- Joined
- Mar 18, 2019
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. . . . . A Grain of Power ও a Pinch of Madness . . . . . |
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ₐ 𝓖ᵣₐᵢₙ ₒf 𝓟ₒwₑʁ & ₐ 𝓟ᵢₙ𝔠ₕ ₒf 𝑀ₐ𝔡ₙₑₛƧ (𝓙ỮϻⒷ𝕃𝒆𝐝 ˟ 𝓕ᵃ𝕥𝐄)
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OP
OP
- Joined
- Mar 18, 2019
In a world filled with sorcerers and magic, Alice was ordinary. Her talents were nowhere close to a colorful and exciting spectrum of spells and potions, but instead, in a colorless world of breads, pastries and pies. Colorless suited Alice, or so she thought. While so many others hoped to be special and wished to stand out in the crowd, all she wanted to do was remain hidden in her safe, flour-filled world. However, the universe was a prankster and Alice was often the butt of its jokes.
At most, she considered the possibility that a hex had been placed upon her. It seemed the obvious reason everything in her little bakery was either burning or breaking without any effort from Alice. During her busiest hours, her china would crack and topple onto the floor, meanwhile the fires in the ovens would roar as if a dragon were breathing into them; like the energy around her was being amplified for some reason. As if things weren't already stressful enough at work without such added chaos! She needed to get this problem corrected at once.
A well timed trip to the nearest office for the Council of Magics was supposed to clear everything up. Alice had it all planned out in her head. Ask to speak to a sorcerer, explain why she must be cursed, have the curse removed, then go back to her ordinary life. But, no. Instead, she was now packing her belongings into an old, nearly broken bag, preparing to leave the only home she'd ever known because the council said she had an "unusual magical talent." In other words, Alice had to go live with some random sorcerer of their choice, and it wasn't even a woman!
Alice stared at her dusty room that was sparse of personal effects with teary green eyes. She wondered when she would see it again. With soft steps, she moved to her dresser, gazing into the mirror that sat along the back edge of the chest and the wall. She was a mess. There were wet streaks running down her cheeks that trailed through a light layer of flour that covered her skin from working earlier in the day. Her hair was in a messy ball against her head with small spirals falling near her ears and the base of her neck. She looked brunette like this, which she preferred. Her natural, red hair often caused others to tease her, and she hated that very much. Pushing tears away with a hand, the streaks along her face worsened.
"Well, that's fitting." she decided aloud.
From the bottom of the staircase, tucked away in the back of her bakery, she heard the faint sound of a throat clearing. Never had Alice imagined the Council of Magics was going to send a representative back with her to her humble shop and home. The bakery had been her sanctuary for so long, it was impossible to process the emotional anguish that gathered in her gut knowing she was leaving. With a heave of the little blue case, peeling and chipping at the corners to show its age, Alice emerged at the top of the stairs with her bag.
Waiting below, a wiry man, face lined with age, stood with a polished shoe tapping at the wooden floorboards. A gloved hand flipped a pocket watch open and shut before it was tucked safely away inside a gold embroidered, white coat. This man, with eyebrows that leapt off of his face, was far cleaner than she could ever imagine being herself. Even his hair, and those caterpillar eyebrows were a shining white. There was a slight distaste, she could tell, in his every movement. He was not a man that liked to get messy and standing in the back of her building seemed to threaten his very existence somehow. As she descended the stairway, the elder man tensed as if being near her also threatened to get him dirty, though perhaps he wasn't wrong to think such a thing. Alice's clothing lacked any sort of style or shape to it. The fabrics hung against her much like a potato sack, with the color of one to boot. There wasn't any real appeal to her, she was a simpleton, with smudges on her skin and stains on her clothes. A physical laborer.
"We must be going Miss, it's a three days travel to Argus Manor." he urged her. Alice was certain his rush was more to do with leaving the bakery. She followed behind him, allowing him outside, then flipped over the sign in the window to read "closed" before drawing a curtain behind it. What an unreal situation. Surely she was dreaming. Alice didn't ever close the shop during the day, she didn't even take vacations. Upon exiting and locking the door to her old life, she heard a similar throat clearing, same as before, and she peered over to the councilman curiously, noting his outstretched palm.
"What. . .? Oh." she said as her gaze traveled down to the key in her hand. She was genuinely losing her entire life in one day. Her fingers trembled as she dropped the iron key into his hand, and she watched defeatedly as he slid it down into a jacket pocket, followed with a pat of his hand. What was going to happen to her home? She couldn't argue with him, especially not with a three day trip happening in mere moments, and certainly not when he belonged to the council. She was trapped.
Alice watched as the councilman approached a large carriage. It was one of the finest carriages she had ever seen. With dark cherry wood, golden trim and wheels, it would easily seat six to eight people. She watched as a pair of mid-tier mages hopped down from the front of the vehicle. This was a magically powered vessel, so there were no horses. It was a very strange sight. Several people from the village had poked their heads out to see what was going on. Alice couldn't remember the last time her little hometown had visitors like them and neither could anyone else. There was chatter, and she could feel many eyes fall on her with both confusion and excitement. She just wanted them to go back to their homes and stop staring.
One of the coachman mages took her bag and stowed it away, while another helped her climb into the plush quarters inside of the cab. She stared in disbelief, not wanting to touch anything in fear of destroying it.
"Do sit down, please, Alice Stone." the councilman said. "You may call me Sir Stanley." he informed her as he settled on the opposite side of her. He looked so proper against the bright red seats with his white suit. Alice already knew she was not going to fit into their world of magic and she still wasn't convinced she even was magical. She couldn't even create a witch's light, the most basic of spells. Besides, she was far too old for an apprenticeship. She sat down, folding her hands in her lap with her fingers interlaced, sighing softly as she watched her small town fade out of sight. Three days was going to be long, indeed.
On the long and drawn out journey to a place she'd rather not have to go, Alice came to several realizations. The first of many was how differently things smelled when one wasn't in a small, poor town full of lower classmen. Through the carriage windows, she watched the scenery change for days, ranging from big cities, to riversides and heavily wooded forests. All of them had their unique scents, for certain, but it was the current one that had really caught her attention and stirred her mind into a more awakened state. Following that, her second of many conclusions was that traveling made her incredibly drowsy.
Giant, red cedar trees jutted out from the ground and out from the hillsides, reaching up infinitely toward the sky. Alice observed that as she looked for treetops, she could only see a black veil hiding all detail of the world above them. Not knowing much in the ways of magic, she wondered if the men controlling the vehicle were also responsible for this shift in the light, but she wouldn't dare ask. The scent of cedar had filled the air and she'd become overwhelmed with a sense of needing to be exactly where she was at that time. She would much rather have the men stop the carriage and let her out there instead of going to the aforementioned Argus Manor. She could try to tough it out and live off of the land-- No; she would perish.
Perhaps she was just getting restless. Being trapped in a large box was one thing, but being trapped in a large box with Sir Stanley was something far more uncomfortable. He spent most of his time reading a small book he kept in his jacket when not in use, or scribbling notes down in a smaller, more personal looking journal. He often cleared his throat, causing Alice to wonder if he wanted her to say something, though it never seemed to be the case. She'd spent hours watching his eyebrows, certain they were each a separate living creature that simply chose to rest on his face, or were perhaps magically charmed to do so. Alice had a lot of strange ideas when it came to magic, not really caring to remember much of anything from the prep schooling she'd had as a child. Her imagination enjoyed filling in the gaps, and it seemed to pass the time.
The carriage thumped over a large root and the two passengers bounced out of their seats, though Sir Stanley had recovered well, not even looking up from his reading. Alice, on the other hand, had been thrown off of her bench and huffed as she pulled herself back up, wondering why her company wouldn't even pretend she existed. Wouldn't a normal person have laughed, or said anything to lighten the mood? Perhaps Alice expected too much from this man, though they were already on their third day of traveling together. Then she heard that familiar sound of his throat, and she supposed that was the most she would ever get from him.
The further they traveled into the forest, the more winding it became with turns and hills flowing steadily forward. Fog was lingering heavily over the ground and shifted upward nearly masking them from sight. It became steadily creepier and she wondered if this was simply an enchantment to ward people off from whatever they were approaching as they neared an opening in the dense trees.
The sky above, now that Alice could actually see it, was rather gray and dull, though she couldn't seem to find any clouds to cause such a sight. It was as if the world simply lost its color in this place away from men. Her mouth dropped open in the slightest as she stared in both confusion and awe. A manor, standing alone in its old glory, looked almost sad. From what she could tell, there was nothing beyond the point of this place. It seemed one last realization would come to her before the carriage slowed to a halt: this was where she was going to be staying.
The carriage wobbled from side to side as the two mages hopped down from the front bench. One of them came around the side to open a door for the two, while the other tended to something in the back. As ready as she had been to escape the boxed in room with Sir throat-clearer, Alice found herself frozen in place, intimidated by the manor that sat, forgotten in time, beyond the cedar forest.
"Miss Stone." Sir Stanley said, though it was more of a command implying she needed to get out. Somehow Alice had forgotten he could talk at all. She stared at him, startled, then reached around for her tired blue case, gripping it tightly in both hands.
"Coming." she managed, though her voice seemed so small.
Her heart was pounding, her chest filling with anxiety. She couldn't possibly do this. Why hadn't anyone put an end to this horrible prank? Her eyes searched longingly for the pocket in which the key to her bakery rested before Sir Stanley turned away from her gaze. Frowning, Alice inhaled a deep breath of the rich air and stepped down from one prison only to enter another.
Small stones crunched under their shoes as the four walked to the front entrance of the manor. The two coachmen went ahead of Stanley and Alice, ready to announce their passengers to the head of the household. Alice wondered how many people lived in such a big house. Did sorcerers often apprentice many young mages at one time? Was this some type of manor-turned-school? Again, her imagination attempted to piece things together, though nothing actually fit. She imagined, best case scenario, she'd be working with a dozen or so ten to twelve year old children until everyone discovered she had no magical talents. Worst case scenario; Well. . .
