FotD, Kumquat #2, Dark Chocolate #6
Author: Saya
Universe: MFFF (My Fair Freedom Fighter)
Rating: Teen
Flavors: Flavor of the Day: immiscible (not miscible; incapable of being mixed), Kumquat #2 (everyone's got to start somewhere), Dark Chocolate #6 (disillusionment)
Toppings/Extras: Whipped Cream (Irkanas is seven-ish)
Wordcount: 1,390
Warnings: fantasy world racism, child abuse
Notes: My poor tortured characters. Not sure why I decided to start categorically going through Irkanas's childhood, but this is actually scene five so far. I may polish up some of the others, we'll see.
She tried not to let the high walls of the estate bother her. She had long been surrounded by opulence, what difference did it make to her? She had been uneasy for the entirety of the ride, eyes watching the Rinnian charged with guiding their Ginidin pulled couch just as much as the passing scenery.
Despite having not left the house of her (now former) tormentors for almost two years, the town retains a sense of vague familiarity. It doesn't feel like home, but home is miles away, far beyond the town and the forest.
She banishes such traitorous thoughts, not allowing herself to think of her home that was.
They had abandoned her. Sent her to die. Sent her to suffer.
Why should she grace them with her fondness and her longing? They didn't deserve it.
Wherever she was now, it was to be her home. The ride had passed in a thick silence, them coolly flippant aside from the untoward comment the Lord had made upon their exit. Her merely surprised the "help" was allowed to ride with the masters. It wasn't often you saw Rinnians and Kiwbellans mixing in any state. Let alone the Lord and Lady of a sprawling estate and a young girl newly accustomed to a life of servitude.
They were met at the step by the Servantmaster and Housekeeper, both forewarned of the return of their employers. The driver had leapt down to assist the Lady out of the couch, but the Servantmaster beat him to it. "I presume your visit went well?" The man asked, somehow seeming to far nicer and more efficient than Irkanas had ever seen any Kiwbellan.
"It did indeed!" The Lady took her husband's elbow with a practiced ease and headed into the house, tossing instructions out behind her. "See to it that young Irkanas here get a bath and clean clothes. Have her sent up to me when she's presentable."
Irkanas was quickly and efficiently herded into the house and then into the bathtub by the housekeeper who tutted about the amount of grime in her hair and clucked at her bruises. The sharp gasp drawn from the woman when her back was bared when uncommented upon by both of them. Irkanas thought the woman a mystery, the Kiwbellan housekeeper for a Kiwbellan house (an affluent one at that), shocked by injuries that were quite commonplace in the Rinnians that served within them.
She dared not speak a word, but she wanted to tell the matronly woman that if Irkanas's scrapes and bruises bothered her, than she should see some of the other servants. Ones who had been under a Kiwbellan's employ for longer than three years. Especially the ones that had a temper. Or screamed. The Servantmaster always found something to complain about their work.
It didn't even occur to Irkanas that her new master's might not permit the beating of the staff. The fact had been bluntly stated, had permeated all of her existence, a mere fact of life. So entrenched in her hatred of all Kiwbellans, she'd never stopped to think if they all deserved the dark brush with which she painted them. But that was the way of a child, naive to the complex inter workings of the world and the character's of people.
After being scrubbed until her skin felt raw, she dressed in clothes that felt far fancier than belonged on a servant. Surely this family was not so rich that they could afford to mend such fine fabrics constantly? But it was not as if she had ever been rich, so she didn't pretend to understand how they thought or operated. Let them be foolish with there money, she wasn't about to stop them.
When the housekeeper deemed her presentable ("you'll do," she'd stated, nose wrinkled), she went to appear before the Lady of the house, as requested. The lady was twice as intimidating ensconced within her own sitting room than she had been before. And yet... And yet she exuded a warmth that felt completely at odds with her person. Specifically, the Kiwbellan features it was set in.
"Come here, child," the lady beckoned when Irkanas hovered uncertainly just inside the door.
The voice was quiet and welcoming, but firm all the same. How was it that she could be such? Irkanas complied without thinking, drawing close to the woman's side.
She smiled, tracing a hand over Irkanas's brow; her eyes turning sad when Irkanas flinched under her fingers. "Well you look nice," she said, eyes roving the girl's form. "I'm sure you'll look better with a bit of time. Some rest and food will do you and those bruises a world of good."
Irkanas dragged the sleeves of her shirt further down her arms, suddenly bashful under the lady's unwavering gaze.
"Don't worry child, we all had to start somewhere. Have a seat," she said, waving her towards the padded lounge.
Irkanas gazed at her in askance, only approaching the set after further prodding. She had never been allowed to sit on the upholstery. Always required to stand whenever she was called into the sitting room for one reason or another. There weren't luxurious such as chairs in the servant's quarters, let alone covered and padded ones.
"I thought I might explain to you what I expect of you here at Dellyeach."
