Completed Full Silver Straitjacket II

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A city floating in the center of a lake, Ravok is a place of dark beauty, romance and culture. Behind it all though is the presence of Rhysol, God of Evil and Betrayal. The city is controlled by The Black Sun, a religious organization devoted to Rhysol. [Lore]

Full Silver Straitjacket II

Postby Evarista on September 24th, 2017, 12:06 pm

Continuation of this.


33rd of Autumn, 517 A.V.

It was a stupid thought, but it wouldn't leave Evarista's head.

The girl lounged in her armchair in front of the open window, ignoring the lonely empty wine glass on the windowsill. She didn't have to go to the temple today, and wanted to take her mind off of it. Just about anything else would be a better filler for her mind right now... but why did she have to think of this?

Long ago, she commissioned a special dress at Azure Reflections, telling the proprietor to wait for a cloth supply from her. Too many things happened afterwards, and the delivery was never sent.

She still wanted to see what the dress would look like. Even if the intended wearer was no longer around, she just wanted to see what a dress made from her special silk delivery would look like. Maybe just throw it away afterwards. Or even better - burn it up. Art is a bang, as she's heard a visiting minstrel say once.

Now that she thought about it, however, maybe it was a good thing that she never got around to making the delivery until now. The original reason for the delay was her lack of skill. At that time, she could only spin thread, and while she had brought a sample to a weaver to get it woven into cloth, that plan never got off the ground. She had almost despaired ever seeing a garment made with her silk and largely abandoned the idea since then.

Looking at this today showed an entirely different picture. Today, she knew how to make "cloth" without relying on a weaver. Just spin it, roll it and go. No weaving needed. Taking a deep breath and rising from the chair, Evarista decided to just that, right now, before her sloth got the better of her as it so often did.

Hiking up her sleeves above the elbows, Evarista pressed her forearms together in front of her and set her recently discovered technique in motion. In one forearm, she generated a single oblong spinneret - one that would produce not a string, but an entire sheet of silk at once. On the other forearm went a wide, short and flat vice, corresponding in dimensions to the opposing spinneret and fitting into it like a tab into a slot. The silk was going to be of the bioluminescent variety, but she omitted the greenish pigment. That meant the material would have a pure white glow. Hopefully.

Evarista licked her lips tensely, watching the skin on her forearms bulge as the growing silk gland displaced the muscle underneath. Disfiguring herself while standing around in awkward poses has become such a customary practice that she wasn't bothered by it any more. Taking goofy forms in the solitude of her room or up on the rooftops was, if anything, a form of escapism at this point. It made her feel pleasurably detached from the rest of the world and the laws that governed it.

Once her arm was mildly bloated with unspun silk, she closed the vice she had made on her other arm, feeling it clamp around the viscous liquid firmly. Just as she did when spinning threads; the only difference now was that she was about to add extra dimension to the thread. Now, the moment of truth...!

Her mechanism made an uncanny tearing noise as she forced her arms apart with all her strength. Her vision became obscured by rippling white, a glossy sea filling her nostrils with the familiar, warm aroma. Where did she know that smell from? It was herself. The scent of her own skin right after a hot bath. Did all her silk smell this way? It was natural, now that she thought about it. This was a part of herself like any other, even after it detached from the rest of her body.

Extending her lower jaw into sensitive mandibles, she prodded the white sheet to check it for solidity. Still slightly moist and very elastic, but definitely solid. Just as when she made her wings once. Yes, this would do. Returning her attention to the spinning mechanism, she continued expanding her arms forcefully, swivelling her elbows and shoulders at unnatural angles to continue pulling and shearing, making her grunt from the strain.

"Grrrgh!"

No longer able to keep track of how much she was spinning, only the tearing noises told her that the sheet was growing longer. When her arms ran out of space to bend, Evarista lowered them and flopped down onto the armchair behind her, panting heavily and trying to calm her twitching muscles. On her knees was a pile of solid, freshly spun silk, its organic warmth seeping through her skirt and touching her legs. But this material was not cloth. It was all a single, unnaturally massive fiber.

It didn't glow, because it was daytime, but it would definitely light up in the evening. Through whatever mysterious means, the firefly's light could follow the rhythm of day and night. The glow wouldn't be infinite, though. It would need food. This silk was a living being, with its own functions and metabolism. Without a doubt, it was her most formidable creation yet.