Alice pursed her lips together, straightening herself as she held her bag close to her pelvis. There was no real way to look presentable at this point. Her clothing was always too large and dull colored, her hair a mass of curls and frizz in the bun upon her head. Three days of travel didn't lend to her smell, either, though she could still faintly find the softest scent of flour, perhaps somewhere lost in her hair. However she looked, it wasn't going to help her make a good first impression, she was sure. The best she could do was follow Sir Stanley quietly, nod, and keep silent unless spoken to. There was no telling the temperament of a sorcerer, after all.
At most, she considered the possibility that a hex had been placed upon her. It seemed the obvious reason everything in her little bakery was either burning or breaking without any effort from Alice. During her busiest hours, her china would crack and topple onto the floor, meanwhile the fires in the ovens would roar as if a dragon were breathing into them; like the energy around her was being amplified for some reason. As if things weren't already stressful enough at work without such added chaos! She needed to get this problem corrected at once.
A well timed trip to the nearest office for the Council of Magics was supposed to clear everything up. Alice had it all planned out in her head. Ask to speak to a sorcerer, explain why she must be cursed, have the curse removed, then go back to her ordinary life. But, no. Instead, she was now packing her belongings into an old, nearly broken bag, preparing to leave the only home she'd ever known because the council said she had an "unusual magical talent." In other words, Alice had to go live with some random sorcerer of their choice, and it wasn't even a woman!
Alice stared at her dusty room that was sparse of personal effects with teary green eyes. She wondered when she would see it again. With soft steps, she moved to her dresser, gazing into the mirror that sat along the back edge of the chest and the wall. She was a mess. There were wet streaks running down her cheeks that trailed through a light layer of flour that covered her skin from working earlier in the day. Her hair was in a messy ball against her head with small spirals falling near her ears and the base of her neck. She looked brunette like this, which she preferred. Her natural, red hair often caused others to tease her, and she hated that very much. Pushing tears away with a hand, the streaks along her face worsened.
"Well, that's fitting." she decided aloud.
From the bottom of the staircase, tucked away in the back of her bakery, she heard the faint sound of a throat clearing. Never had Alice imagined the Council of Magics was going to send a representative back with her to her humble shop and home. The bakery had been her sanctuary for so long, it was impossible to process the emotional anguish that gathered in her gut knowing she was leaving. With a heave of the little blue case, peeling and chipping at the corners to show its age, Alice emerged at the top of the stairs with her bag.
Waiting below, a wiry man, face lined with age, stood with a polished shoe tapping at the wooden floorboards. A gloved hand flipped a pocket watch open and shut before it was tucked safely away inside a gold embroidered, white coat. This man, with eyebrows that leapt off of his face, was far cleaner than she could ever imagine being herself. Even his hair, and those caterpillar eyebrows were a shining white. There was a slight distaste, she could tell, in his every movement. He was not a man that liked to get messy and standing in the back of her building seemed to threaten his very existence somehow. As she descended the stairway, the elder man tensed as if being near her also threatened to get him dirty, though perhaps he wasn't wrong to think such a thing. Alice's clothing lacked any sort of style or shape to it. The fabrics hung against her much like a potato sack, with the color of one to boot. There wasn't any real appeal to her, she was a simpleton, with smudges on her skin and stains on her clothes. A physical laborer.
"We must be going Miss, it's a three days travel to Argus Manor." he urged her. Alice was certain his rush was more to do with leaving the bakery. She followed behind him, allowing him outside, then flipped over the sign in the window to read "closed" before drawing a curtain behind it. What an unreal situation. Surely she was dreaming. Alice didn't ever close the shop during the day, she didn't even take vacations. Upon exiting and locking the door to her old life, she heard a similar throat clearing, same as before, and she peered over to the councilman curiously, noting his outstretched palm.
"What. . .? Oh." she said as her gaze traveled down to the key in her hand. She was genuinely losing her entire life in one day. Her fingers trembled as she dropped the iron key into his hand, and she watched defeatedly as he slid it down into a jacket pocket, followed with a pat of his hand. What was going to happen to her home? She couldn't argue with him, especially not with a three day trip happening in mere moments, and certainly not when he belonged to the council. She was trapped.
Alice watched as the councilman approached a large carriage. It was one of the finest carriages she had ever seen. With dark cherry wood, golden trim and wheels, it would easily seat six to eight people. She watched as a pair of mid-tier mages hopped down from the front of the vehicle. This was a magically powered vessel, so there were no horses. It was a very strange sight. Several people from the village had poked their heads out to see what was going on. Alice couldn't remember the last time her little hometown had visitors like them and neither could anyone else. There was chatter, and she could feel many eyes fall on her with both confusion and excitement. She just wanted them to go back to their homes and stop staring.
One of the coachman mages took her bag and stowed it away, while another helped her climb into the plush quarters inside of the cab. She stared in disbelief, not wanting to touch anything in fear of destroying it.
"Do sit down, please, Alice Stone." the councilman said. "You may call me Sir Stanley." he informed her as he settled on the opposite side of her. He looked so proper against the bright red seats with his white suit. Alice already knew she was not going to fit into their world of magic and she still wasn't convinced she even was magical. She couldn't even create a witch's light, the most basic of spells. Besides, she was far too old for an apprenticeship. She sat down, folding her hands in her lap with her fingers interlaced, sighing softly as she watched her small town fade out of sight. Three days was going to be long, indeed.
On the long and drawn out journey to a place she'd rather not have to go, Alice came to several realizations. The first of many was how differently things smelled when one wasn't in a small, poor town full of lower classmen. Through the carriage windows, she watched the scenery change for days, ranging from big cities, to riversides and heavily wooded forests. All of them had their unique scents, for certain, but it was the current one that had really caught her attention and stirred her mind into a more awakened state. Following that, her second of many conclusions was that traveling made her incredibly drowsy.
Giant, red cedar trees jutted out from the ground and out from the hillsides, reaching up infinitely toward the sky. Alice observed that as she looked for treetops, she could only see a black veil hiding all detail of the world above them. Not knowing much in the ways of magic, she wondered if the men controlling the vehicle were also responsible for this shift in the light, but she wouldn't dare ask. The scent of cedar had filled the air and she'd become overwhelmed with a sense of needing to be exactly where she was at that time. She would much rather have the men stop the carriage and let her out there instead of going to the aforementioned Argus Manor. She could try to tough it out and live off of the land-- No; she would perish.
Perhaps she was just getting restless. Being trapped in a large box was one thing, but being trapped in a large box with Sir Stanley was something far more uncomfortable. He spent most of his time reading a small book he kept in his jacket when not in use, or scribbling notes down in a smaller, more personal looking journal. He often cleared his throat, causing Alice to wonder if he wanted her to say something, though it never seemed to be the case. She'd spent hours watching his eyebrows, certain they were each a separate living creature that simply chose to rest on his face, or were perhaps magically charmed to do so. Alice had a lot of strange ideas when it came to magic, not really caring to remember much of anything from the prep schooling she'd had as a child. Her imagination enjoyed filling in the gaps, and it seemed to pass the time.
The carriage thumped over a large root and the two passengers bounced out of their seats, though Sir Stanley had recovered well, not even looking up from his reading. Alice, on the other hand, had been thrown off of her bench and huffed as she pulled herself back up, wondering why her company wouldn't even pretend she existed. Wouldn't a normal person have laughed, or said anything to lighten the mood? Perhaps Alice expected too much from this man, though they were already on their third day of traveling together. Then she heard that familiar sound of his throat, and she supposed that was the most she would ever get from him.
The further they traveled into the forest, the more winding it became with turns and hills flowing steadily forward. Fog was lingering heavily over the ground and shifted upward nearly masking them from sight. It became steadily creepier and she wondered if this was simply an enchantment to ward people off from whatever they were approaching as they neared an opening in the dense trees.
The sky above, now that Alice could actually see it, was rather gray and dull, though she couldn't seem to find any clouds to cause such a sight. It was as if the world simply lost its color in this place away from men. Her mouth dropped open in the slightest as she stared in both confusion and awe. A manor, standing alone in its old glory, looked almost sad. From what she could tell, there was nothing beyond the point of this place. It seemed one last realization would come to her before the carriage slowed to a halt: this was where she was going to be staying.
The carriage wobbled from side to side as the two mages hopped down from the front bench. One of them came around the side to open a door for the two, while the other tended to something in the back. As ready as she had been to escape the boxed in room with Sir throat-clearer, Alice found herself frozen in place, intimidated by the manor that sat, forgotten in time, beyond the cedar forest.
"Miss Stone." Sir Stanley said, though it was more of a command implying she needed to get out. Somehow Alice had forgotten he could talk at all. She stared at him, startled, then reached around for her tired blue case, gripping it tightly in both hands.
"Coming." she managed, though her voice seemed so small.
Her heart was pounding, her chest filling with anxiety. She couldn't possibly do this. Why hadn't anyone put an end to this horrible prank? Her eyes searched longingly for the pocket in which the key to her bakery rested before Sir Stanley turned away from her gaze. Frowning, Alice inhaled a deep breath of the rich air and stepped down from one prison only to enter another.
Small stones crunched under their shoes as the four walked to the front entrance of the manor. The two coachmen went ahead of Stanley and Alice, ready to announce their passengers to the head of the household. Alice wondered how many people lived in such a big house. Did sorcerers often apprentice many young mages at one time? Was this some type of manor-turned-school? Again, her imagination attempted to piece things together, though nothing actually fit. She imagined, best case scenario, she'd be working with a dozen or so ten to twelve year old children until everyone discovered she had no magical talents. Worst case scenario; Well. . .
