Sacrificed During a Violet Moon
Rating: AU, Yaoi, in the beginning it is rated pg13, rated R later, servitude, seducing of the obscured devil and a sacrifice for power. So if you don't agree with these terms then I don't know why the hell you're here. Ok have fun.
Warning: If you don't know by now listen carefully: Men with Men…having sex or liking/loving the same sex!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the character's or their personality's (all though I could play a good Duo) any way, you've heard it all so I'll just fast forward. Bla…bla…bla, bla, bla, blabber, blue…beluga. Ok you all get it. NO suing, have no money, saving every penny for the anime convention and birthday's. Not worth your time.
Chap 10: Apprentice Varelet
My head hurt, my ears were ringing and a burning throb was running rampant through my bones. Yes, I was still capable of whining…I think. It felt as if I had been run over by a large…something…the sun maybe? Someone help, I wished quietly not sure if I had spoken out loud or not.
Groaning, I pushed up on my arms, regretting the decision as bile rose to the back of my throat, sour and unpleasant. Then a pair of hard hands gripped me, and slowly turned me over. I blinked my eyes slowly against the bright sun above me but then something blocked my annoyance and I sighed happily.
"No, keep your eyes open." The command was harsh, and the voice was faint and wispy. That of a person who was deep in their age and their liquor. "I said keep 'em open boy." Groaning I did as asked, not sure who it was above me…or anything else for that matter. "I guess we can profit from this. Your clumsiness has finally paid off. Now stay put 'n keep your eyes open. I don't want you going to sleep."
I did as the voice asked, although it was difficult to do so. Every time I blinked away tears that the bright sun above me was creating in my eyes I let them stay closed a little longer each time before I remembered the terse voices warning. Something in my head told me that if I had a concussion it would be in my best interest to stay awake. What a concussion was I didn't know but I followed the thought none the less.
"Father, what have you done?" A girl's voice shrieked, ringing sorely in my ears. Hands were then touching my face, softer and without many calluses then the others had. "Are you alright?
"I don't know." I whispered, yelping as the girl hauled me into a sitting position. The world flipped on me, and I knew I was going to be violently ill. "Don't do that…" I turned away from her and heaved my stomach contents. Afterwards, I could still feel the girl behind me, rubbing a hand over my back and holding my hair out of the way…a little too harshly if you asked me.
"I'm sorry, it's ok. Bring me some water Fabian!" The girl yelled. Fabian, what kind of name is that? Then I heard the other arguing in the background.
"What do you mean I have to pay? Your boy was in the way. It was his own fault!" The voice was male and angry, nothing at all someone I'd want to stand up against.
"I don't care what you think. Do you know who I am…? If you did you wouldn't fight 'de inevitable. You hit my apprentice you crazy idiot of a man. If you don't pay I'll take this matter to 'de king and who do you think he'll believe? You a simple farming idiot or I Señore John Deŕorock."
"Señore John Deŕorock? 'De Señore John Deŕorock 'de painter?" The voice was much quieter then before now. "Why, of course I'll pay Señore. I don't have much but I can give you what I have 'ear. It's about a pound sir."
"Fine, that will have to do I guess. You will supply bandages and water for my apprentice. We have none with us." With that the conversation ended and a pair of heavy footsteps neared. "Get off 'de ground boy. Ya'll be fine after your bandaged."
"Leave 'm alone. 'E is in no state to just get up and walk around ya fool. I don't care if your some great painter or not. This boy will stay right where 'e is until I've seen that 'e is in no way harmed permanently."
Finally, my eyes seemed back to normal and what greeted my bleary sight was a pile of what appeared to be slimy and bubbly pieces of food. Groaning I turned away from the vile smell and sight right into a glass of water. "Drink slowly." I wanted to disagree but kept silent as I drank the cool water, washing away the horrid taste. "Na na, no more now. Ye'll get sick again."
"I don't care." I mumbled, looking up into the girls face. She looked familiar. Like I had seen her before. Her short black hair was cut boyishly and her simple face had a small grin.
"What's yer name?" She asked. I opened my mouth but stopped. I didn't know. Nothing came to mind. Not one name.
"I can't remember?" I said, looking over at the other person now kneeling beside me. He was old, wrinkled and not at all friendly looking. In his wrinkled hand he held a small bag, which jingled when he placed it in his shirt.
"What do you mean boy? You know your name."
"No, I don't…I don't know you either. So if you could please tell me I'd appreciate it." The old man blinked, rocking back on his heels slightly.