Having calmed her heart rate and rested for a little while, Evarista carefully rolled her product into a bolt and stumbled out of the door, hugging it close. The invasive pang of hunger from the sudden escape of proteins told her to stop by the pantry, but she endured it and rushed right out of the main entrance with determination. Her destination was all she could think about.

***

Spurred by impatience, Evarista walked with her widest gait, her head lost in the clouds. She roughly bumped shoulders with someone when turning a corner, but didn't even turn her head to check who it was, simply enduring the pain and clutching the silk bolt closer to her chest. When the door to Azure Reflections appeared in front of her, she rammed it open with her already sore shoulder without slowing down. Alira had better be in.

To her relief, the redhead was behind the counter, in the middle of a wildly animated lecture to her pouty-looking kelvic slave. Both their heads turned towards the unceremonious intrusion, but before either of them could say anything, the dishevelled-looking visitor flopped her baggage on the counter in front of them. Panting slightly and not even offering a greeting, she went straight to business in her normal breathy tone.

"This... the commission from last year..." She looked straight at Alira and pointed at the silk impatiently. Since she didn't mentally prepare for the conversation, which was a necessity for her, she visibly struggled to be coherent and continued dropping whatever disorganized words came to mind in hopes that the seamstress would catch on.

After a chime of confused back-and-forth, Evarista managed to calm down and Alira finally understood what this was about. Picking up the silk curiously, the proprietress began examining it with an expert's eye.

Meanwhile, Evarista pointed a finger at the still-confused Azure.

"Bring me water," she demanded sharply.

The kelvic was about to protest her tone, but then rolled his eyes and shuffled off to do as her was told. It was useless to argue with this one.

Evarista's attention was stolen by Alira's bewildered voice.

"This is... what is this? Where did you get it?" The woman prodded and stretched the alien material, her brow deeply furrowed. Deeming herself knowledgeable about pretty much every textile under the sun, she was understandably startled to be presented with something she couldn't even begin to make sense of.

"It's silk," Evarista answered simply. The skepticism on Alira's face forced her to add, "Special... silk."

"Soak it in... hmm... milk, or a sugar solution, and it'll glow in the dark," she continued absent-mindedly.

The redhead's eyes were as wide as saucers by now. Did she hear that right? Soak it in milk, she said?

Alira began to recall the details of that evening. The smug smirk on Evarista's face back then as she announced she would be supplying her own materials, and Alira's own prophetic prediction that it was going to be something weird.

The prolific seamstress had many eccentric customers that she enjoyed, and sometimes dreaded, being surprised by.

But the still mildly disoriented-looking Nitrozian in front of her wasn't just "eccentric". She was stark, raving mad.
Last edited by Evarista on May 3rd, 2018, 7:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Full Silver Straitjacket II

Postby Hwyn on September 29th, 2017, 9:37 am

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Full Silver Straitjacket II


It was dyed red… the once white cloth, the once pale skin, the once silvery needle. Red, though perhaps it was his own fault… no… it was certainly his own fault. She’d shown him how to do it, even given him needle and cloth to practice with, yet he’d pricked his supple fingers enough times that he’d lost count, each prick drawing a small bead of crimson from his flesh. It hurt but he was used to pain, he wanted to learn so was unable to complain. It was only two strips of cloth to sew together, and yet it was slow and painful just trying to space the in and outs of the needle was hard and slow. Sighing Hwyn furrowed his brow as he focused in on his work, he had asked to be taught to sew, if this was the price so be it.

He didn’t know how long he’d been at it though the one time Alira checked on him he noticed her haughty disapproval, though he could understand the sentiment. Sewing was much harder work than he’d given credit to it being. Either way he was stubborn enough that he wasn’t going to give up. Learning where to place the needle and the right force to push it through the fabric with was tedious along with being painful.

Losing track of time as the morning waxed he slowly improved as the red pigment he stained the cloth with began to be less common as he slowly got used to placing the needle, though any time he felt he was getting better he rewarded himself with another accidental prick. He was interrupted however by a familiar voice… but… hadn’t she been taken by the Stryfe? A voice owned by a person he thought missing made his way to his ears, but he aired to caution. His heart thumping in his throat as he expected the worst, but hoped for the best. Creeping out from the back of the shop towards the commotion he heard he peeked out from behind a large rack of clothing curious to see who it was that the familiar voice belonged to.