Alice pursed her lips together, straightening herself as she held her bag close to her pelvis. There was no real way to look presentable at this point. Her clothing was always too large and dull colored, her hair a mass of curls and frizz in the bun upon her head. Three days of travel didn't lend to her smell, either, though she could still faintly find the softest scent of flour, perhaps somewhere lost in her hair. However she looked, it wasn't going to help her make a good first impression, she was sure. The best she could do was follow Sir Stanley quietly, nod, and keep silent unless spoken to. There was no telling the temperament of a sorcerer, after all.
OP
OP
- Joined
- Mar 18, 2019
Alice's eyes traveled up to the various levels of the manor. She couldn't recall a time in her life when she had visited such a mighty home. She wondered how many people would be inside as she peered up at the windows of the higher stories. Perhaps this Argus Manor was like a schoolhouse and there would be many students with their own rooms. Why else would someone have a need for such a large estate? Her imagination flooded with images of clean classrooms filled with potion bottles and beakers, young mages levitating objects and maybe even a pet dragon running about. Alice would never be convinced that all of the dragons had died off. She held a strong hope in her heart they still existed. Somewhere.
A sudden, familiar noise broke her away from her musing. Alice gave Sir Stanley a side glance.
'Just cough it up already…!' she thought in her aggravation with the man. How much longer would she have to endure being around him? The sounds of his throat clearing had started to cause her to reflexively ball up a fist when they were in the carriage. She wondered what might happen to her if she did hit him. The most amusing scenario was that of him shrieking and trying to clean the smudge from her hit off. More likely, she was the smudge as a whole, and he'd turn her into a bug and squash her. Again, Alice invented ideas of what magic could and could not do. Maybe he could turn her into a bug.
Her fingers twisted around the handle of her baggage. The sweat forming on her palms reminded her of her nerves. Exhaling deeply, she focused on the front entryway. The two coachmen had approached the main doors but they looked incredibly uneasy. Tilting her head, Alice soon glanced upward once more. What were they nervous about? They weren't the ones being sent off to learn magic when there wasn't an ounce of it in them; that was her. She supposed the building looked a little on the spooky side, if being old and not cared for meant such a thing. And if it was so, she too, was spooky.
She wondered how long they would all be standing outside. It wasn't particularly uncomfortable temperature-wise, but Alice was tired of being still in the utter filth she felt. She wanted to clean up. Perhaps a shower would be possible. By that point, a bowl of clean water and a small towel would suffice. Sir Stanley hadn't provided her with much of anything other than some small meals when the carriage stopped each night. It would have been kind of him to suggest she bring some food of her own. Theirs tasted stale; it was magically conjured food. The stuff was practically inedible as far as she was concerned.
The coachmen struggled to get to the doors to ring the bell or even knock. What was wrong with them now? She thought about doing it herself, but, somehow she imagined getting lectured for it. Stanley hadn't budged from his spot. He was like a clean little statue with his feet planted firmly on the ground, though not so firmly to get any dirt on his shoes. He was off to the right of her, but still in front of her by a few feet. She stared into his thinning hair and bald patch on the back of his head. He still had enough hair to pull back and knot with a small silk bow. 'So sophisticated.'
Without warning, at least none that Alice knew of, the front doors swung open — both at once — like magic. Alice gasped, though the others seemed unaffected by the suddenness.
'Right,' she reminded herself. It likely was magic. Could they all just sense it happening? She certainly didn't have that ability. Again, more evidence that the Council was incredibly wrong about her.
The coachmen divided themselves up, one by each of the open doors. Sir Stanley finally budged from his spot and practically marched into the manor. His posture was stiff and straight with his arms folded behind his back. Alice stood, frozen in place as she watched him. He stopped, cleared his throat and she rolled her eyes.
"Miss Stone. Gather yourself at once." he directed.
"Oh! Yes, of course!" she hurried to catch up to him. It was laughable how quickly she had forgotten the reason all of them had come to such a place. It was her; Alice was the reason. The unremarkable girl that knew no magic but was somehow remarkably magical. 'What rubbish.'
The outside was particularly gray, but inside the manor there was plenty of color. Purples, reds, rich browns and grays from natural woods and stones. They were faded, the home had aged, but those sorts of characteristics typically made a house a home. Alice was sure it was the same for a very — very — large home, too. It didn't take her long to nix the idea of the dozens of student mages and clean workshops. 'Clean?' Was Sir Stanley rubbing off on her? She cringed at the very thought. Her one last hope was to find a dragon hidden somewhere in the manor. That would have to be her mission for the time.
Alice took in her surroundings slowly as they waited in the entryway. Again, Stanley was frozen in place. They waited for another short eternity, it seemed, before a man in a beautiful red suit approached Sir Stanley. He reached to tap him and Alice almost thought to warn him about how he didn't like to get dirty. But, before her joke had even registered fully in her mind, the man in white with his obnoxious little throat tickles was gone. Alice's face was that of shock and bewilderment. What just happened? She turned to look behind her, the two coachmen were still posted near the doors, but a torrent of wind suddenly ripped them out from the room. The men wailed with surprise and just before the doors had shut completely, she was certain she saw a little man in a white suit sitting in the dirt outside.
Alice began to giggle to herself softly. The doors slammed shut and a lock sounded without a person standing at the ready with a key. Her whole body jumped from the bang. MAGIC! Alice's giggles became louder and harder to control. She turned back to the man in red all while attempting to calm herself back down. She locked eyes with him and her silliness faded instantly. He was scarred; his eye was damaged and likely blind. She straightened her shoulders, trying to quickly change the expression of surprise her eyes had revealed. Her face tended to always give her away before her words even had a chance.
She didn't break eye contact with him, not even when he bowed and welcomed her. If there was one thing she wanted him to understand, it was that she wasn't afraid to see him. She smiled softly and released a small breath; sometimes it seemed as though she had to remind herself to start breathing again.
"Thank you. I'm Alice," she said. "I, uh— I don't actually know if you knew that. You probably did, sorry." she rambled a little. He didn't seem to mind her quickened speech and extended his hand for her back with a warm welcome.
"Miss Stone," he began. "It is a pleasure to have you. You may call me Finn. I'll escort you to meet the master of the house." he told her.
She glanced down at her case. It was basically as pitiful looking as she was. "It's nearly broken. I could carry it myself — " she offered. He kept his hand outstretched for it, still smiling. "Uh, yes, okay. That's fine." she said softly. She could feel her cheeks grow warm. If there was one thing she didn't want to do, it was go off to meet the man in charge of her studies, or whatever it was she was supposed to be doing in such a place.
The servant took her bag, clasping it lightly without fear of it falling apart. For a moment, she watched him look up to the wall where a portrait hung. He was already focused on guiding her forward but Alice took a moment to stare at the painting. Was that man the Arch Mage? He looked so grumpy sitting up there, all powerful and important, no doubt. Perhaps power made men like him grumpy. 'Great…'
Alice moved in stride with Finn, though she stayed behind him enough to keep from walking into a wall or looking like a fool in some other idiotic way. They entered the study, and at first glance, she was in awe of the many bookshelves and trinkets that decorated the shelving. Books upon books only to be placed beside oddly shaped bones and jars. She especially loved the clusters of raw gemstones; they were beautiful. She hadn't realized that the master of the manor was actually sitting in the chair further into the room. In fact, she hadn't noticed his desk at all from the direction they had entered.
As Finn announced them, Alice turned in surprise. As she spun to the side she saw him there. Already she felt intimidated. She tugged at parts of her dress trying to sort herself out, then clasped her hands together in front of her body. What was a person supposed to do when they met an Arch Mage? Bow? Finn had bowed to her. Alice dropped her head slowly then lifted herself upright again.
"Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Alice Madeline Stone — and I am not magical." she stated. This was a line she had been repeating in her head for some time. The whole way there, actually. She was amazed she had actually said it out loud. Alice wasn't sure what sort of reaction it was going to get her from this Arch Mage, but by that point she had already lost everything. What more was there for her to lose?
A sudden, familiar noise broke her away from her musing. Alice gave Sir Stanley a side glance.
'Just cough it up already…!' she thought in her aggravation with the man. How much longer would she have to endure being around him? The sounds of his throat clearing had started to cause her to reflexively ball up a fist when they were in the carriage. She wondered what might happen to her if she did hit him. The most amusing scenario was that of him shrieking and trying to clean the smudge from her hit off. More likely, she was the smudge as a whole, and he'd turn her into a bug and squash her. Again, Alice invented ideas of what magic could and could not do. Maybe he could turn her into a bug.
Her fingers twisted around the handle of her baggage. The sweat forming on her palms reminded her of her nerves. Exhaling deeply, she focused on the front entryway. The two coachmen had approached the main doors but they looked incredibly uneasy. Tilting her head, Alice soon glanced upward once more. What were they nervous about? They weren't the ones being sent off to learn magic when there wasn't an ounce of it in them; that was her. She supposed the building looked a little on the spooky side, if being old and not cared for meant such a thing. And if it was so, she too, was spooky.
She wondered how long they would all be standing outside. It wasn't particularly uncomfortable temperature-wise, but Alice was tired of being still in the utter filth she felt. She wanted to clean up. Perhaps a shower would be possible. By that point, a bowl of clean water and a small towel would suffice. Sir Stanley hadn't provided her with much of anything other than some small meals when the carriage stopped each night. It would have been kind of him to suggest she bring some food of her own. Theirs tasted stale; it was magically conjured food. The stuff was practically inedible as far as she was concerned.