"I think your old man should pay twice as more girly…" the girl next to me glanced over, glaring at the old man whose eyes were closed in thought. "Your idiot father not only hit my apprentice with that godforsaken cart but hit him so hard his brains turned to mush! What good is an idiot apprentice to me? And what is with the way you talk? Strange happenings today…strange luck we've run into, that's what I think," he mused, hand running through his straggly beard.
"I'm not an idiot." No one calls me an idiot. I can decide that fact for myself. "And another thing. I think 'you' should apologize to this girl for your own foolishness. Ya greedy bastard." I don't know what came over me then. I was in a severe amount of pain (so that probably had something to do with it) in a place I had no clue about, a memory completely wiped out and strange people talking funny. Their dialect was old, almost lazy as they conversed around me. "Does anyone have aspirin?"
"If you talk back to me in that way boy…maybe your not completely gone then…hm…I was hoping to get more for it. Oh well. Get your self up. We're already late for our appointment." He stood up, brushing off his trousers with a spindly hand. "And what is ass…prin?"
The girl helped me up, but I knocked her hands away. I didn't like feeling like an invalid. "You know…um…I don't exactly know? Wait…I still don't know what's going on. Who the hell are you people?"
It was the girl who answered me then, even though I was looking at the old man. He even seemed enraged that he was interrupted. "Now, let me explain. My father…a fool, I agree…but my father none the less, let the cart get away from him. That's all. You stopped in the road and picked something up, that's when it hit ya. It was not intentional the way your master thinks it is."
"Oh, and if your father had not let that monstrosity of a moldy cart get away from him in the first place we wouldn't be arguing with an idiot child! Now get up boy!" he walked away, towards what appeared to be a set of horses. One a muddy brown and the other a deep gray.
"Fine, let the old coot have his way. Up ya get." She grabbed my arms again and as gently as possible pulled me up, ignoring my protests. Then, guiding me along by the hand, she took me over to where her father was and sat me down on a stump. "Stay there for one second while I get some bandages. You got a couple nasty scrapes, and I'm sure ye'll bruise, but then you can tell the ladies at court you got them fighting a bear in the wilds. That would sure get my attention." She winked and walked to a cart, whose wheels were strewn all along the gravel path.
Left alone, my eyes wandered. I was on dirt strewn path, littered here and there with pebbles and weeds. Fields of something wispy and yellow surrounded us. A few trees dotted the area in all directions and a forest was further in the distance surrounding us and the field in one large circle. And just barely in the distance, I could see a rather large stone manor, situated high up on a hill surrounded by those same trees. "Where am I?"
"You're near Telford. And that in the distance is Lowe Manor. They call it a manor but it's really a castle, or is the other way around? The name is supposed to make us believe they're the same as us. But we're not stupid…just poor." She paused, looking towards the manor with an unusual look upon her dirt smudged face. "Not that saying Manor is a much better word for it." The girl, juggling a role of cloth and small bucket of water, got to work, unrolling the length of gauze and taking a dingy white cloth from the bucket. "Its not hot water but it will have to do."
A few minutes later I was glad the torture session was done with. The girls gentle demeanor was nothing compared to her touch…it was brutal. I found out that not only was there a fairly large gash on my forehead but multiple cuts and scrapes from the loose pebbles and rocks buried in the ground as well as one monster of a bruise on my ribs. I felt like I had been run over…and lucky me I didn't have to ask for the license plate number because said vehicle was currently overturned onto the side of the road.
I paused, looking down to the ground as if asking the tiny bits of dirt and sand what a 'license plate number' was. But it didn't know. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." I stood shakily, hand automatically going to my forehead. "My ribs really hurt."
"Yeah, I know, I don't think they're broken but you may want to talk to the doctor at the manor. They can help you more then I can with internal injuries. Ya know, you talk funny. Are ya from around here?"
"Boy, get a move on it! Your dilly dallying will be subtracted from your pay!" The old man was situated on top of the muddy brown horse, its head tossing back and forth in irritation. I guess he wasn't very happy with his rider either, or they were made for each other. You know what they say about dogs and their masters?
"Why does he keep calling me that? Is boy my name?"
"I don't think so…" she shrugged and bid me farewell. "And if you're ever in the area again, ya come to Telford square and ask for Hilda Peppercorn. I'm sure someone will be able to give ya some directions back to me."
