Emissary of the Three Worlds (Tagged: kikora & Tsushui)

[Delectatio Morosa]

There were mornings where she was certain that she could feel every second of every moment of each year that she had lived out so far, and were she to be honest –even if only to her self –those mornings had become more and more frequent in recent days. However, despite a night spent in a flurry of motion and activity that hadn’t reach an end until the grey hours of near dawn, as she watched the sun make its gradual sojourn in the distant horizon from her bedroom window, she still found that her energy from the night before had not waned. It was, as she saw it, early evidence of the wisdom in her decision to introduce a new resident into her household. Of course, as with all things, its longevity would need to be tested against time; however, if there were two things that Sorcha Gale Ó Faoláin possessed they were good instincts –and time.

Rising from where she had sat within the deep-set arch of her bedroom window, she turned her thoughts away from matters of past and present, and sought about searching her wardrobe for suitable clothing. The smells of breakfast wafting from the kitchen several floors below was, admittedly, her greatest source of motivation for making haste with her ablutions. The appetite that had once gained her family a certain degree of notoriety had not passed her by, and if there were any affairs of which Sorcha refused to be fashionably late they would be breakfast, lunch, and dinner. With a glance at her reflection in the mirror to gauge the acceptability of her appearance, she was out the door and treading lightly towards her kitchen, and the various scents of delicious promise it emanated.

Marie, her servant of several years, had shown promise as a cook early into her incorporation into the Ó Faoláin household, and, as with many others, she had quickly proven to be an example of the instincts that often acted as Sorcha’s guide in absence of more exact information, or guarantees of certainty. Beyond that Marie had more than demonstrated her capabilities in directing the ebb and flow of activity in a homestead that for many would seem overwhelming, even with the addition of her daughter Tara. It was for that reason, and countless others, that the use of formalities and titles between them had given way to an almost familial arrangement more often than not.

As such, little thought was placed in her appearance within the kitchen where the red headed cook was busy at work in creating the smells of breakfast that had so predictably lured her, neither was any glance of surprise turned her way when she seated herself at the small table that had once been for the use of the house servants alone. Her presence there had, like so many other unconventional habits, become a customary aspect of a very uncustomary household. Tilting her chair back from the table slightly, her eyes followed the movements of the cook; a slight chuckle escaping her when the woman took the time to reproach her for her posture at the table.

Marie, her daughter, and anyone else who was either in her service or under her influence through some means or another, they were not just hers to command, they were also hers to protect. Given the many challenges and dangers of the task that had been left to her, it was little wonder that she would have become so wearied and overburdened. Thoughts once more turning to her home’s newest addition, her eyes likewise turned away from Marie as she readied her breakfast, and towards the door that led one in and out of the kitchen as if they could peer through the aged wood and locate the individual who currently held her mind’s private musings.

Time only could tell her whether her instincts had been correct, and until then she could only trust in them and, subsequently, also in the man who was now charged with assisting her in protecting her own. For as important to her as her responsibility to them was, she had also been forced to acknowledge that eventually she would no longer be able to defend against the vulnerability presented by her singularity. Regardless of the arguments to the contrary that she knew those of her house would have launched (and indeed had launched in the case of Marie), she knew that she needed the help that her new resident could provide, but more importantly, she needed to be able to place even more faith than usual in her instincts that he would be able to aid her in defending those most significant in her life. Despite all of that; however, Sorcha had to wonder whether her greatest challenge would be in trusting his skill enough to leave him fully in charge of her people, or in doing so while also concealing from him the reasons why.

Time would tell; slowly, and with the penchant for storytelling she knew it to have, but eventually time would have to tell –it was never very good at keeping secrets.

 

[Tsushui]

There were certain days Damien wondered if he was made a slave, not because he was more than willing to go against the submissive nature but rather his certain masochistic tendencies. He recalled, on the day of his purchase, giving due warning to the one he now called ‘Mistress’ but he had forgotten to question the terms on her end. The agreement never included the possibility of catering to children – two adolescents at that – during his infinite period of servitude. As the bustling increased in the lower levels of the manor, now more familiar having graced it for a week, the demon knew that it could have been much worse.