The coachmen struggled to get to the doors to ring the bell or even knock. What was wrong with them now? She thought about doing it herself, but, somehow she imagined getting lectured for it. Stanley hadn't budged from his spot. He was like a clean little statue with his feet planted firmly on the ground, though not so firmly to get any dirt on his shoes. He was off to the right of her, but still in front of her by a few feet. She stared into his thinning hair and bald patch on the back of his head. He still had enough hair to pull back and knot with a small silk bow. 'So sophisticated.'
Without warning, at least none that Alice knew of, the front doors swung open — both at once — like magic. Alice gasped, though the others seemed unaffected by the suddenness.
'Right,' she reminded herself. It likely was magic. Could they all just sense it happening? She certainly didn't have that ability. Again, more evidence that the Council was incredibly wrong about her.
The coachmen divided themselves up, one by each of the open doors. Sir Stanley finally budged from his spot and practically marched into the manor. His posture was stiff and straight with his arms folded behind his back. Alice stood, frozen in place as she watched him. He stopped, cleared his throat and she rolled her eyes.
"Miss Stone. Gather yourself at once." he directed.
"Oh! Yes, of course!" she hurried to catch up to him. It was laughable how quickly she had forgotten the reason all of them had come to such a place. It was her; Alice was the reason. The unremarkable girl that knew no magic but was somehow remarkably magical. 'What rubbish.'
The outside was particularly gray, but inside the manor there was plenty of color. Purples, reds, rich browns and grays from natural woods and stones. They were faded, the home had aged, but those sorts of characteristics typically made a house a home. Alice was sure it was the same for a very — very — large home, too. It didn't take her long to nix the idea of the dozens of student mages and clean workshops. 'Clean?' Was Sir Stanley rubbing off on her? She cringed at the very thought. Her one last hope was to find a dragon hidden somewhere in the manor. That would have to be her mission for the time.
Alice took in her surroundings slowly as they waited in the entryway. Again, Stanley was frozen in place. They waited for another short eternity, it seemed, before a man in a beautiful red suit approached Sir Stanley. He reached to tap him and Alice almost thought to warn him about how he didn't like to get dirty. But, before her joke had even registered fully in her mind, the man in white with his obnoxious little throat tickles was gone. Alice's face was that of shock and bewilderment. What just happened? She turned to look behind her, the two coachmen were still posted near the doors, but a torrent of wind suddenly ripped them out from the room. The men wailed with surprise and just before the doors had shut completely, she was certain she saw a little man in a white suit sitting in the dirt outside.
Alice began to giggle to herself softly. The doors slammed shut and a lock sounded without a person standing at the ready with a key. Her whole body jumped from the bang. MAGIC! Alice's giggles became louder and harder to control. She turned back to the man in red all while attempting to calm herself back down. She locked eyes with him and her silliness faded instantly. He was scarred; his eye was damaged and likely blind. She straightened her shoulders, trying to quickly change the expression of surprise her eyes had revealed. Her face tended to always give her away before her words even had a chance.
She didn't break eye contact with him, not even when he bowed and welcomed her. If there was one thing she wanted him to understand, it was that she wasn't afraid to see him. She smiled softly and released a small breath; sometimes it seemed as though she had to remind herself to start breathing again.
"Thank you. I'm Alice," she said. "I, uh— I don't actually know if you knew that. You probably did, sorry." she rambled a little. He didn't seem to mind her quickened speech and extended his hand for her back with a warm welcome.
"Miss Stone," he began. "It is a pleasure to have you. You may call me Finn. I'll escort you to meet the master of the house." he told her.
She glanced down at her case. It was basically as pitiful looking as she was. "It's nearly broken. I could carry it myself — " she offered. He kept his hand outstretched for it, still smiling. "Uh, yes, okay. That's fine." she said softly. She could feel her cheeks grow warm. If there was one thing she didn't want to do, it was go off to meet the man in charge of her studies, or whatever it was she was supposed to be doing in such a place.
The servant took her bag, clasping it lightly without fear of it falling apart. For a moment, she watched him look up to the wall where a portrait hung. He was already focused on guiding her forward but Alice took a moment to stare at the painting. Was that man the Arch Mage? He looked so grumpy sitting up there, all powerful and important, no doubt. Perhaps power made men like him grumpy. 'Great…'
Alice moved in stride with Finn, though she stayed behind him enough to keep from walking into a wall or looking like a fool in some other idiotic way. They entered the study, and at first glance, she was in awe of the many bookshelves and trinkets that decorated the shelving. Books upon books only to be placed beside oddly shaped bones and jars. She especially loved the clusters of raw gemstones; they were beautiful. She hadn't realized that the master of the manor was actually sitting in the chair further into the room. In fact, she hadn't noticed his desk at all from the direction they had entered.
As Finn announced them, Alice turned in surprise. As she spun to the side she saw him there. Already she felt intimidated. She tugged at parts of her dress trying to sort herself out, then clasped her hands together in front of her body. What was a person supposed to do when they met an Arch Mage? Bow? Finn had bowed to her. Alice dropped her head slowly then lifted herself upright again.
"Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Alice Madeline Stone — and I am not magical." she stated. This was a line she had been repeating in her head for some time. The whole way there, actually. She was amazed she had actually said it out loud. Alice wasn't sure what sort of reaction it was going to get her from this Arch Mage, but by that point she had already lost everything. What more was there for her to lose?
OP
OP
- Joined
- Mar 18, 2019
From the moment she had entered the study of the manor, Alice could feel that she was in for a long ride. Maybe bowing was the wrong move. As she straightened her posture, her gaze met the mage’s. He was just as grumpy looking as that portrait. ‘Fantastic.’ The Arch Mage that sat at his desk had an assortment of tools laid out to use on her, it seemed. ‘Not more needles.’ she nearly groaned from the thought. It wasn’t that she had a fear of medical or magical equipment of the like, but her poor arm was still a mixture of grays, purples and now greens from the bruising before her journey had even begun.
He shifted in his chair, somehow broadening his shoulders as he leaned against his plush, red cushions behind him. He looked as though he was working to get something unstuck from a back tooth as she noticed the motion of his tongue against the inside of his cheek. With a hand raised, he motioned for her to move forward with his first two fingers. Alice glanced at Finn, but the servant’s attention was on the Arch Mage and she was on his blind side.
“Well, Miss Alice—” the mage began, pausing as he pushed his chair back, raising from the seat to approach her instead. “— Madeline Stone.” he finished saying her name and she nearly cringed. He spoke with such distaste. He practically hissed at her. “You’ve made this all so easy for me.” he continued, the sound of each step he took filled her ears like booming thunder. She felt them grow warmer— there was no way her ears hadn’t turned bright red and she knew it. “So, council spy, since we’ve established what you are and what you are not—” As he’d rounded his desk, his nimble fingers reached over to grasp a syringe.
“W-wait, what?” Alice’s first reaction was pure confusion. She took a step backwards as he approached her. Her focus shifted from his stare to the glint of a needle swinging around so effortlessly in his fingers. “I don’t understand what you mean. What would I be spying on?” she said, trying better to understand. His steps forward did not waiver and so she took another step back. She could feel panic building within her chest. She looked down to the inner joint of her arm, but the sleeve of her dress was just long enough to cover the spot.
“Come now, don’t waste my time. You’ve already admitted it to me. So, how shall I send you back to them? In pieces?”
She was still trying to wrap her mind around what he had suggested to her. A spy? Whatever gave him that impression about her? She was dirty, smelly and poorly dressed. She was not some impressionable mage student that could be molded by the council and sent to gather whatever information he assumed they wanted from such a place. Unless— Alice glanced around but saw no clear indications of dragons scampering about. Not to worry, there was still plenty of the manor to search. But this task was of her own choice and she would certainly be keeping any drake for herself in hopes of having the cutest, fiercest pet in the world. The council would never take her dragon!
With a final step forward, the Arch Mage closed the gap between the two of them and before Alice could react, he’d grabbed hold of her bruised arm, nearly pulling her entire body with it. After the initial shock and gasp that escaped her lips, Alice dared to step back again, even with the man capturing her arm so aggressively as she did. She could feel his rage bearing down on her, making the room heavy. She wasn’t sure if that was a magical effect or just her ability to read emotions well.
“Let me go—!” she said as she struggled against him. With the master of the house holding her arm hostage, she spiraled into a flood of memories she didn’t want to revisit. This wasn’t the first time she had been pinned by a man stronger than herself. Her eyes were wide, but it seemed as if she wasn’t present in the current situation. A loud sounding crack of something across the room snapped her out of the trance she was sinking slowly into and she nearly jumped out of her own skin. She looked at the Arch Mage in fear. She was the one that should be angry, not him! He didn’t have to go around exploding random objects in the room. 'What a brute!'
The Arch Mage quickly turned his attention to a bookshelf against a side wall. She almost told him to let go of her a second time— not that the first had done her any good— but before she could, his grip had loosened. She looked down at his hand as his fingers slowly uncurled from her arm. Her pale skin was a bright white where he’d been holding her, though the pink in her flesh was steadily returning. He walked away, over to the shelves, picking up objects and placing them back down. The energy around him had changed from intense rage to something else, though it still seemed chaotic.
“How did you do that?” he asked her from across the room. He turned back to her, walking swiftly, though not with the same intent as before. He was in front of her once more, and his eyes shifted from looking at one of her eyes to the other. She wasn’t sure what he was doing. He looked as though he was searching for something, his distinct, hazel gaze was staring right into her. Once he asked her how she had caused the loud noise, she began to understand. ‘Right, that damned hex problem.’
He still had the needle in one hand and as he took her arm once more with his other, then he discovered what he hadn’t realized earlier. They’d already taken blood; more than once. His expression twisted as he released her, motioning for her other arm instead. “The other is less bruised, correct? My name is Arch Mage Argus. Please, explain how you broke my geode in half.” He presented her with a tone far more suitable to her mental state. She did what he wanted, giving him her better arm that she exposed to him so that he could draw her blood. His technique was far better than the ones of those from the Council. Oddly enough, she found him gentle with his motions. As Alice explained all that she knew, she finally took the time to study Argus’ figure.