Let's just say that after that moment my time spent with the old man and the two horses went by rather slowly and painfully. The entire way I let him ramble on about how much money I had cost him…forgetting that he practically swindled more then enough from those innocent people. I also had time to learn his name properly, Señore John Deŕorock or master to me. Strange name I think. Anyway, he was a master painter sought after by all that knew his work or those who boasted of it. But the one thing I found the most fascinating was my name. Or what the Señore finally called me besides boy. Varelet…
It sounded familiar…almost comforting. I knew then that it had to be my name. If it wasn't I know I would feel uncomfortable using it. But I could gladly call myself Varelet. And I was his apprentice…I'd been with him since I had been a small child, learning his ways and creating my own. The Señore even grudgingly admitted I was his best find. I felt pride in his words. So I had accomplished something, I thought. So I was something more then…then what? Again the holes in my memory resurfaced and quieted my self gratitude. How could I not know who I was? How could I have such a hole inside of me? It wasn't fair that I knew some things while not knowing others. I was in a strange world…with a strange name and a strange man. I knew not whether anything was true or false. If I was playing a fabricated lie…or if this was real and I was the lie.
I questioned the Señore but all he could do was laugh. He said my memory would return in time but that if it had hindered my painting I would pay dearly. He seemed harsh, my master, but there was something in his eyes when he looked over at me when I asked my name. Guilt maybe…or grief? It was hard to tell, he didn't show them too willingly.
The land passed by us in a distorted haziness. Fields of wheat yellow grass swayed in the light breeze coming from the west and the deep green forest, which smelled of pine and the strong sultry scent of age, reflected only the sweet chirps of birds and the scuttling of animals. Everything about this place seemed innocent and untainted. But my mind kept telling me that it was wrong. My perception of the truth was wrong. It wasn't untainted. It was dirty and used. The sound of a whistle, long and loud, echoed through my head like a long lost memory, piercing the veil of this false realm. A boy, who looked so much like me was stepping onto a platform, wincing as the monstrosity behind him whistled again. His thoughts were…familiar. The boy who looked like me…was home…
After what seemed like days we arrived in the busy town of Telford. The sun was beating warmly, bathing the cobbled streets in a heavenly yellow and a harsh white. Elderly mothers were huddled by the fountain drawing water and gossiping over this and that, while watching a group of small children playing nearby. The men both young and old could be seen working in the many small shops surrounding us as we rode through the town. Many of the young girls sauntered from the clothing stores, boasting over their new hats or their new gowns like chattering hens. All stopping momentarily as we passed.
It was weird this feeling. One girl, not much older then 16, wore a butter cream dress, frills and lace in abundance and on top of her head was a pile of dark black curls. I knew she was pretty and I responded to her and her friends flattering looks towards me but I didn't think much of it. As if my body didn't care for them. Strange as it may sound…I didn't think this odd at all…actually it felt more normal then anything. But I was too embarrassed to ask the Señore about it. I don't think I would have appreciated being laughed at over such a trivial matter of my body not liking young virile women.
Yet what really confused me was the fact that not only was I gathering the attention of many young females but many men as well. I silently cringed at the lingering stares from the stables near an Apple Bushel Inn. I was quite sure that they had more then romantic liaisons dancing about their brains especially the way they grinned at me as I stared too long in return.
"Now boy, I know your memory is…absent but incase you can't remember in court you keep your silence and let me speak. You'll be in the presence of the king and possibly even the prince. I'm to paint their portrait and you'll watch and learn. Fix minor problems after I'm done, not that there'll be many, and that's all. I know you probably don't remember our long chat the day before but I'm warnen you. If you step out of line in this I'll whip you within an inch of ye'r life. This will make my career for sure. Make a nice cozy place in court for me. And you of course if you follow my instruction. Do you follow?"
"Yes…" I murmured more intent on my surroundings then anything he had to say. I couldn't believe I'd stayed with this snake of man so long. Wasn't there something in my life more then a cranky old man who prized money and power over happiness? I guess not. Looking down for the first time I ran a hand over my clothing. It was cheap and simple, but relatively clean. A faded black shirt under another faded black tunic was sliming but roomy enough to be comfortable. The pants were an entirely different story. There was the formation of a hole on the left knee where dirt and stained blood discolored the starchy dark gray fabric. A white bandage peaked through, like a beacon against the dark colors. Then the boots, which were the cleanest and probably the newest additions to the wardrobe, for their soles had yet to be tarnished, and their black color still shone in the afternoon rays.