When he saw her he froze, his master… Evarista Nitrozean, the lady who’d branded him, given him a home, kidnapped him, and given him purpose. Unsure of what to do he just stood silently peering at the action ahead of him, he’d missed her right? When he’d first arrived at the orphanage he’d prayed for her safety. Yet know that she was before him he didn’t know what to feel, relief, fear, happiness, nothing? His chest felt uncomfortably tight, as if the corset about his waist was now about his heart.


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Full Silver Straitjacket II

Postby Evarista on October 11th, 2017, 6:08 pm

Having mostly given up on her haphazard explanation attempt, Evarista looked away from the shopkeeper, instead focusing on calming down her mind and breathing. Everything would be much easier after she got some time to come up with coherent words.

When something moved in the corner of her vision, she was about to ignore it, which was her standard reaction to everything. However, a ping in her mind made her pause. The sense of having seen something that couldn't be ignored. Something that shouldn't have been there. A manifestation of her own thoughts in her eyes; something she maybe wanted to see, but something that wasn't part of reality. A familiar mop of blonde hair.

The redhead behind the counter began saying something in an upset tone, apparently having recovered from the initial shock of the encounter, but none of it registered to Evarista. Everything - the shopkeeper, the clothing racks, the floor and the ceiling - everything faded away, leaving only those eyes, looking at her from where they shouldn't. Being where they shouldn't be. She stared back, her own cloudy mirrors squinting painfully, doubting themselves. Her expression remained unchanging, but a single bead of sweat slowly formed on her forehead. Was she seeing a ghost?

They stared at each other for a few moments, oblivious to Alira's staccato in the background. Without thinking, Evarista strode towards the object of her concern without breaking eye contact. The hands that reached towards him were shaking slightly, as if fearing, or hoping, to grasp only air. When her fingers sunk into very tangible flesh, she felt something akin to electricity running through her body. She was gripping Hwyn's shoulders with convulsive force, as if expecting her hands to phase through him at any time. Still, even as her knuckles turned white with pressure, the boy didn't disappear.

Evarista exhaled with a long, loud wheeze, only now realizing she had been holding her breath this whole time. Looking down at her shoes for a moment, she withdrew her hands and hung them at her sides awkwardly. Looking up to meet his eyes again, she was at a loss of what to do or what to say.

"This is..." she mumbled, but had nothing to finish the sentence with. Clearing her throat quietly, she went for a second try.

"What is this?" she asked more demandingly, turning her body halfway towards Alira while her eyes were still fixated on Hwyn. She was somehow worried that he'd disappear if she looked away for even a second.

The shopkeeper, initially angry that her monologue about Evarista's insane cloth ideas got interrupted, immediately picked up the almost pained strain in the other woman's voice. She understood that something was wrong, but she couldn't quite understand what. Evarista didn't exactly explain her problem.

"What do you mean? Hwyn? He's on an apprenticeship from the Commorancy. I thought you released him. How else would he end up there?"

The seamstress noticed how the corner of Evarista's lip twitched unnaturally at the word "released". Oh. So this was more complicated than that, then.

Evarista's thin lips cracked open slightly, revealing a row of tightly clenched teeth. Her brows furrowed and a dark fire flashed through the fog of her eyes for a moment.

"I haven't... released... anyone."

The near-growling force behind every word left no room for argument, and Alira would be given no time to make one, in any case. Evarista's clammy hand closed firmly around Hwyn's wrist, pulling him towards the exit. Her face lost its expression again, and her voice was already back to is normal drone, as if nothing strange had happened.

"We're going home."

In a few large strides, she was at the door, dragging the boy behind her. Her other hands began pushing the door open, but then she paused and turned her head to Alira, casting the redhead a sideways glance.

"Start making the dress."

Without waiting for acknowledgement, the rude aristocrat swatted the door out of the way and vanished, her billowing black mane and Hwyn in tow.

After the door clicked closed, the shop was silent for a good while. Alira hesitated to long to decide whether to follow them, so by the time she made up her mind to do so, it was too late. The befuddled seamstress scratched the back of her head slowly, staring down at the weird material that the appropriately weird visitor had left behind.

Azure emerged from the back-room door, carrying a tray with a glass of water on it. Looking around a few times and finding the shop devoid of visitors, his grumpy face brightened.

"Oh, great! Did Crazy go home? Not a moment too soon, I say."

