against the bone and cold even against the natural heat that filled him. Now perhaps changed to a pane of glass that held him upright in the expanse that contained only the glow of that vast and ceaseless Weave around him. The gold tint of his eyes was a poor imitation of the vibrance that deigned to be perceived by someone such as himself. It always amazed him to take in such a wondrous thing, to gaze into the stretched loom of life itself and observe what had spun itself into possibilities to be yet made real. The lids of his eyes drew together a bit more as he tried to distinguish the piece he sought. To silence the commanding question that resonated within his mind.

The gauzy film of the Weave like gathered tulle until his eyes had been forcibly focused with small gestures of a drawn brow. A slow process of focusing that left him beginning to dance on the edge of pain at the effort. A pressure formed with a full yet dull weight as if a hand had passed through the back of his skull and now settled against the backside of his eyes and sinus.

The radiant glow before him became defined and gave up the clearly drawn threads that diverged beyond a singular choice. A thrum of the request reforming into a solid drum beat as a twining of threads further down drew his studious gaze. A faint glow emitting from that gathering of threads, beckoning him closer in silent promise of the answers another sought. Answers that would release him from the hum of chaotic noise that began to grow with each step forward. As if the world these threads were tied to had begun to bleed into his perception with each avenue of action and the sounds of each encounter were playing out with only himself as a witness.

Here.

The only sound loud enough to remain solidly above the din of voices. Angry and pleased, blending into a formless, twisting dance of sound that threatened to overwhelm his senses. Until his finger finally settled on that singular point of meeting threads, and his vision shifted to a focused point in time. A time where choice mattered and set forth the path ahead of them all.

A familiar face formed in his sight, expression wearing a visage of abhorrence cast at a face unfamiliar and foreign to the silent watcher. An argument that devolved into an altercation. Unfeeling as the events played out and ended only when one life was snuffed out.

Pulled back into the Weave while the victorious party shambles away.

The question answered, it now danced on his lips as he was forcibly thrown back to the real. An unseen hand pulling him back as though he were an adolescent child. Collared and placed once more on those alabaster floors, kneeling again before the Ivory being that loomed above him unmoving as he remembered. Casting eyes down at him expectantly as had been done so many times prior. Impatience drawing out a twitch along her stern countenance and finally upsetting the placid line her lips had drawn that had held until he drew a ragged breath.

The sign of his return. The sign of an answer being plucked free and being prepared as his will was pushed aside. A compulsion extracting the words that waited to be shared from his mind.

He could no more resist it than the fall of rain. But he could direct it much like one could do with a rain chain.

He knew how the events would play out. The possibilities had been laid bare before him. Each witnessed on their own with a pace that barely allowed him to bat an eye. Everything captured in his mind and scorched into memory until the words of the brightest thread had been spoken. Only then would those possible avenues of the future eventually fade from his mind.

“The wolf from low slung plains will discover the regretful rabbit atop a dark hill.”

The words forcibly ejected from him as he skewed the words before they left his lips. A prophecy was never truly clear, but could be readily made clear by a clever mind. The only touch of control during this time he had was the spinning of those precious words.

“A passionate dance twixt them till the rabbit lays to rest.”

He would not share his uncles fate so readily. The meaning twisted as much as his compulsion would allow. The tingle of the only fire that could burn him wrapped round his tongue as he danced along the tenuous line of lie and omission.

Control over himself finally returned with a heaving gasp as if he'd never taken a breath in his long life prior. He could not be burned, nor could he ever truly be wanting for air. But his gift to glimpse the Weave seemed to pass beyond the blessings of the elements that were always about him. Stealing from him the ignorance of the only threats he need never worry about. Hacking with such force that he doubled over further before that ever present figure in his life. Finally breaking their statuesque stance to kneel down without ever letting anything more than their feet grace the ground.

The gown in all its opulence gathered round her in bubble like bunches before fanning out into lengthy displays of the material. His eyes not yet rising to acknowledge her presence but he could not ignore the reflection that he was presented.