So this was the man that would be teaching her? He was older than her as well as taller, but he wore both his age and height well. With hair neatly combed and a well groomed beard bordering his strong jawline, his face was incredibly attractive. His nose had seen a possible punch or two, she imagined, but the subtle imperfection gave him a slightly rugged appeal which only added to his overall attractiveness. As his hands gripped her less forcefully, working to collect the blood samples, she could feel the coarseness of his palms; he had a worker’s hands. Alice never imagined magical users to ever use their hands long enough to have calluses. But, as she glanced down, she took note of the small cuts and scrapes he wore, not to mention the older looking scars that had begun to blend in with the rest of his skin tone. His skin was darker than hers, which wasn’t a difficult accomplishment. But, it looked as though he spent a good deal of time out in the sun. Alice wondered if the manor was not always shrouded in the gray that she saw outside earlier on.
Her pale green eyes lifted to meet with his again. Looking into hers was like viewing a peridot gem while holding it up to the light. She considered him for another moment, determining he would be quite the irresistible man if he didn’t come off as such a dangerous person. Within the first ten minutes of meeting him, she was certain she had seen his true nature. He was a man that made rash decisions, had a temper that didn’t take a lot of coaxing out of him, and a tendency to harm. All of these things combined was enough for her to keep her guard up, despite his current, calm nature.
The loud noise was a geode? She wasn’t even sure she knew what a geode was. “I didn’t do it. But… things like that have been happening around me a lot recently.” she continued to speak to him, her tone cool as she grew more collected. She was frustrated and wanted him to know it. The hex. The key to her bakery. Sir Stanley. She told him everything she could think to say, though she wasn’t sure why she could so easily express herself to the man that suggested he might fillet her only moments before that. He seemed to be listening to her story, though he was focused on his work and the meticulous labeling of the vials of blood he’d obtained. “Oh no, not the bakery.” He said as he walked away from her to his desk, organizing the materials to his liking.
She wasn’t dense enough to miss the sarcasm heavily laced around his words regarding her bakery. Of course he didn’t understand her pain. How could he? He was the prime example of a spoiled, rich mage that could have anything he wanted with the snap of a finger. Because, in this world, that was what magic really meant for people. It wasn’t that magic would necessarily give a person something immediately but by just having the ability to use it, those people were automatically placed on a high pedestal.
“Mock me all you wish. How could you understand?” her question wasn’t really for him. She had muttered it to herself. He was still at his desk, but Alice found she wasn’t blind to the muscular tone of his shoulders and arms while he was turned away. She may have stared at him longer than she intended to. No, he was still dangerous and not an interest. Even if he did look— the way he looked. Alice huffed and shook her head to remove the thoughts.
Saving her from her own thoughts, an elderly woman with a face the shape of a turnip entered the room, her cane propped her up as she moved. The exchange between the mage and the woman was interesting enough; it gave hints of things that made her more curious than anything else, but such things were clearly not something she could simply ask about. He asked her to retrieve an elixir. What would he need an elixir for? Was he sick? This Beverly woman, as he called her, was less than pleased to have to deal with Alice. She considered telling them she was intelligent enough to take care of herself. Perhaps these people considered non-magic users to be completely incapable. It wouldn’t have been the first time such people were caught thinking such things. Neither of them were even calling her by her name. The term “Sack of potatoes” had been used several times.
“My name—” she interrupted with a strong voice, so that she was sure they could all hear, “Is Alice Madeline Stone. You may call me any variation of that, if you wish. However, I will not be referred to as a potato sack again. It is disrespectful and I have been nothing but, well, pleasant. So, just— Stop being so rude to me. I’m a person, with feelings. Just like you magic users. Perhaps consider the person you’re speaking of does have proper hearing.” The more she lectured, the more she sounded like a mother scolding her children. “I am a slight inconvenience to you now, yes. But soon you shall find a way to be rid of me, I’m sure. Meanwhile, my entire life has been ripped out from under my feet, so have some human decency.”
Neither of them seemed interested in what she was saying. They’d paused their chatter long enough to stare at her as she spoke, but soon the old woman had started speaking to the Arch Mage once more, whispering more quietly so that Alice could no longer understand. She then left his side, motioning for Alice to go with her. It was only then that the young lady realized Finn wasn't there. She wondered where he’d gone off to since he had been the only nice one to her thus far.
Alice turned and began to follow the old woman. It seemed Alice’s words were like water off of a duck's back as far as Mr. Argus was concerned. He was already prattling off about her smell and comparing her to a dead goblin. And what was that wink about? She definitely saw him wink before she’d turned away. Alice rolled her eyes. This was going to be a very difficult time in her life. A long road indeed.
Alice followed behind Beverly. She waddled along slowly enough that she had time to take in her surroundings. She tried her best to map out the places she had been in her head. The manor was so large it was quite possible she would find herself lost on more than one occasion. They stopped in front of a door that was cracked open and the woman pushed the door open the rest of the way with her cane. It was a washroom.
“Thank the Gods.” Alice said aloud before she realized she even had. It was all she had been longing for. “I really do know how to bathe myself, Ms. Beverly. I was taken away from my home and treated poorly for three days. Feel free to blame the Council for my current state.”
Alice wasn’t sure if Beverly had rolled her eyes under all of her wrinkles, but she felt as though that was the reaction she’d gotten. After some quick instructions about how to use the room, being directed to her towel and a gown to sleep in that she was certain did not come from her personal luggage, Alice nodded and shut herself into the washroom. She was already familiar with magically running water. Although her village was poorer, they were steadily advancing the area with such luxuries as the witch lights and easily accessed water.
Turning a cool, brass lever, water began to pour from a spout and into the clawfoot porcelain tub beneath it. The temperature was the most difficult thing to adjust but she managed to change it enough so that it wouldn’t melt off her flesh at the very least. With slender fingers, Alice grabbed either side of her dress, pulling it over her head and letting it fall down onto a heap on the floor. She slid off her shoes, simply shifting each foot in order to do so, then shimmied out of the rest of her undergarments. Sighing, she stretched her arms above her head, allowing her elbows and shoulders to pop as her breasts lifted and her stomach stretched upward, only just showing the suggestion of each of her ribs. She was no stick figure of a girl, however. Her body was curved with a full bosom and hips wider than her waist. Such a body was very much hidden in her everyday attire.
Her fingers picked at the tie that held her hair on top of her head, allowing it to cascade down in tangled red curls that brushed across her shoulders and down to just above the subtly pink nipples that gave her quite the perky look. A full length mirror gave her a full view of her body before it began to fog from the heat of the water. Alice intended to take her time, removing the layers of filth and grime from her last day of work and being stuck with Sir Stanley for all the time after that.
As her fingers ran along her soft skin, leaving trails of soapy bubbles down her arms and legs, she wondered what her new living situation was going to be like. She hoped her room had a lock. Her fingers lingered between her legs, slowly parting them as she continued to wash herself. They brushed along the more sensitive skin and as she shivered from her own touch she considered whether or not she should unwind in the water. She suspected the french bulldog of a woman was right outside of the door waiting for her. Listening. While being thorough enough to erase the stench of days from her body, Alice decided to hurry up and just rest once she got to her new bed.
After drying and sliding into a gown that was a little snug in places and more form fitting than she was used to, she barely dried her curls and opened the door. As she suspected, the woman was there, waiting to guide her to her room. Alice went to grab her old clothes off of the floor, but before she could, the woman tisked her and with a wave of her trembling, old hand, the clothes were gone. Alice blinked.
“Uh, right then. Thank you.”
Even her shoes had been banished along with her other belongings. A new pair of slippers was waiting for her just outside the door. “You didn’t have to go to all of this trouble—” she began. Again, the woman would hear nothing of it. Perhaps it wasn’t difficult to conjure away such clothing or create the gown and slippers she wore. Alice could only guess. Perhaps they belonged to the wife of the Arch Mage; the wife she’d imagined up in her head.
She was taken to a room to rest and told to expect supper to arrive within the hour. She hoped the time table of the meal suggested it wasn’t magically grown or conjured food.
He shifted in his chair, somehow broadening his shoulders as he leaned against his plush, red cushions behind him. He looked as though he was working to get something unstuck from a back tooth as she noticed the motion of his tongue against the inside of his cheek. With a hand raised, he motioned for her to move forward with his first two fingers. Alice glanced at Finn, but the servant’s attention was on the Arch Mage and she was on his blind side.
“Well, Miss Alice—” the mage began, pausing as he pushed his chair back, raising from the seat to approach her instead. “— Madeline Stone.” he finished saying her name and she nearly cringed. He spoke with such distaste. He practically hissed at her. “You’ve made this all so easy for me.” he continued, the sound of each step he took filled her ears like booming thunder. She felt them grow warmer— there was no way her ears hadn’t turned bright red and she knew it. “So, council spy, since we’ve established what you are and what you are not—” As he’d rounded his desk, his nimble fingers reached over to grasp a syringe.
“W-wait, what?” Alice’s first reaction was pure confusion. She took a step backwards as he approached her. Her focus shifted from his stare to the glint of a needle swinging around so effortlessly in his fingers. “I don’t understand what you mean. What would I be spying on?” she said, trying better to understand. His steps forward did not waiver and so she took another step back. She could feel panic building within her chest. She looked down to the inner joint of her arm, but the sleeve of her dress was just long enough to cover the spot.
“Come now, don’t waste my time. You’ve already admitted it to me. So, how shall I send you back to them? In pieces?”