Alira walked around the counter, took the glass from Azure's tray and downed it in one gulp. The kelvic looked at her worriedly.

"Something the matter?"

"...no, not really. Don't worry about it."

"If you say so," the kelvic replied somewhat sceptically.

This whole ordeal seemed awfully complicated. Alira liked Hwyn, but not enough to get into a legal battle against the Nitrozian estate over him. She'd report this to the Commorancy, but what happened after that was out of her hands. Hopefully.

***

Meanwhile, on the wide walkways of the Noble District, Evarista walked as fast as her long legs allowed her. Even as she got out of breath and her pulse began to rise, she didn't slow down. She didn't let go.
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Full Silver Straitjacket II

Postby Hwyn on December 20th, 2017, 12:05 pm

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Full Silver Straitjacket II


Eva….
Evarista…
Miss Evarista Nitrozean…
He’d been told she didn’t want him anymore… that had been the case right? The fact that he’d ended up away from the manor was all the evidence he’d needed. But here he was being dragged away by her, her clammy hand like a vice around his small wrist. Perhaps he should be scared but for some reason he was unable to fathom his own current emotions, they had become an amalgamation of disoriented sensations.

She was pulling him home… it was home right? Wherever she was taking him, he couldn’t think of it as anything other than home… the commerancy hadn’t become home even if he’d liked some of the people there. But Eva’s room, the estate that was home right? Or maybe it was to become something darker, what if Eva wasn’t happy to see him at all, and he was being dragged to hid doom? It only took him a moment to decide it didn’t matter, if anyone was going to end his existence he was happy it was the person who’d given him a purpose. Following her dutifully he hoped that this was a good thing in store for him not so nebulous dark end.

“They told me…. That you’d gotten rid of me….”

Fear, elation, comfort, familiarity, concern, his heart raged with a gestalt of emotions but above all else he was succumbing to one thought, this was where he belonged, he’d take whatever came next happily simply because he’d been missing it for so long he’d gone numb to the loneliness that had clouded his heart. Now here he was going home. The scene in the shop had been surreal, he hadn’t known what to do, He’d frozen thinking his prior mistress wouldn’t want to see him considering that she’d been the one to give him away, she had right? She’d never given him any indication that she couldn’t just get rid of him on a whim, no indication that she actually considered him essential to her. However this moment spoke very much to the opposite of that, this moment had him frozen as the grim reality he’d accepted had begun to unwind itself, it hurt, the scars reopening and fresh sensations welling out of the wounds, but he’d take this visceral sensation over anything else at the moment. He followed her looking for anything to say but when words failed he just grimaced and accepted that a moment like this didn’t need unnecessary words her hand around his wrist was his anchor to this new reality. Turning his hand upward he wrapped his small fingers around his masters own wrist and enjoyed the reassuring moment that she was just as real as she had been the day they’d met.


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Full Silver Straitjacket II

Postby Evarista on December 21st, 2017, 11:40 am

Evarista's heart raced wildly, now more from the rushed walk than from any emotion, but the route home was mercifully short. Without looking back at him, she confirmed his presence behind her only by the warmth of his skin. He told her how "they" explained his separation from her. Without turning around, she half-whispered in her usual monotone, just loud enough for him to hear.

"They lied."

The artful buildings of the Nitrozian estate soon came into view, but Evarista walked straight past the front entrance, instead taking a turn into the alley between the blooded and non-blooded manors where no one ever went. In this dead-end claustrophobic crevice, she finally stopped, taking a moment to catch her breath.

She turned around to face her follower, but not for conversation. From underneath her blouse sprung many striped legs, wrapping around the boy's torso and pulling him into an uncomfortably tight embrace. The sense of gravity momentarily left them as Evarista's feet left the ground and found hold on the mossy wall. She knew this wall like the back of her hand and climbed it with alarming speed, talons easily finding familiar irregularities in the masonry. Strangely, her firmly held passenger seemed to weight nothing at all.

After what seemed like just a few ticks of ascent, the wall ended. Leaving the confines of the alley, they found themselves underneath the open sky. Swinging herself over the roof ledge, the climber let go of her burden, dropping him on the windswept slate carelessly.

Evarista seldom went to the roof during daytime, since the rays of sunlight made her feel uncomfortably exposed to the gazes of some unseen eyes. But ever since she lost faith in the sanctity of her room, she found herself seeking privacy on the rooftop more and more.