All in all I liked what I saw and didn't think I was treated badly by my…master. Now that seemed peculiar, like I never really thought much of the word. Hell maybe I hated it. I just couldn't remember…
The only piece of jewelry on me was a necklace, whose presence I only knew of because of the cold weight upon my chest. When I had taken it out the old man had thrown a fit. Telling me to put it away. I didn't ask why, his temper scared that adventuresome task from me. But it felt…strange…other worldly. It didn't belong here in this world.
"Are we almost there yet?" I reached back and pushed the long braid away from my neck, rubbing away the sweat that had developed. But I paused, stopping the horse with a quick pull on the reigns. What had I just said? Had I said that before? Haven't I been here before? Too many what ifs and questions without answers came to mind but I knew not what to make of them. Of course I hadn't been to the Lowe Manor before…right? The Señore would have told me right?
"What are you doing now boy? Of course we are almost there. And when we get there tell the stable boy to leave the horses as they are. We'll retrieve our things after our audience with the king." A few minutes later and I saw that he was in fact right. Two frighteningly large gates were open with two guards standing like sentinels in the two adjacent gatehouses. Both stepped out at the same time, holding their lances tipped together to prevent our entry.
"What is your business here at Lowe Manor?"
"I am Señore John Deŕorock. Master painter here to create a portrait for his majesty." I kept quiet, not sure if I was allowed to speak, but the look the Señore gave me quickly told me my place.
"And this is…?" The other guard motioned to me, forehead wrinkled and eyes heavy with something unknown. Curiosity maybe…?
"My apprentice Varelet. Is there a problem?"
"No sir. We were just not told you'd be arriving with an apprentice. You may go through. The king is awaiting you." The Señore went through the gates first, tipping his pointed hat before trotting over to the stables. I followed close behind, fingering my head bandage, eyes burning holes into the scenery around me. It was like seeing for the first time. This must have been what it was like for babies first opening their eyes to the new world. The manor was just like Hilda had said…it was not a manor, but it was…it was a castle, but then maybe not.
Weathered stones were inlaid upon each turret and tier and there were millions of them, so many I didn't dare count. A few scattered windows whose glass was made of many different colors and the name was just on the tip of my tongue…Mosaic. They were mosaic windowpanes handcrafted delicately with precious gold metal segmenting each colorful design. Then the centerpiece…the one thing that seemed almost out of place…was the gold clock set at the highest tower. Its numerals glinting in the sun. It was an engineering marvel. A clock…that was the word that matched to the picture. So I wasn't entirely lost. Maybe my memory would come back faster then I thought.
"Boy stop gawking. You act is if you haven't seen a clock before. They are quite marvelous but time consuming. Now give the horses over to the stables, we're already late." I delicately brought my leg over the other side of the horse's massive flanks, gingerly stepping down to the ground. Once that task was done I turned around and found a small boy, grubby and shoeless waiting in the shadow of a dirty stable. The stench of manure and sweat wafted from the building in waves. Almost visible in the mid afternoon heat.
"Hi…are you the one I give the horses too?" He nodded, rushing over and taking the reins quickly. Before he could get more then a few feet I yelled for him to just leave them be for them to take care of later. Comprehension didn't seem to dawn on him. He stood there, eyes wide and confused. "We'll come back out and take care of them. So could you just watch them for a moment? Get them some water?" He blinked and nodded, motioning at another shadow in the depths of the stable. Another boy came out, taller and slimmer carrying a tin of water, which he held out for each horse to drink.
Smiling I turned around heading for where I had seen my master last. He was standing next to two large doors closed and barred once more by two soldiers. "What do you mean I'm not allowed entry? I was requested here personally by his majesty. I am Señore John Deŕorock…"
"Yes we know who you are Señore Deŕorock but his majesty had sent a courier to you with a seal. If you show us that seal then you are permitted entry. We are in hard times…the seal is for the safety of his majesty and the royal family."
"Yes…ah, I believe we do have the seal. Varelet?" He turned to me, eyes patiently waiting. Now, I had this feeling that I was a fool more then once a day. That I easily made mistakes and wasn't…how shell you say, balanced mentally as well as physically. Klutz came to mind. Whatever that meant but the fact that I had no clue as to what he wanted only made that fact even harder to bear. I could just picture it. Idiot apprentice standing there with his head cocked and clueless.
