{Complete} So I kidnapped your sweet Sparrow
WHO: Kuja {
de_novo_xiii } with a brief appearance by Molly O'Reilley {ferntickled }
WHAT: Of Castles, Canaries and Cages
WHERE: The Estate
WHEN: Early evening/post midnight
*~*~*
He knew she worried about him and he knew she knew but kept quiet as was required of her status. The young maiden seated on the plush carpet, skirt, apron and petticoat pooling around her , was pursing her lips shut as she continued to help embroider the delicate silk spread over the both of them.
Kuja paused, letting the fragile glass bead remain speared by the needle as he observed from where he sat on the chaise. Even their physical placings reinforced their social status; he, the Master of the house, seated on plush brocade and she, the maid, sitting on the floor. Out of all his servants it is she he is most drawn to, not just due to her skill but also due to her innocence. Young Molly reminded him of another young lady, a young Princess, who was sheltered and innocent.
"Molly."
"Yes Master?" The young woman immediately gave him her attention and Kuja held back a smile. She was so eager to be helpful, her whole world comprised of caring for others and love for the simplest of things. An almost blissful life, one that he envied at times.
"Did you have the Princess' clothing delivered to her residence?"
"I did, Master, along with a hairbrush she left behind."
"Good." He pierced the needle into a pincushion before gathering the metres of beaded silk. "We're done here. I'll take my tea in my bedroom."
"Yes Master." She stood and curtsied low, offering a smile before she left to do as she was bid.
The Genome returned to his bedroom, curling up on the sill in his noticably feline manner. His silvery tail swished lazily as he admired the dusk colors slowly bleeding away into the inky nightsky. During times like these, Kuja forced himself to face the nagging feelings he always buried deep in his chest. All the 'what-ifs' of his life, the missed opportunities and the ruined chances...
So he had power. So he had money. So he had finery. What did it amount to? Why did he have an abundance of all three things and hardly any reason to justify them? Was he less of a person because he was not sociable? Did he lack validity because he lacked friendship?
He hated people, it was no secret. They were playthings, pieces on a chessboard to manipulate and use as he pleased. Crowds reminded him of hoards of ants. Disgusting creatures that skittled and skittered here and there. Why would he, a Terran Death Angel, want to be among them outside of business? It was incredulous, and yet it was how his brother lived his life. It was what his brother suggested he do; to stop distancing himself and stop pushing away the hand people extended to him.
Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, his maid entering the room briefly to set a tea tray down on the side table. Enhanced hearing caught her singing a song in her sweet voice as she walked through the hallways back to her room. Molly was his little finch, a darling maiden who knew so little about the world; content to be captive so long as she was kept well.
The Princess was his canary and though he had let her leave his Manor, her heartstrings were still tugged at his whim. He had toyed with her life back on Gaia, in ways she had yet to discover in Rivelata. Garnet with her heartbreaking beauty and her fragile heart trapped in a cage he crafted with lies and love.
Looking around himself, Kuja surveyed his room with detachment. He lived in luxury, each item hand-picked to compliment his style and build the overall atmosphere of decadence. The finest fabrics for the finest clothes, shoes, sheets and curtains. Jewelry, makeup, furniture, beautiful handbound books and glass pens...
The tea was bitter on his tongue, and he set the cup down; clearly disinterested. The taste remained and somehow Kuja knew it was not the fault of his maid that his tea tasted horrid.
It was the sudden realization that in his obsession to capture the Princess and keep her in a cage, Kuja had built one around his very self and he was not sure if there was a key.
de_novo_xiii } with a brief appearance by Molly O'Reilley {ferntickled }
WHAT: Of Castles, Canaries and Cages
WHERE: The Estate
WHEN: Early evening/post midnight
*~*~*
He knew she worried about him and he knew she knew but kept quiet as was required of her status. The young maiden seated on the plush carpet, skirt, apron and petticoat pooling around her , was pursing her lips shut as she continued to help embroider the delicate silk spread over the both of them.
Kuja paused, letting the fragile glass bead remain speared by the needle as he observed from where he sat on the chaise. Even their physical placings reinforced their social status; he, the Master of the house, seated on plush brocade and she, the maid, sitting on the floor. Out of all his servants it is she he is most drawn to, not just due to her skill but also due to her innocence. Young Molly reminded him of another young lady, a young Princess, who was sheltered and innocent.
"Molly."
"Yes Master?" The young woman immediately gave him her attention and Kuja held back a smile. She was so eager to be helpful, her whole world comprised of caring for others and love for the simplest of things. An almost blissful life, one that he envied at times.
"Did you have the Princess' clothing delivered to her residence?"
"I did, Master, along with a hairbrush she left behind."
"Good." He pierced the needle into a pincushion before gathering the metres of beaded silk. "We're done here. I'll take my tea in my bedroom."
"Yes Master." She stood and curtsied low, offering a smile before she left to do as she was bid.
The Genome returned to his bedroom, curling up on the sill in his noticably feline manner. His silvery tail swished lazily as he admired the dusk colors slowly bleeding away into the inky nightsky. During times like these, Kuja forced himself to face the nagging feelings he always buried deep in his chest. All the 'what-ifs' of his life, the missed opportunities and the ruined chances...
So he had power. So he had money. So he had finery. What did it amount to? Why did he have an abundance of all three things and hardly any reason to justify them? Was he less of a person because he was not sociable? Did he lack validity because he lacked friendship?
He hated people, it was no secret. They were playthings, pieces on a chessboard to manipulate and use as he pleased. Crowds reminded him of hoards of ants. Disgusting creatures that skittled and skittered here and there. Why would he, a Terran Death Angel, want to be among them outside of business? It was incredulous, and yet it was how his brother lived his life. It was what his brother suggested he do; to stop distancing himself and stop pushing away the hand people extended to him.
Footsteps interrupted his thoughts, his maid entering the room briefly to set a tea tray down on the side table. Enhanced hearing caught her singing a song in her sweet voice as she walked through the hallways back to her room. Molly was his little finch, a darling maiden who knew so little about the world; content to be captive so long as she was kept well.
The Princess was his canary and though he had let her leave his Manor, her heartstrings were still tugged at his whim. He had toyed with her life back on Gaia, in ways she had yet to discover in Rivelata. Garnet with her heartbreaking beauty and her fragile heart trapped in a cage he crafted with lies and love.
Looking around himself, Kuja surveyed his room with detachment. He lived in luxury, each item hand-picked to compliment his style and build the overall atmosphere of decadence. The finest fabrics for the finest clothes, shoes, sheets and curtains. Jewelry, makeup, furniture, beautiful handbound books and glass pens...
The tea was bitter on his tongue, and he set the cup down; clearly disinterested. The taste remained and somehow Kuja knew it was not the fault of his maid that his tea tasted horrid.
It was the sudden realization that in his obsession to capture the Princess and keep her in a cage, Kuja had built one around his very self and he was not sure if there was a key.