She was still trying to wrap her mind around what he had suggested to her. A spy? Whatever gave him that impression about her? She was dirty, smelly and poorly dressed. She was not some impressionable mage student that could be molded by the council and sent to gather whatever information he assumed they wanted from such a place. Unless— Alice glanced around but saw no clear indications of dragons scampering about. Not to worry, there was still plenty of the manor to search. But this task was of her own choice and she would certainly be keeping any drake for herself in hopes of having the cutest, fiercest pet in the world. The council would never take her dragon!
With a final step forward, the Arch Mage closed the gap between the two of them and before Alice could react, he’d grabbed hold of her bruised arm, nearly pulling her entire body with it. After the initial shock and gasp that escaped her lips, Alice dared to step back again, even with the man capturing her arm so aggressively as she did. She could feel his rage bearing down on her, making the room heavy. She wasn’t sure if that was a magical effect or just her ability to read emotions well.
“Let me go—!” she said as she struggled against him. With the master of the house holding her arm hostage, she spiraled into a flood of memories she didn’t want to revisit. This wasn’t the first time she had been pinned by a man stronger than herself. Her eyes were wide, but it seemed as if she wasn’t present in the current situation. A loud sounding crack of something across the room snapped her out of the trance she was sinking slowly into and she nearly jumped out of her own skin. She looked at the Arch Mage in fear. She was the one that should be angry, not him! He didn’t have to go around exploding random objects in the room. 'What a brute!'
The Arch Mage quickly turned his attention to a bookshelf against a side wall. She almost told him to let go of her a second time— not that the first had done her any good— but before she could, his grip had loosened. She looked down at his hand as his fingers slowly uncurled from her arm. Her pale skin was a bright white where he’d been holding her, though the pink in her flesh was steadily returning. He walked away, over to the shelves, picking up objects and placing them back down. The energy around him had changed from intense rage to something else, though it still seemed chaotic.
“How did you do that?” he asked her from across the room. He turned back to her, walking swiftly, though not with the same intent as before. He was in front of her once more, and his eyes shifted from looking at one of her eyes to the other. She wasn’t sure what he was doing. He looked as though he was searching for something, his distinct, hazel gaze was staring right into her. Once he asked her how she had caused the loud noise, she began to understand. ‘Right, that damned hex problem.’
He still had the needle in one hand and as he took her arm once more with his other, then he discovered what he hadn’t realized earlier. They’d already taken blood; more than once. His expression twisted as he released her, motioning for her other arm instead. “The other is less bruised, correct? My name is Arch Mage Argus. Please, explain how you broke my geode in half.” He presented her with a tone far more suitable to her mental state. She did what he wanted, giving him her better arm that she exposed to him so that he could draw her blood. His technique was far better than the ones of those from the Council. Oddly enough, she found him gentle with his motions. As Alice explained all that she knew, she finally took the time to study Argus’ figure.
So this was the man that would be teaching her? He was older than her as well as taller, but he wore both his age and height well. With hair neatly combed and a well groomed beard bordering his strong jawline, his face was incredibly attractive. His nose had seen a possible punch or two, she imagined, but the subtle imperfection gave him a slightly rugged appeal which only added to his overall attractiveness. As his hands gripped her less forcefully, working to collect the blood samples, she could feel the coarseness of his palms; he had a worker’s hands. Alice never imagined magical users to ever use their hands long enough to have calluses. But, as she glanced down, she took note of the small cuts and scrapes he wore, not to mention the older looking scars that had begun to blend in with the rest of his skin tone. His skin was darker than hers, which wasn’t a difficult accomplishment. But, it looked as though he spent a good deal of time out in the sun. Alice wondered if the manor was not always shrouded in the gray that she saw outside earlier on.
Her pale green eyes lifted to meet with his again. Looking into hers was like viewing a peridot gem while holding it up to the light. She considered him for another moment, determining he would be quite the irresistible man if he didn’t come off as such a dangerous person. Within the first ten minutes of meeting him, she was certain she had seen his true nature. He was a man that made rash decisions, had a temper that didn’t take a lot of coaxing out of him, and a tendency to harm. All of these things combined was enough for her to keep her guard up, despite his current, calm nature.
The loud noise was a geode? She wasn’t even sure she knew what a geode was. “I didn’t do it. But… things like that have been happening around me a lot recently.” she continued to speak to him, her tone cool as she grew more collected. She was frustrated and wanted him to know it. The hex. The key to her bakery. Sir Stanley. She told him everything she could think to say, though she wasn’t sure why she could so easily express herself to the man that suggested he might fillet her only moments before that. He seemed to be listening to her story, though he was focused on his work and the meticulous labeling of the vials of blood he’d obtained. “Oh no, not the bakery.” He said as he walked away from her to his desk, organizing the materials to his liking.
She wasn’t dense enough to miss the sarcasm heavily laced around his words regarding her bakery. Of course he didn’t understand her pain. How could he? He was the prime example of a spoiled, rich mage that could have anything he wanted with the snap of a finger. Because, in this world, that was what magic really meant for people. It wasn’t that magic would necessarily give a person something immediately but by just having the ability to use it, those people were automatically placed on a high pedestal.
“Mock me all you wish. How could you understand?” her question wasn’t really for him. She had muttered it to herself. He was still at his desk, but Alice found she wasn’t blind to the muscular tone of his shoulders and arms while he was turned away. She may have stared at him longer than she intended to. No, he was still dangerous and not an interest. Even if he did look— the way he looked. Alice huffed and shook her head to remove the thoughts.
Saving her from her own thoughts, an elderly woman with a face the shape of a turnip entered the room, her cane propped her up as she moved. The exchange between the mage and the woman was interesting enough; it gave hints of things that made her more curious than anything else, but such things were clearly not something she could simply ask about. He asked her to retrieve an elixir. What would he need an elixir for? Was he sick? This Beverly woman, as he called her, was less than pleased to have to deal with Alice. She considered telling them she was intelligent enough to take care of herself. Perhaps these people considered non-magic users to be completely incapable. It wouldn’t have been the first time such people were caught thinking such things. Neither of them were even calling her by her name. The term “Sack of potatoes” had been used several times.
“My name—” she interrupted with a strong voice, so that she was sure they could all hear, “Is Alice Madeline Stone. You may call me any variation of that, if you wish. However, I will not be referred to as a potato sack again. It is disrespectful and I have been nothing but, well, pleasant. So, just— Stop being so rude to me. I’m a person, with feelings. Just like you magic users. Perhaps consider the person you’re speaking of does have proper hearing.” The more she lectured, the more she sounded like a mother scolding her children. “I am a slight inconvenience to you now, yes. But soon you shall find a way to be rid of me, I’m sure. Meanwhile, my entire life has been ripped out from under my feet, so have some human decency.”
Neither of them seemed interested in what she was saying. They’d paused their chatter long enough to stare at her as she spoke, but soon the old woman had started speaking to the Arch Mage once more, whispering more quietly so that Alice could no longer understand. She then left his side, motioning for Alice to go with her. It was only then that the young lady realized Finn wasn't there. She wondered where he’d gone off to since he had been the only nice one to her thus far.
Alice turned and began to follow the old woman. It seemed Alice’s words were like water off of a duck's back as far as Mr. Argus was concerned. He was already prattling off about her smell and comparing her to a dead goblin. And what was that wink about? She definitely saw him wink before she’d turned away. Alice rolled her eyes. This was going to be a very difficult time in her life. A long road indeed.
Alice followed behind Beverly. She waddled along slowly enough that she had time to take in her surroundings. She tried her best to map out the places she had been in her head. The manor was so large it was quite possible she would find herself lost on more than one occasion. They stopped in front of a door that was cracked open and the woman pushed the door open the rest of the way with her cane. It was a washroom.
“Thank the Gods.” Alice said aloud before she realized she even had. It was all she had been longing for. “I really do know how to bathe myself, Ms. Beverly. I was taken away from my home and treated poorly for three days. Feel free to blame the Council for my current state.”
Alice wasn’t sure if Beverly had rolled her eyes under all of her wrinkles, but she felt as though that was the reaction she’d gotten. After some quick instructions about how to use the room, being directed to her towel and a gown to sleep in that she was certain did not come from her personal luggage, Alice nodded and shut herself into the washroom. She was already familiar with magically running water. Although her village was poorer, they were steadily advancing the area with such luxuries as the witch lights and easily accessed water.
Turning a cool, brass lever, water began to pour from a spout and into the clawfoot porcelain tub beneath it. The temperature was the most difficult thing to adjust but she managed to change it enough so that it wouldn’t melt off her flesh at the very least. With slender fingers, Alice grabbed either side of her dress, pulling it over her head and letting it fall down onto a heap on the floor. She slid off her shoes, simply shifting each foot in order to do so, then shimmied out of the rest of her undergarments. Sighing, she stretched her arms above her head, allowing her elbows and shoulders to pop as her breasts lifted and her stomach stretched upward, only just showing the suggestion of each of her ribs. She was no stick figure of a girl, however. Her body was curved with a full bosom and hips wider than her waist. Such a body was very much hidden in her everyday attire.
Her fingers picked at the tie that held her hair on top of her head, allowing it to cascade down in tangled red curls that brushed across her shoulders and down to just above the subtly pink nipples that gave her quite the perky look. A full length mirror gave her a full view of her body before it began to fog from the heat of the water. Alice intended to take her time, removing the layers of filth and grime from her last day of work and being stuck with Sir Stanley for all the time after that.
As her fingers ran along her soft skin, leaving trails of soapy bubbles down her arms and legs, she wondered what her new living situation was going to be like. She hoped her room had a lock. Her fingers lingered between her legs, slowly parting them as she continued to wash herself. They brushed along the more sensitive skin and as she shivered from her own touch she considered whether or not she should unwind in the water. She suspected the french bulldog of a woman was right outside of the door waiting for her. Listening. While being thorough enough to erase the stench of days from her body, Alice decided to hurry up and just rest once she got to her new bed.