The Señore also seemed to realize this, for his face took on a heated shade of red, eyes watering in frustration but he calmed enough to appear civilized. Smiling patiently back at the guards. "Boy, go and get ye'r satchel and the seal should be inside." Nodding I walked back to the horses. Okay…now what was a satchel…? The two boys were still looking after the horses, both smiling and petting them down. They paused, fear flashing in their eyes as I came up behind them but I smiled and went to my horse looking through my many belongings until I came across a brown soft bulge. I grabbed the strap hanging from it and went back. My legs were already starting to hurt and my head was about ready to explode from the heat. I was going to heave again. And doing it would warrant a fierce chastising from my master…'that' I knew for sure. This Majesty we were here for was someone I'm sure would not like to see such an act performed in his presence.
"Um, this is a…satchel?" I whispered as I came back, glaring when I heard the faint snickers coming from the guards. But when I looked at them they were still staring straight ahead, faces blank.
"Yes…it is. Find the seal." He spoke to me slowly, no longer angry. I don't know if it was because I no longer knew what a satchel was, which could come off as pathetic or because he was too tired to get anymore angrier then he already was. Rummaging inside I found a few packets of something sweet and sour smelling, a small wooden box, a slim candle, a bag, a hand bound book and a trove of papers. Some were simple sketches, which I briefly admired and then there was the peach parchment with a red wax seal broken on the back. "This it?" I gave it to him and he sighed. Turning around to the guards he presented it, back straight and a winning smile fixated on his face.
"This is it. His majesty is awaiting you in the main chamber." They opened the door and omitted us through. As the heavy cherry colored doors were closing I swore I heard one of the guards saying, "Cute boy…" I swore I did…I wasn't imagining things. I'd give them grief about it later. Maybe step on their feet discreetly.
Then, a stuffy man guided us down the many winding and twisting hallways, stairs, and such. The halls were dark and sinister, cool air wafting from the shadowy corners, cooling the sweat caused by the insufferable heat wafting from the immense glass windows. All the way I knew my mouth had to have been obscenely opened in awe at the rich cloth hangings on the walls, which I didn't have time to stop and look at properly and suits of armor that stood like sentinels by every door we passed. High arched gothic ceilings, which glittered gold in to many places for my comfort.
I know I was lost by the time we arrived at another pair of heavy opposing doors. The Señore sighed, straightening his collar and pushing back his wavy thinning locks. He then turned to me and paused. "Boy…unravel that dirty bandage and wipe your forehead clean. I'd rather not have to explain why you're bleeding all over the royal chambers." His voice was gruff and short, allowing no room to disobey, but disobey I did.
"You know you're not being very nice. Somehow, through all of this, I've come to the realization that I don't normally take your crap without putting you in your place old man." It was a risky move; one I knew would either end in respect or a severe beating.
Instead, all he did was turn back around, a hint of a small smile on his lips.
I quickly un-wrapped the bandage anyway and wiped what I could of the blood dripping down the side of my face. It was quite unnerving feeling that warm wet sluggish feeling but if I was not allowed a bandage I would have to hide the still open wound with my bangs the best I could. Our guide told us to wait a second while he announced us and we watched as he struggled to open one of the massive double doors, before quickly stepping in. I heard his voice say my masters name and then he appeared again telling us we were permitted entry.
It was grand, this room. A room meant to inspire respect and admiration just as much as trepidation. But the man and the woman seated up on the dais were something else all together. The woman was…not plain by any means of the word but she wasn't extraordinarily beautiful like the girl in the cream dress that we had passed in town. She was more elegant and refined…she gave the essence of being very…soft and distant. Her lemony colored hair was done up in an overly extensive style atop her head, decorated with gems and flowers, while her clothing was much simpler but still extravagant. The cloth was a rich silk, gleaming a pale violet color in the speckles of sun emanating from the windows.
But the man sitting next to her was stern, eyes hard and impatient. He wore more jewelry then his wife if that were possible and his clothing was bright…like a peacock. A brilliant peacock striving for attention. His hair was dark and wild and it appeared that he was growing quite the beard. I put him in the same category as my master. Severely unattractive.
"So this is the great master painter Señore John Deŕorock. I expected you sooner. You do realize that I am a busy man." His voice was deep and akin to the sound of grunting. My master quickly bowed and with a sharp tug on my pants I did the same, even though the quick motion caused me to almost up heave again. Now that would have been a pretty picture. I'm sure these two most important people had never seen someone throw up in their presence before.
"I am most profoundly sorry for the delay. We ran into a small sort of trouble, but we are here now and ready to get to work. I wouldn't want to take up your time any more then I have to." My master's voice was soft and yielding. So unlike his harsh timber with me. He stood then, struggling to his feet. He was old; I didn't expect him to shoot up like a weed. I, on the other hand, was also struggling but for an obviously different reason. My head felt like it was going to explode.