He had never actually seen his mother kneel before another, or bend low beyond taking a seat without such a cause as this. Her grace was ever present while his eyes tried to find a non-existent fault in the floor to avoid meeting her gaze. To avoid allowing any kind of hint about his words meaning to slip free before he had collected himself.

The edge of her hand-fan came into view, an item she never found herself without in her daily life as the wooden edge bit into his chin before the subtly directing his gaze upward. To resist meant pain. Meant rebuking the one being that had forged ahead to drag those that carried her name upward in life and to spit on her efforts. His face lifted with no resistance, fighting through the feeling of that hand behind his eyes beginning to pull at the nerves connected there. Tears formed at the pain that came with visit into the place beyond. To steal a hint about what was to come cost him dearly, the hidden lines of those Ivory eyes that told him where his mothers gaze fell became less clear with each vision as he met her fierce stare with resignation and surrender.

His hands against the cool floor now clenched to allow a distraction from everything. To focus against the desire to cry out as pain slowly twisted in the back of his head. All the while his mother's eyes never strayed far from his glistening eyes. Watching for the signs only she had come to understand were telltale flickers of deceit in his words.

The fan that held his gaze aloft fell away from its resting place along his throat, allowing him to move freely as she stood and let her pleasure be known with a content sigh as her eyes moved to the fan.

“You have delivered as requested.” Her voice carried like a whip on the wind before she turned, her steps barely audible against the floor while she disappeared from his view. The room they occupied was large enough to accommodate a small banquet, but always seemed a favorite of Edlemina's to hear the result of her son's visions. In her own words, it made for a picturesque view. The warmth of the light reflected from the floor highlighting his face to detail every facet of his compulsory words. To highlight any attempt at falsehood and deception was his only assumption.

The fan she now held by the end, as if soiled and unworthy, was deposited atop a small curio into a low, wife bowl. The curio sat astride the door leading into the true dining hall beyond as the bowl clacked before a drawer was pulled open.

Their estate was still fairly new in their eyes given they had only resided here a few centuries.

The splendor of its interior was still a fresh topic of feigned admiration while guests were present for discussions of the latest fashion and potential designs in the industry going forward. Along with the possible accessories one might wish to see made for such extravagance. A matter ever present in his mothers life given the influence the Fellovenius family held in the acquisition of such materials as gold and gems.

“Sable.”

 

[Danthir]

A new fan plucked from its place within the drawer of the curio to replace the other, it opened with a snap before it hid the lower half of his mothers face. The old fan deposited in a small, wide dish as the tails of Edlemina's cream colored gown spun round in a slow waltz of put upon grace. A changeling servant appeared as soon as her name was spoken. The lavender, seafoam, and cherry pink splotches vibrant against the reigning silver of her skin. A strange contrast against the clean white gown, adorned with gold trim as all of the other servants in the house wore.

The family's longest standing servant to date, having replaced the late maid he'd had at birth, in service to Danthir exclusively.

Sable's hair forever tangled like a mat of vines no matter the amount of effort put into brushing it. She appeared as if she had been ever present, her elongated feet barely made a noise anymore. She had not bent light nor used a trick of the eye, merely an aspect of her trained practice to place herself just out of sight. Ever prepared to attend but never in the way as her hands rung together.

Never called upon by the Magistrate unless utterly required given her physical appearance. Beauty and symmetry the reigning necessity of the Summer Court, and Sable's appearance clearly disputed that trait. Edelmina visibly flinched at seeing the maid as her fan fluttered, having spun to speak once more and pausing only long enough to affix a smile where a disgusted glare had been mere moments ago.

Visible only to Danthir who still remained on the ground, held up by his shaking legs as his vision attempted to settle and right itself. If Sable noticed the falter in the woman’s posture, there was no sign of reaction upon her features. Feelings had been wrung from her over the millennia of service to the family, and even Danthir couldn't fault Sable for her lack of validation to his mothers persistent shows of superiority.

Her eyes cast down to Edelmina's feet as had been instructed by everyone that was serving the family.