After drying and sliding into a gown that was a little snug in places and more form fitting than she was used to, she barely dried her curls and opened the door. As she suspected, the woman was there, waiting to guide her to her room. Alice went to grab her old clothes off of the floor, but before she could, the woman tisked her and with a wave of her trembling, old hand, the clothes were gone. Alice blinked.
“Uh, right then. Thank you.”
Even her shoes had been banished along with her other belongings. A new pair of slippers was waiting for her just outside the door. “You didn’t have to go to all of this trouble—” she began. Again, the woman would hear nothing of it. Perhaps it wasn’t difficult to conjure away such clothing or create the gown and slippers she wore. Alice could only guess. Perhaps they belonged to the wife of the Arch Mage; the wife she’d imagined up in her head.
She was taken to a room to rest and told to expect supper to arrive within the hour. She hoped the time table of the meal suggested it wasn’t magically grown or conjured food.
OP
OP
- Joined
- Mar 18, 2019
Alice familiarized herself with her new room while she waited for food. She avoided the rather large, plush looking bed that beckoned her to come hither, knowing the moment she even thought to touch it she would fall into a deep slumber and would miss out on eating a real meal. Instead, Alice studied the intricate woodworking of the bed frame itself. The legs spanned out several inches to look like tree roots while the foot of the bed was bordered with what appeared to be branches reaching up and out. At the very head of the bed, which was quite remarkable, it looked as though the branches shot up toward the ceiling, reaching forward to cover the mattress in a canopy of leaves from above. Surely it wasn’t a real tree, though, right? The leaves swayed and shook as though she was standing outside with a soft breeze flowing across a valley where it was only her and that tree, and yet, there was no breeze at all. In such a moment, Alice allowed herself to smile. This was magical. She loved everything about it and wished she could meet the woodworker that crafted such a masterpiece.
Her gaze left the bed to drink in the rest of the room. Overall it was dark and cold. It looked as though it was dusted recently, perhaps that was an easy spell to cast. Alice always had to clean by hand, so what did she know? She stepped over a rich green rug, glancing down as it, too, seemed to move like blades of grass in the wind. How enchanting. There was a dresser that looked like a sturdy, wooden chest with intricate carvings of vines that wandered up and around to the various knobs that were shaped like roses.
Even with all of its beauty, the room held a heavy atmosphere that felt like the gravity was amplified a little too much. The need to sink into the bed only grew stronger. Pacing toward a window that looked out toward the back of the property, Alice opened the shutter that covered the windows and looked out, only finding unidentifiable shapes of hopefully trees and various other shadows. The darkness had rolled in quickly and nestled along the land without any moonlight to offer clues about this unknown. She frowned, but continued to try to discern what it was she saw. She leaned forward, standing on her toes to better see down more directly, but that too, offered no help.
A chipper, high pitched voice sang at her door. Alice jumped. She turned, looking at the door. She never did inspect it to see if it locked. Another time, the voice called out. It sounded like a hyper little Elfling, or some other small creature, if she wasn’t mistaken. There were times some of them would come to the bakery to purchase goods for their masters. As the voice attempted to get her to come to the door again, Alice quickly opened it only to find that no one was there. A platter was sitting on a tray, waiting for her. She leaned out, peering either way down the halls. Witch-lights bobbed lightly up and down as if they were floating along a river, but there was no sight of any being. Alice picked up the tray, finding a small table that could sit two comfortably in the corner of the room. She then went back to close the bedroom door, noticing that the tray the platter sat upon had vanished. Alice glanced behind her inside of her room, hoping nothing was hiding in there, waiting to jump out and frighten her. The past few days had been troublesome enough. Her fingers clutched the handle of the door pulling it shut. She found it did have a lock. ‘Good, then. . . at least there’s that…’ she thought.
Alice sat at the small table, enjoying a fantastically cooked meal. The food — thank the Gods! — was real. With the lift of the lid, the steam that carried the warm scent of lamb and carrots billowed up toward her nostrils, causing her to inhale deeply with a heavy sigh of an exhale following it. She savored every bite, trying her best not to waste any of what was given to her. She wondered where they purchased their produce from, as she ate. Alice’s mind drifted to the thoughts of finding ingredients for a simple bread recipe, noticing there was no roll with her meal. Her thoughts drifted further into a mist of randomness and she dragged herself over to the bed. Just as she expected, it lulled her off to sleep. Perhaps it was the loopiness of an overly tired Alice, but she was even sure the bed, itself, swayed as if it were a large branch of a tree.
Alice wasn’t positive how long she had slept. There was no real indication of time that she could visibly see. She, being an early riser, was always up before the morning light. She attempted to open the shutter of her window like before, but it wouldn’t budge. It was particularly odd that it might have been stuck when it worked perfectly fine hours before that. She fumbled around in the low light of the room. She could see decently enough, but the witch light was dimmed to almost nothing and she couldn’t recall seeing any candles around to light one manually with a match. She sighed. Her food tray was still sitting on the table, so at the very least, she could tell herself no one had tampered with the room while she was sleeping. She wondered what she should do with it though.
Returning to the door of her room, she unlocked it and looked back out into the hall. It seemed creepier than it had before. Chills ran up her spine and she shut it, holding her hand against the hardwood for a moment. Her heart was throbbing with sudden anxiety.
“Get it together. It’s fine. People live here and they clearly haven’t been murdered from some hallway evil spirit.”
She wandered back to the bed. Normally she would go down stairs and turn on the ovens, but she wasn’t home. She didn’t even know where the kitchen was. What was she supposed to do with her time all while stuck in the dark? Alice laid back with her head on a plush pillow trying to make out the leaves that still softly swayed up above. It was at least relaxing. Perhaps she could think of it like a vacation. Or something. Alice rolled onto her side as she pulled a blanket up over her frame. First thing she wanted to do was find a candle. Or at least her bag. She never did look for it the previous night and there was no sense in doing so then either.
Several hours had gone by, probably. Alice had attempted to sleep, nearly succeeded, only to startle herself awake again thinking she might be burning something. She groaned and pushed herself out of the bed once more. Pacing was her next plan of action. Alice went to and fro, just waiting for something in the room to change. It seemed not long after she had begun that the bed trembled against the floor. The grass-like rug grew longer and wrapped around her ankles as if trying to hold her captive. Alice froze the way most girls would if they’d seen a bug. She looked down, and as she did, the witch lights in her room blasted with the brightness of two suns. They flickered in and out as suddenly her shutter was no longer stuck, but smashing open and shut against the sill instead. Her door, along with the dresser doors followed suit and with all things considered, perhaps the rug was trying to keep her safe.
Alice, much like a startled woodland creature, stood wide-eyed in the middle of the room. A loud scream sounded from somewhere below and she hugged her arms against her chest. Her sight was splotched with black spots and her ears rang from the rebelling homestead. “Never mind. People get murdered here every day. I was wrong…” she muttered. She was attempting to joke, to make herself laugh, but humor was often best served to others, not oneself.
As the manor settled down, Alice felt the rug release her. Her chest was tight and she wasn’t entirely sure she was even breathing anymore. She dropped to her knees, sitting on the floor like a broken doll, abandoned for all eternity. What was wrong with this place? After a knock on the door and instructions she was sure she would somehow get wrong, Alice pushed herself up off of the floor with trembling arms.
Alice searched for her bag as she stood in place. She didn’t see it right away, though she wasn’t feeling willing to give the room a more thorough look. She slowly took a step toward the dresser, poking it with a singular finger to test whether or not it would fly open at her. Nothing budged. Slowly, Alice added more fingers onto the rose knob before she wrapped her grip around it to pull it open. To her surprise, the drawer was nearly empty with all but a folded note inside. As she lifted the paper, the drawer filled with the same blood red colors of the uniforms the house servants wore. Startled by clothing that appeared like a sink backing up with old water, she jumped back. Alice looked at the note, unfolding it to see the written words inside of it.
“Alice”
That was it? She flipped the card over in her hands several times. There was nothing more. Alice pushed through the folded clothing, looking for anything other than red. She hated wearing red, it didn’t go well with her frustrating hair; the tones were noticeably different. She frowned and chose to stay in the night gown she had slept in, which was a simple white. There was a long, grey cloak that hung on a hook near the door in which she used like a robe to cover herself. She didn’t bother with the hood, of course. She wasn't going to wear servant clothing. She would just find her bag.
Barely dressed with slippers on her feet, Alice opened her door, ready to ask for the whereabouts of her clothing. It was possible they hadn’t made it into her room yet, or perhaps she had missed them. Shutting her door upon her exit, she turned and went in what she hoped was the proper direction. Her footfalls were soft as she padded down the hallway. As she took another step, she found she needed to place her hand against the wall beside her. It felt as though someone was squeezing her head and causing her vision to strain. She steadied her footing as she looked around nervously. Everything seemed fine. She took several more steps forward, and although the stairs were in sight moments ago, with what felt like another dizzy spell, they were suddenly a field’s length away from her. Alice turned back to find the room to her door, but as she moved back, it made no difference. Every which way was pulling itself away from her. She spun, trying to find anything to focus on.
“Just. . . just get to the next thing you… the next door…” panic was settling in again. She mustered up the strength to move forward. There was a doorway in sight. Even so, she just couldn’t reach it fully. A cool mist coiled around her, chilling her to the bone. She looked down to find wisps of fog spinning around her ankle like a snake. What was it with this manor and things grabbing onto her feet?
"Tell me about your accidents, Alice! When was the first one?" a shrill voice cut through the air.
The voice broke her silent horror and she spun, only just then noticing a painting on the wall. Had that always been there? She tried to remember but it hadn’t been something she’d bothered to notice earlier on. Alice felt her leg growing colder. Her toes were practically frozen while the chill moved up to her knee. Perhaps she should have opted for the red suits after all. Alice tried to pull her leg free from something that shouldn’t have been able to hold her in the first place. She tugged with such force that although her leg stayed tethered, the rest of her fell down onto the cold, hard floor. Her leg, slowly being devoured, was far too distracting for her to listen to some pompous painting that taunted her with words of accidents. What accidents?