Looking at the boy from underneath half-closed eyelids, she suddenly remembered that it was not the first time she had carried him here. The unwilling recollection sent a shiver up her spine, and she averted her eyes.

Pushing the unwelcome thoughts out of her mind, she wandered slowly towards the chimney, and sat down at her favorite spot, leaning against the brickwork and letting out a deep breath of contentment. While the cold and rough slate looked decidedly bad to sit on, the girl looked uncannily comfortable, as if gracing the throne of her own strange kingdom. She made a small gesture to the empty slate tile in front of her, as if offering the boy a seat at a banquet.

After a short pause, she made a wider gesture with her hand, as if trying to encompass some large thing in the air.

"Tell me."

The draft up here was noticeable, constantly adjusting the edges of Evarista's hair as she sat unmoving and stared at him patiently.
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Full Silver Straitjacket II

Postby Hwyn on April 18th, 2018, 11:15 pm

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“tell me”

The request was nebulous at best but he understood the meaning, what had happened where had he been and so much more. Perhaps he should start from the beginning, draining the emotions he felt from himself he took a deep breath he knew that if he allowed himself any emotions then he would break down and he wasn’t sure if he could handle that at the moment.

“Miss Eva. It began with the night… or day I was abducted I suppose. I woke up in a basement, and I was questioned for some time, asked about my abilities my eyes, my history, everything about me, as if they wanted to know my worth. Later it was shown that I was under a house arrest of sorts, in the Gelatos orphanage. I don’t know for how long I was there, time was… long. But they told me I needed to learn and to get a job and all manner of things, however whenever I inquired after you I was told the Nitrozeans no longer saw fit to have me, and that if I wanted to live I had best learn to be a functional member of society. After some time they began having me work at Azure reflections, I believe I was only there for a few weeks, and now you’re here. Of course, other things happened, the orphanage I think has ghosts and I think they do horrible things to people in its basement. Sometimes the children go missing. That’s most of what I know, the Gelatos are a very strange people. That is all Miss Eva, if there is anything else I can tell you just ask and I will do my best to answer you.”

Unable to bare Eva’s stare for much longer he looked out over the town from the scenic view the roof offered, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the fresh air that the height of the manor offered taking a moment to simply breath in and sort out his emotions. Letting out a shaky breath he could feel suppressed tears welling in his eyes. His fists clenched as he tried to contain all the things he was feeling. He was hurt, that she’d never looked for him, happy that they were together again, scared that they’d try to take him away again his composure simply couldn’t be held any longer as his face broke into a tearful mask of agony. Perhaps it looked like he was about to lash out or burst into tears but he had enough control to not do either of those things.

Rapidly crossing the distance between them Hwyn nearly dived into the woman. Wrapping arms around her as he pressed his face into her stomach.

“Evaaaa, I’m sooo g-glad you aren’t gone, I-i-i-i-I missed you so so so much” Letting out muffled words into his masters blouse he was sure he was getting it wet with tears he rarely lost his composure but after so much time of holding all of himself in to never show fear or weakness he could no longer contain it, like a dam attempting to hold back all the rain in the sky it would eventually burst and when it did there was no way to avoid collateral.


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Last edited by Hwyn on April 25th, 2018, 8:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Full Silver Straitjacket II

Postby Evarista on April 22nd, 2018, 9:22 pm

"Your worth, huh."

The way he described the Galatos orphanage, it didn't seem much different than the children's version of the Temple. Dark and stuffy? Check. Torture chamber in the basement? Check. Probably haunted? It all matches. The temple and the orphanage were obviously built and kept by the same people: the Black Sun. It was never a secret that Rhysol's chosen ran many unpleasant places, but it was also clearly pointed out that's where they put the bad guys. Heretical rebels, Syliran infiltrators and such. Not transparently patriotic Big Five family members and their rightful slaves. The priests were liars, and more importantly, they were not her allies.

The crack in Evarista's trust towards the supposedly benevolent divine agents ran deeper and deeper, and with the crack grew the knot in her stomach. A looming sense of unease, as if the city walls and battlements that once made you feel safe suddenly turned inside out, and the firing slits were now facing towards you. Glancing at the tall domes of the temple in the distance, she asked herself idly: which was it again? Did Ravok have the Black Sun, or did the Black Sun have Ravok?