She felt her shoulders tighten, straighten perhaps. Felt her fingers clutch at the soft fabric bunching in her lap. The jobs asked before of her were hard, harder than she could really do, but surely this lady, who seemed so nice, wouldn't give her tasks too hard to accomplish?
"You see, I find myself in a bit of a predicament." She paused, shifting stance gracefully, leaning forward in her seat to lock gazes with Irkanas. "My youngest son, Cherl, is the same age as you and lacks a bride."
Irkanas didn't understand all the complexity of marriage yet, but she knew enough from the whispering in the servant's quarters to know being seven and lacking an engagement was a horrible thing. That it damaged her chances of ever marrying when she grew older, if ever she was allowed to leave her work. Surely the standards were not so disparagingly different between Rinnians and Kewbellans in this matter?
"We've never been ones to live by convention, my husband and I, so we decided to look for something a little different for our little Cherl." The smile on her face was ruefully fond, eyes focused more upon memory than Irkanas. "He's such a sneaky little thing, he'll need quite a woman to keep up with him someday."
She shook herself from the grips of the past and turned her attention back to Irkanas. "And that, my dear, is where you come in."
The pronouncement hung heavy in the air between them, the lady expectant, Irkanas merely confused.
"I'm sorry m'lady," Irkanas started slowly, strangely sad at the prospect of disappointing the lady. "But I don't understand... What do I have to do with this?"
"Everything," she stated, the sparkle in her eyes just a touch dangerous. "The world is full of Rinnians and Kewbellans both and people are fools if they don't realize that. Times are changing," she leaned further forward, caught up in her speech. "It won't be long before they walk side by side again. And when that happens, I want my son to be one of the enlightened few. You, my dear, are to be his bride."
To say Irkanas was confused would be both stating the obvious and making a huge understatement. Her thoughts were thrown into chaos and her world into uproar. Rinnians and Kewbellans walking side by side? Never! So impossible was the notion she could not conjure up an image. The hatred between the two was so intense it could never be surpassed.
But her hatred towards Kewbellans had been fierce and uncontrollable that morning and after only a couple of hours she had smiled freely at the matronly housekeeper and felt remorse at disappointing this lady.
Everything in her rebelled at being nice to Kewbellans. She couldn't bear the thought of them being anything less than the monsters she'd made them out to be. But didn't that show a flaw in her view?
Maybe there was hope for them yet.
How is it that there is formatting when I hit preview entry, but no formatting when I actually save it? Twice? Play nice people, I like my double spaces.
Universe: MFFF (My Fair Freedom Fighter)
Rating: Teen
Flavors: Flavor of the Day: immiscible (not miscible; incapable of being mixed), Kumquat #2 (everyone's got to start somewhere), Dark Chocolate #6 (disillusionment)
Toppings/Extras: Whipped Cream (Irkanas is seven-ish)
Wordcount: 1,390
Warnings: fantasy world racism, child abuse
Notes: My poor tortured characters. Not sure why I decided to start categorically going through Irkanas's childhood, but this is actually scene five so far. I may polish up some of the others, we'll see.
She tried not to let the high walls of the estate bother her. She had long been surrounded by opulence, what difference did it make to her? She had been uneasy for the entirety of the ride, eyes watching the Rinnian charged with guiding their Ginidin pulled couch just as much as the passing scenery.
Despite having not left the house of her (now former) tormentors for almost two years, the town retains a sense of vague familiarity. It doesn't feel like home, but home is miles away, far beyond the town and the forest.
She banishes such traitorous thoughts, not allowing herself to think of her home that was.
They had abandoned her. Sent her to die. Sent her to suffer.
Why should she grace them with her fondness and her longing? They didn't deserve it.
Wherever she was now, it was to be her home. The ride had passed in a thick silence, them coolly flippant aside from the untoward comment the Lord had made upon their exit. Her merely surprised the "help" was allowed to ride with the masters. It wasn't often you saw Rinnians and Kiwbellans mixing in any state. Let alone the Lord and Lady of a sprawling estate and a young girl newly accustomed to a life of servitude.
They were met at the step by the Servantmaster and Housekeeper, both forewarned of the return of their employers. The driver had leapt down to assist the Lady out of the couch, but the Servantmaster beat him to it. "I presume your visit went well?" The man asked, somehow seeming to far nicer and more efficient than Irkanas had ever seen any Kiwbellan.
"It did indeed!" The Lady took her husband's elbow with a practiced ease and headed into the house, tossing instructions out behind her. "See to it that young Irkanas here get a bath and clean clothes. Have her sent up to me when she's presentable."
Irkanas was quickly and efficiently herded into the house and then into the bathtub by the housekeeper who tutted about the amount of grime in her hair and clucked at her bruises. The sharp gasp drawn from the woman when her back was bared when uncommented upon by both of them. Irkanas thought the woman a mystery, the Kiwbellan housekeeper for a Kiwbellan house (an affluent one at that), shocked by injuries that were quite commonplace in the Rinnians that served within them.