“Ensure he eats. And bathes. I'm sure the effort has taken its toll on him.” The fan fluttered once more as those Ivory eyes passed over him. His mothers gaze was sharp as she turned to the door.

“You are dismissed until I call again.” With her message delivered, she made her exit through the doors, opened and closed by a wave of her hand lest she deign to actually touch the handles. The effort had always been beneath her when Danthir had been witness to her presence.

His brow letting a drop of perspiration loose that stained the alabaster inlay he sat atop like a pedestal. Or rather a platter as an offering to some unknown thing.


Sable did not move until the doors had closed behind the woman, the silence of her steps now plain when decorum wasn't demanded. Soft but echoing in the rather barren hall as she knelt down and produced a rag, pressing it against Danthir’s brow without asking. He flinched from the touch, as he had done so many times before. A thing that had struck at Sable's heart before realizing it didn't matter who laid their hand upon him after a vision. The reaction was based more with instinct than a statement of her station.

The servant who had attended as his surrogate mother prior to her had even received the same reaction. A fact that had taken Sable several centuries to realize the small gesture was not a slight against the maids.

Just a remnant of his fight to regain control.

Slender fingers kept hold of the rag as he settled against the familiar gesture. His breathing finally began to calm and steady against the rampant short huffs and choking coughs he'd been victim to. The heat at his temple began to cool when the pain settled into discomfort, and his teeth were no longer bared. An all too familiar sight for her as her free hand remained on the floor to steady her. Not yet offered in the ritual they had practiced after every session such as this one.

His own hands finally unfurled as his fingers spread wide, pushing against the floor to propel himself onto his knees as his whole form settled onto his calves with exhaustion.

Eyes parted just enough to spy Sable's waiting countenance as his lungs filled with sweet air. Calming the already tense nerves about his mind. Silent wonder about how his mother would react to the events to come without his proper warning. But that was a punishment he would bear later. In the privacy of her sanctuary where she might truly bear her fangs to exact the price of his perceived treachery.

Sable remained placid, the rag seeming to vanish while her hands settled in her lap. Her form bent as she remained half seated on her heels to examine him. Ever present and ready to serve.

It made him irrationally angry every time he had to rely on her. To make use of the caste system that kept her here rather than doing what she enjoyed. He remembered when she'd been purchased. Her previous owner shedding her services with less shame than someone bartering in stolen goods. The disappearance of Hikta had never rightly been settled. His mother stated that his former maid had been traded without his knowing. Other servants whispered about how she'd gone senile and had been put down. But the old harpy had a sharper mind about her than she let on.

Which had been imparted upon him far more than his parents understood. Tales of a place outside the Summer Court where merit won one's place at court. Another court that cared little for the political games and simply sought to enjoy themselves with seldom a care. And many more hushed stories of the parlors that existed between the assorted powers.

All tantalizing stories that seemed little more believable than one's ability to grab hold of the stars.

But his belief in them had slowly grown with each passing century while the old maid had been beside him. Showing him kindness and how to care for others without threatening his own well being. She had certainly pulled her own little tricks. But knowing there was no escape from the gilded cage without certainly perishing for the effort, he wondered if she'd planted those seedling stories to cause his rebellion. The one that had earned him the gaudy piece of gem encrusted gold about his neck.

A slight motion caught his wandering attention. Sable had tilted her head in silent question as his hand rose to answer, taking the quickly offered hand and pushing with his other to steady himself as he rose to his feet.

His knees feeling like the decadent gelatin treat the ladies favored when they visited the Fellovenius Estate during their meetings regarding the latest fashion and potential trends to come. Wobbly and as unsteady as the future, the two made their way up the stairs to the back of the large hall, Sable offered what she could to assist him without making him feel unable to act alone. The time it took them to ascend to the second floor burned a shame into his mind as servants passed them by without so much as a passing glance.

 

[Danthir]

None spoke or shared any sort of greeting, even in the form of a slight nod, as they passed. Each following their assigned tasks to the letter without entertaining the idea of idle chatter between those meticulous constructed instructions. As if they hadn't practiced the same patterns for the entirety of their time in the house and the one prior. With only a handful of beings that could barely be called servants to attend however, all seven of them had their hands full.