Her sinister thoughts dispersed in an instant when the short figure in the corner of her vision suddenly charged in for a tackle, almost knocking the wind out of her. Startled, she tried to push the unexpected invader away reflexively, but he was on too tight. The familiar blonde mop, along with his familiar smell, somehow made her relax. She wasn't sure if she could recognize his smell due to senses being messed up from morphing, or just because it was so familiar. Either way, in a city where the battlements faced inwards, it had a touch of earnest warmth.

Distracted by it, Evarista idly gathered a handful of the coarse blonde hair on his neck, brought it to her face, and inhaled deeply. It felt like an uncomfortable nag in the back of her mind vanished, replaced by peace. No, he definitely wasn't a ghost. Really should change his shampoo, though. The sludge they evidently issued at that dingy orphanage was not something she wanted to smell in her room every morning from now on.

Clutching the fistful of the boy's hair possessively, she glanced at the temple silhouette again. The massive building wasn't visible from any window at the estate, but very clearly so from the roof, as if directly taunting the only roof-goer around. No matter. If anyone tried to take away her things again, she wouldn't fold and play along. She'd kill them all, eat their guts, bathe in their blood and make trophies from their skulls. There was no anger or vengefulness behind those thoughts; it was merely an observation.

Looking away from the temple and closing her eyes, the young heiress inhaled deeply and let the air flow out slowly. Something was liberated. Unchained.

Evarista took the boy by the chin and raised his head, staring into his prismatic eyes with her indecipherable gaze. Her cold finger wiped a tear from his cheek, then idly drifted towards her lips. The salty taste had a strange appeal. Somehow it made her mouth water.

"Go and get changed. It's dinner soon."
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Full Silver Straitjacket II

Postby Hwyn on April 25th, 2018, 2:31 am

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When he heard her command he felt deep inside that things were going to be alright. Not forever perhaps but for the moment stability felt like it had returned. Standing up and giving Eva a sharp bow he smiled. He was home.

“yes Ma’m”

Looking over the edge he quickly realized that he would need a hand getting down, at least he would like one, climbing down was not the most appealing idea. However, the fact that he needed help getting down drew attention to how he’d gotten up here in the first place. Perhaps he’d grown so used to Eva’s abilities that he didn’t really consider them when she used them around him. She’d gotten stronger while he’d wasted away. He’d need to get stronger.

“m-miss Eva, if you wouldn’t mind… c-could you help me back down..”

Assuming she did Hwyn would allow scamper off to his room. Arriving there he would look about before finding his room and meager wardrobe untouched. Picking up his maid garb and pressing his nose into it and inhaling it’s starched scent tinted with the smell of wines that so much time in eva’s presence had tainted it with. All together it smelled like home. Stripping down and looking at the pile of ratty clothes the orphanage had allowed him he briefly contemplated asking Eva if he could burn them, perhaps later.

Pulling on the fine silky garments that he’d always worn in the Manor was rapture. The soft material hugging his skin made him giddy every sensation bringing back memories of his time here, for better or worse this place was where he wanted to be. Briefly glancing at the brand on his chest he frowned. There had been a time when he felt a fair bit of disdain for the mark, but as it was, it had become the closest thing to security he had. Pulling the dress over himself and tying his apron he grinned, it felt good to be wearing this again. Lastly he combed his hair quickly and placed his headband gingerly on his head once more. He was complete once more. With that taken care of he ran back to Eva’s room ready for whatever it was she needed of him. He didn’t know what the rest of the household would think of his sudden return and frankly, he didn’t care. He was, for all intents and purposes, home. That fact reverberated through him as he returned to Eva’s abode. Her room was in worse repair than he’d seen it in a long while, his absence evident in that at least.

“Miss Eva, is their anything I can do for you?”

Casting a glance at his violin in the corner he wondered of she’d have him play for her again or if she had another agenda for him, whatever it was she would ask of him, he was content to oblige.
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Full Silver Straitjacket II

Postby Evarista on April 30th, 2018, 5:51 pm

After tying some silk to the roof parapet and winching them both down to her window, Evarista saw Hwyn disappear into the corridors of the manor. Even though she was alone again, the atmosphere had changed. The room felt less empty.

Suddenly feeling drained, the heiress threw herself on her fancy bed face-down. She recalled the cloth she had turned in to the seamstress. Maybe if she didn't get that whim, she and Hwyn would never have met again. Gut feeling was a powerful thing.