The chill expanded and began to consume her other leg. She whimpered as she attempted to drag herself away with her hands along the never ending floors of the halls. It hadn’t even occurred to her to call for help. Perhaps it was just the idea of finding herself in a crimson suited murder house that had her in such a mindset. Alice pulled the cloak close to her body for warmth. The fabric flew over her and the mist recoiled away from it. Alice, suddenly hopeful, took the cloak in her hand once more, flinging it out and over her feet. The mist retreated, hissing as it did. Alice, legs still frozen and heavy, covered herself in her cloak from head to toe, curling herself into a ball in hopes to just stay there until she was hopefully found.
Her gaze left the bed to drink in the rest of the room. Overall it was dark and cold. It looked as though it was dusted recently, perhaps that was an easy spell to cast. Alice always had to clean by hand, so what did she know? She stepped over a rich green rug, glancing down as it, too, seemed to move like blades of grass in the wind. How enchanting. There was a dresser that looked like a sturdy, wooden chest with intricate carvings of vines that wandered up and around to the various knobs that were shaped like roses.
Even with all of its beauty, the room held a heavy atmosphere that felt like the gravity was amplified a little too much. The need to sink into the bed only grew stronger. Pacing toward a window that looked out toward the back of the property, Alice opened the shutter that covered the windows and looked out, only finding unidentifiable shapes of hopefully trees and various other shadows. The darkness had rolled in quickly and nestled along the land without any moonlight to offer clues about this unknown. She frowned, but continued to try to discern what it was she saw. She leaned forward, standing on her toes to better see down more directly, but that too, offered no help.
A chipper, high pitched voice sang at her door. Alice jumped. She turned, looking at the door. She never did inspect it to see if it locked. Another time, the voice called out. It sounded like a hyper little Elfling, or some other small creature, if she wasn’t mistaken. There were times some of them would come to the bakery to purchase goods for their masters. As the voice attempted to get her to come to the door again, Alice quickly opened it only to find that no one was there. A platter was sitting on a tray, waiting for her. She leaned out, peering either way down the halls. Witch-lights bobbed lightly up and down as if they were floating along a river, but there was no sight of any being. Alice picked up the tray, finding a small table that could sit two comfortably in the corner of the room. She then went back to close the bedroom door, noticing that the tray the platter sat upon had vanished. Alice glanced behind her inside of her room, hoping nothing was hiding in there, waiting to jump out and frighten her. The past few days had been troublesome enough. Her fingers clutched the handle of the door pulling it shut. She found it did have a lock. ‘Good, then. . . at least there’s that…’ she thought.
Alice sat at the small table, enjoying a fantastically cooked meal. The food — thank the Gods! — was real. With the lift of the lid, the steam that carried the warm scent of lamb and carrots billowed up toward her nostrils, causing her to inhale deeply with a heavy sigh of an exhale following it. She savored every bite, trying her best not to waste any of what was given to her. She wondered where they purchased their produce from, as she ate. Alice’s mind drifted to the thoughts of finding ingredients for a simple bread recipe, noticing there was no roll with her meal. Her thoughts drifted further into a mist of randomness and she dragged herself over to the bed. Just as she expected, it lulled her off to sleep. Perhaps it was the loopiness of an overly tired Alice, but she was even sure the bed, itself, swayed as if it were a large branch of a tree.
Alice wasn’t positive how long she had slept. There was no real indication of time that she could visibly see. She, being an early riser, was always up before the morning light. She attempted to open the shutter of her window like before, but it wouldn’t budge. It was particularly odd that it might have been stuck when it worked perfectly fine hours before that. She fumbled around in the low light of the room. She could see decently enough, but the witch light was dimmed to almost nothing and she couldn’t recall seeing any candles around to light one manually with a match. She sighed. Her food tray was still sitting on the table, so at the very least, she could tell herself no one had tampered with the room while she was sleeping. She wondered what she should do with it though.
Returning to the door of her room, she unlocked it and looked back out into the hall. It seemed creepier than it had before. Chills ran up her spine and she shut it, holding her hand against the hardwood for a moment. Her heart was throbbing with sudden anxiety.
“Get it together. It’s fine. People live here and they clearly haven’t been murdered from some hallway evil spirit.”
She wandered back to the bed. Normally she would go down stairs and turn on the ovens, but she wasn’t home. She didn’t even know where the kitchen was. What was she supposed to do with her time all while stuck in the dark? Alice laid back with her head on a plush pillow trying to make out the leaves that still softly swayed up above. It was at least relaxing. Perhaps she could think of it like a vacation. Or something. Alice rolled onto her side as she pulled a blanket up over her frame. First thing she wanted to do was find a candle. Or at least her bag. She never did look for it the previous night and there was no sense in doing so then either.
Several hours had gone by, probably. Alice had attempted to sleep, nearly succeeded, only to startle herself awake again thinking she might be burning something. She groaned and pushed herself out of the bed once more. Pacing was her next plan of action. Alice went to and fro, just waiting for something in the room to change. It seemed not long after she had begun that the bed trembled against the floor. The grass-like rug grew longer and wrapped around her ankles as if trying to hold her captive. Alice froze the way most girls would if they’d seen a bug. She looked down, and as she did, the witch lights in her room blasted with the brightness of two suns. They flickered in and out as suddenly her shutter was no longer stuck, but smashing open and shut against the sill instead. Her door, along with the dresser doors followed suit and with all things considered, perhaps the rug was trying to keep her safe.
Alice, much like a startled woodland creature, stood wide-eyed in the middle of the room. A loud scream sounded from somewhere below and she hugged her arms against her chest. Her sight was splotched with black spots and her ears rang from the rebelling homestead. “Never mind. People get murdered here every day. I was wrong…” she muttered. She was attempting to joke, to make herself laugh, but humor was often best served to others, not oneself.
As the manor settled down, Alice felt the rug release her. Her chest was tight and she wasn’t entirely sure she was even breathing anymore. She dropped to her knees, sitting on the floor like a broken doll, abandoned for all eternity. What was wrong with this place? After a knock on the door and instructions she was sure she would somehow get wrong, Alice pushed herself up off of the floor with trembling arms.
Alice searched for her bag as she stood in place. She didn’t see it right away, though she wasn’t feeling willing to give the room a more thorough look. She slowly took a step toward the dresser, poking it with a singular finger to test whether or not it would fly open at her. Nothing budged. Slowly, Alice added more fingers onto the rose knob before she wrapped her grip around it to pull it open. To her surprise, the drawer was nearly empty with all but a folded note inside. As she lifted the paper, the drawer filled with the same blood red colors of the uniforms the house servants wore. Startled by clothing that appeared like a sink backing up with old water, she jumped back. Alice looked at the note, unfolding it to see the written words inside of it.
“Alice”
That was it? She flipped the card over in her hands several times. There was nothing more. Alice pushed through the folded clothing, looking for anything other than red. She hated wearing red, it didn’t go well with her frustrating hair; the tones were noticeably different. She frowned and chose to stay in the night gown she had slept in, which was a simple white. There was a long, grey cloak that hung on a hook near the door in which she used like a robe to cover herself. She didn’t bother with the hood, of course. She wasn't going to wear servant clothing. She would just find her bag.
Barely dressed with slippers on her feet, Alice opened her door, ready to ask for the whereabouts of her clothing. It was possible they hadn’t made it into her room yet, or perhaps she had missed them. Shutting her door upon her exit, she turned and went in what she hoped was the proper direction. Her footfalls were soft as she padded down the hallway. As she took another step, she found she needed to place her hand against the wall beside her. It felt as though someone was squeezing her head and causing her vision to strain. She steadied her footing as she looked around nervously. Everything seemed fine. She took several more steps forward, and although the stairs were in sight moments ago, with what felt like another dizzy spell, they were suddenly a field’s length away from her. Alice turned back to find the room to her door, but as she moved back, it made no difference. Every which way was pulling itself away from her. She spun, trying to find anything to focus on.
“Just. . . just get to the next thing you… the next door…” panic was settling in again. She mustered up the strength to move forward. There was a doorway in sight. Even so, she just couldn’t reach it fully. A cool mist coiled around her, chilling her to the bone. She looked down to find wisps of fog spinning around her ankle like a snake. What was it with this manor and things grabbing onto her feet?
"Tell me about your accidents, Alice! When was the first one?" a shrill voice cut through the air.
The voice broke her silent horror and she spun, only just then noticing a painting on the wall. Had that always been there? She tried to remember but it hadn’t been something she’d bothered to notice earlier on. Alice felt her leg growing colder. Her toes were practically frozen while the chill moved up to her knee. Perhaps she should have opted for the red suits after all. Alice tried to pull her leg free from something that shouldn’t have been able to hold her in the first place. She tugged with such force that although her leg stayed tethered, the rest of her fell down onto the cold, hard floor. Her leg, slowly being devoured, was far too distracting for her to listen to some pompous painting that taunted her with words of accidents. What accidents?
The chill expanded and began to consume her other leg. She whimpered as she attempted to drag herself away with her hands along the never ending floors of the halls. It hadn’t even occurred to her to call for help. Perhaps it was just the idea of finding herself in a crimson suited murder house that had her in such a mindset. Alice pulled the cloak close to her body for warmth. The fabric flew over her and the mist recoiled away from it. Alice, suddenly hopeful, took the cloak in her hand once more, flinging it out and over her feet. The mist retreated, hissing as it did. Alice, legs still frozen and heavy, covered herself in her cloak from head to toe, curling herself into a ball in hopes to just stay there until she was hopefully found.