The least occupied of them being Toluse, who presided as the assigned guardian of their dwelling. Estate. Properties. Whatever pretty name one gave to it. A silver haired man bearing a half-mask, hiding the top half of his features. The gold lattice work drew attention across their path of high cheekbones with both sides diving in with his natural features across his nose to form a pointed beak. Shades of ebony and green shimmering in the light with their near pearlescent tones behind the gold gilding.

The only other being permitted to escort Edelmina whenever she graced the town without his father being present.

Far more terse and cutting than the majority of the staff with what little interaction he'd seen fit to grace Danthir with. The man's whole demeanor reflected the bitterness he felt about being bound in service through a string of misfortunes that had been placed upon him. Something Danthir had learned over a great deal of time. Only through a set of interactions he had never expected to produce knowledge about the being who embodied the sentiment of strike without question, and worry not.

Serving without objections for the remainder of his contract beneath a debt he had been saddled with. Made to enact Edelmina's will with no assurance to his continued safety.

Thankfully, those that claimed a space to sleep within the house seldom had to lay eyes upon the being unless they were made to cross the threshold. A tactic perhaps to remind them of their place in the world that had been carefully curated for them. Or simply a reminder of how the Matriarch could exact her will upon them if they chose to ignore her requests. A sharp word of dismissal finding one still entrenched with a contract but left to the elements and the odd passerby outside of their comfortable abode.

The Laws of Hospitality invoked in such a way could after all bar entry, perhaps forever if one failed to grovel properly. Ever present those tenants were in the mind when your life began and ended at the door.

When wielded properly, it was an ominous thing to those with few options.

But it was that way for every being in some manner he supposed. The hurdle that was the final step to the second floor mounted, the two beings ambled along as Danthir blinked and squinted against the discomfort. His vision distorted and skewed for the time being, as though a gauzy mask had been slid round his head once more. The process was all too familiar now as the door to his private sanctuary came into view. Every door within the house bore the same darkened wood, each carved with the same steady hand.

Circles began the pattern where a hand was placed. Whether the eye traced high or low on the door mattered little, as the design simply mirrored itself. Equally placed circles that traced a wide arc across the top and bottom panels of the doorway. The arcing lines eventually changed circles into ellipses at the peak of each arc before making the same measured loop down and around once more. The largest difference being the radiating lines of the sun atop the peak of the arch, while the bottom held five simple lines leading towards the center of the door to indicate the moon.

The pinnacles of these ellipses formed what resembled an eye in his opinion, but he cared little beyond the functioning of the lock in the door handle. His attention, much like Sable's, never followed the pattern beyond finding the latch anymore. Only upon his initial inspection of the interior had he been able to enjoy the pattern inlaid within the door. The arch of the shifting circle was much like the sun in the sky, with the moon below to complete the day's cycle as if the flow of nature were represented.

The choice of eyes for the sun and moon had made him wonder however as to the inspiration behind the hand that had carved it.

All the intricate lines of the carving were highlighted by the natural color of the wood itself much to his former delight. A rich red, much like the early streaks of the partially risen sun across the horizon. A feature he'd not let himself enjoy lest he work away the finer details with his grubby hands.

His fingers instead slid against the cold metal, finding it warm beneath his skin moments after the first touch. Lingering there until the latch announced itself and clicked open.

While the Magick on the lock was nowhere near powerful enough to dissuade entry, it was the statement that held meaning to Danthir. A tiny defiance that he was permitted against the one who reminded him without words who truly possessed everything within the walls of their home. Sable ushered him inside, hands switching between holding him up and ensuring the door remained ajar until he had passed the threshold before allowing the door to latch behind them. A faint glint from down the hall caught in the corner of her large eyes.

Little more than a glimmer of light perhaps from a window.

She didn't have the chance for a proper look as the door and its frame connected once more, firmly shutting behind them and leaving her to guess.