The blonde maid was back before she could gather her thoughts, dressed for work. Evarista rose from the bed and flopped over onto the armchair in front of the window, mercifully close by.

First things first.

"Comb my hair," she ordered, spreading out her voluminous mane behind her with a swipe of her hands. "...and clean this place up."

There was a time when she would have been perfectly content with Bryony's minimalistic caretaking. It wasn't until she lost it that she realized how good it was to have a personal slave's undivided attention. When Hwyn vanished, the condition of both her room declined noticeably. There were splinters of broken bottles on the floor, stains a little all over the place, discarded laundry on the bookshelves, and other signs of degradation. In the corner of the window and a part of the wall there was some kind dried, faintly glowing green ooze splattered in mysterious patterns. There were traces of failed attempts to scrub it off, but apparently Bryony simply didn't have the time to finish the job.

The decline was evident not only in Evarista's room, but also on her person. Her clothes were wrinkled, her fingernails were long and dirty, and her hair was a bird's nest. Since she started getting out more, her maintenance needs increased a lot, and it took someone constantly tidying up both her and everything around her to keep some facade of decency. That someone could only be Hwyn. There was no one else. Bryony couldn't do it, and Evarista herself couldn't either.

After he was done combing, the resident mess-maker rose from the armchair, picked up the empty wine glass from the windowsill where it waited since morning, and poured herself some red nectar at the desk. It no longer felt like she was wearing a bundle of copper wire on her head, and one less irritant made the wine taste better. Removing those small everyday irritants before drinking, she thought, made the difference between feeling like you're drowning your problems and feeling like you're celebrating a small success.

Leaving the again-emptied glass, the satisfied heiress flopped back onto bed, planting her face into the pillow with a satisfied huff. Her freshly arranged black hair cascaded harmoniously around her. Turning her head slightly, she peeked at him busying himself around the room. It was relaxing to watch someone work, to the point that it began lulling her.

"Hmmn... play something," she mumbled into the pillow. The late afternoon breeze blew into the open window, rearranging her hair around the bed idly. Very slowly, she began drifting off to a pleasant sleep, dreaming of cruising a sea of wine with a certain blonde servant struggling at the oars.
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Evarista
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Full Silver Straitjacket II

Postby Hwyn on May 2nd, 2018, 2:18 am

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Full Silver Straitjacket II



“Comb my hair”

It was a simple command, but it was layered with meaning, or at least it was for Hwyn. That was one of Eva’s first ever requests of him back when he’d first come here. Something he’d done often after that, but until recently he was unsure if he’d ever have a chance to do so again. Being given the opportunity to be here once again as if he’d never been gone was a pleasure he was quite proud of.
“Yes Miss Eva”

Once more before ever bringing the comb forth he began the arduous task of pulling the easiest tangles out of Eva’s hair and straightening it. It felt as if she hadn’t paid her hair any heed in some weeks and the process of easing her distressed tangles out was time consuming, though he was content with each moment of doing so. Humming gently to himself as he watched the sun set over her shoulder as he worked. After some time he was finally able to bring the comb forth and with it’s help revive the silky sheen Eva’s hair ought to have.

When at last he was finished Eva made her way to her bed, exhaustion evident on her countenance. When she asked him to play he smiled. If there was one thing he’d done in his time away, that he could take a minor amount of pride in was that his music had improved somewhat. He faltered less when he played and his notes were true as long as he did not rush himself.

Pulling out a long somber note he played a Song in minor key, a somber tune with many a long refrain as he looked out over the city playing a song that suited the dark times that had consumed Ravok, though as he worked its way towards the end of the song he began to shift into lighter notes. The wind had brought with it change. He was united with Eva once more and that was enough for him. He did not know what they would do or accomplish but he sensed more change was to come, he didn’t know if those that had taken him and Eva would return but if they held the intent to he needed to be ready for whatever it was that lay before them.

Looking towards Eva he wondered if she’d truly fallen asleep or if she was just relaxed. Unsure of which it was he decided it didn’t matter. He was simply content to be in this room once more. Sitting down in her chair he looked out the window towards the now darkening sky and smiled softly. He was home, and that was enough for him for the moment. Letting his eyes close he listened to the sound of Eva breathing. If no commands followed for some time he would allow sleep to overtake him as he played sentinel once again. Content to stay by her side so long as she would have him.


Credit to Shimoje, the bestest buddy
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