She dared not speak a word, but she wanted to tell the matronly woman that if Irkanas's scrapes and bruises bothered her, than she should see some of the other servants. Ones who had been under a Kiwbellan's employ for longer than three years. Especially the ones that had a temper. Or screamed. The Servantmaster always found something to complain about their work.
It didn't even occur to Irkanas that her new master's might not permit the beating of the staff. The fact had been bluntly stated, had permeated all of her existence, a mere fact of life. So entrenched in her hatred of all Kiwbellans, she'd never stopped to think if they all deserved the dark brush with which she painted them. But that was the way of a child, naive to the complex inter workings of the world and the character's of people.
After being scrubbed until her skin felt raw, she dressed in clothes that felt far fancier than belonged on a servant. Surely this family was not so rich that they could afford to mend such fine fabrics constantly? But it was not as if she had ever been rich, so she didn't pretend to understand how they thought or operated. Let them be foolish with there money, she wasn't about to stop them.
When the housekeeper deemed her presentable ("you'll do," she'd stated, nose wrinkled), she went to appear before the Lady of the house, as requested. The lady was twice as intimidating ensconced within her own sitting room than she had been before. And yet... And yet she exuded a warmth that felt completely at odds with her person. Specifically, the Kiwbellan features it was set in.
"Come here, child," the lady beckoned when Irkanas hovered uncertainly just inside the door.
The voice was quiet and welcoming, but firm all the same. How was it that she could be such? Irkanas complied without thinking, drawing close to the woman's side.
She smiled, tracing a hand over Irkanas's brow; her eyes turning sad when Irkanas flinched under her fingers. "Well you look nice," she said, eyes roving the girl's form. "I'm sure you'll look better with a bit of time. Some rest and food will do you and those bruises a world of good."
Irkanas dragged the sleeves of her shirt further down her arms, suddenly bashful under the lady's unwavering gaze.
"Don't worry child, we all had to start somewhere. Have a seat," she said, waving her towards the padded lounge.
Irkanas gazed at her in askance, only approaching the set after further prodding. She had never been allowed to sit on the upholstery. Always required to stand whenever she was called into the sitting room for one reason or another. There weren't luxurious such as chairs in the servant's quarters, let alone covered and padded ones.
"I thought I might explain to you what I expect of you here at Dellyeach."
She felt her shoulders tighten, straighten perhaps. Felt her fingers clutch at the soft fabric bunching in her lap. The jobs asked before of her were hard, harder than she could really do, but surely this lady, who seemed so nice, wouldn't give her tasks too hard to accomplish?
"You see, I find myself in a bit of a predicament." She paused, shifting stance gracefully, leaning forward in her seat to lock gazes with Irkanas. "My youngest son, Cherl, is the same age as you and lacks a bride."
Irkanas didn't understand all the complexity of marriage yet, but she knew enough from the whispering in the servant's quarters to know being seven and lacking an engagement was a horrible thing. That it damaged her chances of ever marrying when she grew older, if ever she was allowed to leave her work. Surely the standards were not so disparagingly different between Rinnians and Kewbellans in this matter?
"We've never been ones to live by convention, my husband and I, so we decided to look for something a little different for our little Cherl." The smile on her face was ruefully fond, eyes focused more upon memory than Irkanas. "He's such a sneaky little thing, he'll need quite a woman to keep up with him someday."
She shook herself from the grips of the past and turned her attention back to Irkanas. "And that, my dear, is where you come in."
The pronouncement hung heavy in the air between them, the lady expectant, Irkanas merely confused.
"I'm sorry m'lady," Irkanas started slowly, strangely sad at the prospect of disappointing the lady. "But I don't understand... What do I have to do with this?"
"Everything," she stated, the sparkle in her eyes just a touch dangerous. "The world is full of Rinnians and Kewbellans both and people are fools if they don't realize that. Times are changing," she leaned further forward, caught up in her speech. "It won't be long before they walk side by side again. And when that happens, I want my son to be one of the enlightened few. You, my dear, are to be his bride."
To say Irkanas was confused would be both stating the obvious and making a huge understatement. Her thoughts were thrown into chaos and her world into uproar. Rinnians and Kewbellans walking side by side? Never! So impossible was the notion she could not conjure up an image. The hatred between the two was so intense it could never be surpassed.
But her hatred towards Kewbellans had been fierce and uncontrollable that morning and after only a couple of hours she had smiled freely at the matronly housekeeper and felt remorse at disappointing this lady.
Everything in her rebelled at being nice to Kewbellans. She couldn't bear the thought of them being anything less than the monsters she'd made them out to be. But didn't that show a flaw in her view?
Maybe there was hope for them yet.
How is it that there is formatting when I hit preview entry, but no formatting when I actually save it? Twice? Play nice people, I like my double spaces.