"Well, tomorrow is a better day for you to get started. So you will be shown your rooms and prepare for the arrangements. I want this painting done within the month… My god man, what is wrong with your apprentice?" My master turned to me, eyes wide. The woman on the dais stood up and waved for someone along the side of my vision. I reached up sluggishly and felt my cheek. Blood came away on my hand and I stared at it in a sick sort of fascination.
"Oh, no need to worry." He moved in front of me, blocking my grotesque appearance from the two stately figures who seemed horrified by the small rivulet of blood running from my forehead. "My idiot apprentice got into some trouble…it was why we were so late your highness. But all he needs is a little patching up and rest and he'll be right as rain. Won't you lad?" His voice had become sterner as he ended his sentence. Cold eyes telling me to suck it up and agree. I nodded my head and brought my hand down.
"At least let our doctor take a look. You should have said that he would need medical attention. That wound looks something fierce." The woman kindly smiled in my direction…I knew she would be kind.
"Of course. If you insist. Your kindness is most appreciated." My master bowed to the lady, turning to me to do the same. These strange customs seemed foreign to me. I had a feeling I didn't do them often if at all.
So I was taken from the room and brought to what appeared to be a small office. An aged man with long dirt gray hair poked and prodded me, asking for all the details about my injury. He said my lack of memory was not a problem at all and that it would most likely return when it wanted to. So he force fed me a vile concoction, rebandaged my head and told me no more horse riding for a week or more until I was better. Also, I was only allowed to eat a hearty stew that night. All of which I couldn't complain about.
After my visit with the doctor, my master informed me we were to gather our belongings and make our way to the quarters provided for us. Outside we found our horses and one of the boys I had left them with. He was smiling warily at me, offering the reins. I smiled back. He was sweet.
"Boy, get the easel out, it's the wooden pointy thing in your side bag and also get my paints, there're in the other side. If you drop either I will have you hanged by your toenails. Then once you drop those off in our rooms come and get the rest of our things. This…child will watch the horses for a little while longer." I knew my eyes were wide enough to make me look stupider then the child still standing awkwardly by our horses. For one, the words, easel and paints seemed so familiar to me. Like I had known those particular words all my life. I could even smell them. An unmistakable scent of potent…chemicals. That didn't sound right.
"Um…could I ask you something?" I placed my hand on the horse's mane, unsure how to phrase what I wanted to say.
"What is it now?" He hadn't yet looked up from his search in his own bags, looking for god knows what, so I sighed and did the same.
I pulled out what appeared to be the wooden pointy thing he had been talking about before looking back over. He still hadn't emerged from his bag, muttering about how much money and fame he would receive. "Well, I want to know…exactly…who I am. Not just my name or little stories. What's my favorite color and my favorite season? Who were my parents…do I have any one close to me? How old am I? Have I always worked for you? You're not my father right?" Finally he stopped his search, eyebrows puckered, creating a huge crater between them.
"Boy…" there was another pause, silence only broken by the sound of soldiers traveling to and from the barracks and peasants going about their chores. "No I'm not your father, thank the heavens, and no you don't have a family or anyone else for that matter. You were just some orphan who had a good eye at a young age. I paid a steal for you and your education boy." He paused, clearly thinking over his answers. "I suppose you like black and fall. Now this is not the place for this conversation. We will talk more about…your condition when we get settled. My only hope is that you remember how to paint or else you're useless to me as an apprentice." He was harsh then, glaring down at me before pointedly heading back inside. "We will be rooming in the violet wing. Ask a maid when you need to find it."
I was alone in the world. I had no family at all…just some old coot who was confused about his own feelings or lack there of.
Sighing heavily, I turned back to the horse, petting its coarse mane. "Do you know who I am?" I whispered into its ear. In answer the horse whickered, tail flicking side to side. "Of course you don't…no one does…" Finishing what my master asked me to do; I grabbed what little I could and asked the boy to watch the horses for just a little while longer. In return he smiled. I could tell he was warming up to me…a little less scared then the first moment we met. "Thank you for bearing with me" I told him and trudged back through the doors, in search of a maid, all the while twitching at the feel of eyes following me.
A/N: Next chapter the long awaited meeting. YEAH! I am so sorry about how tardy I am with this chapter. School was rough… not that that's a great excuse but it's the only one in my arsenal at the moment. Hopefully my other stories will be updated shortly as well.