It was time to get out of bed. If anything, he was a being that can adapt to changes fairly quickly. On the first day, he learnt to never shop for more than three hours in a clothing store located in a small village in Ireland. On the second day, he realized that it is best to awaken in time lest Marie decides to fetch him in his birthday suit. On the third day, he found out that getting out of bed later than the teenagers meant breakfast is sparse. For the rest of the week, Damien found out Sorcha’s policy of equal work and play as he spent most of his days doing lighter chores while his nights are dedicated to patrolling her vast lands.

Rising quietly out of bed and off to go about his daily hygiene necessities, it took a mere fifteen minutes to get ready, buttoned shirt and pants completed with a secured patch upon his left eye. The mystery behind his unorthodox pirate-like appearance had occasionally been the jokes of one of the children that dwelled in the mansion. It belonged to a certain redhead who seldom has anything good to say but blabber on about everything that fits her mood. Naturally, given his own lack of patience for anything below the age of eighteen, the incubus has yet found enough generosity within him to satisfy her curiosities – no matter how scandalous they might be. There was a famous saying: “When trouble comes, they come not in single spies but in batallions.” Indeed, behind the shadow of that very annoying little girl, is the form of a very stubborn little boy who insisted his servitude was not required.

Tucking his leathery appendage out of sight, Damien made his way casually towards the lower floors, allowing his senses to guide him towards the kitchen. Swinging the doors that led to the aromatic room, he was unsure if he should be surprised to see his mistress perched on her seat, surrounded by the gratifying meal before them yet, staring at him expectantly. Were he any less confident in Marie’s culinary skills, he would have guessed that Sorcha had just decidedly become cannibalistic. Raising a brow at the still form of the silvery-hair woman, he slipped past the cook to grab a plate to pick a few pieces of bacon from the pan.

Pinching a crispy piece between his long fingers, he made sure Marie’s back was turned before waving the bit before the idle woman. If there was anything he learned about Sorcha upon meeting her, it was her love for food. His first meal with her was breakfast and his contract was signed over a hefty feast. As such, Damien was careful to pick out the longest piece of bacon lest his fingers are at stake. “Good morning.” He began amusedly. Of all things, the incubus is attracting a female through a food offering.

 

[Kikora]

Had Teyha been wiser, she would have very seriously questioned her living conditions before accepting a young man's invitation to 'stay at his home'. Barely sixteen herself, the boy was a good year or two younger than she, and while his intentions seemed well placed, the way he went about 'providing' for her left much to be desired.

Always a gentleman, the younger boy never once laid a finger on her, but after a long week of his company she had to wonder if this kindness was out of chivalry, or simply because the child viewed her as no different from the various other livestock he was in charge of caring for. In fact, rather than taking her straight to the adults of the home to request she formally live there, he was quick to bustle her into the same pungent barn that the mistresses horses were housed in. Like a little lost puppy he was trying to hide away he brought her scraps from the table, and she washed herself at night with a pilfered bar of soap she had demanded he bring, and the hose used to water his animals. Not that either did much to remove the constant sharp smell of dunk and straw from her skin or clothes.

Not that she had much room to complain, Teyha had to remind herself sharply. This time spent tucked away with farm animals might not be ideal for her, but at the very least it shut out rain, and even leftovers off the kids plate beat no food at all. After all, what did she expect when she ran away during a school trip overseas? Random strangers opening their doors to a strange little American girl? Especially when the news concerning the lost schoolgirl was still at a high, her meager disguise of blackened, shortened hair and a far more narrow frame would do nothing to help her blend in to this land. Her efforts to learn at least the lyrical sound of the native tongue from a friend back home had ended so terribly that the girl wisely abandoned the idea all together.

"Doesn't mean I can't still be grouchy." The girl said outloud, the sound of her own voice echoing off wooden walls enough to make the girl bolt to her feet and glance around herself nervously. "And now I am paranoid." With a groan she made her way to the ladder to climb down from the loft. Hanging from a hook was her bag, and she first withdrew a water bottle, washing her hands and face with the cool water before she dove in for her own breakfast. After a less than satisfying meal the night before Teyha found herself sneaking unseen into the kitchen to raid the fridge before hurrying back to her hideaway before she could be caught and named a thief.

She ate a few bites quickly, all but stuffing a the fluffy pieces of buttered bread into her mouth while taking one of her knives to a juicy and fresh apple. The rest of her meal would come after the boy finished eating his own, but at least the grip of hunger had mostly passed for the moment. Satisfied the girl simply went through her own morning routine, passing the long hours by helping the young man in his own chores. A relatively small gesture in return for any kind of a home, but it certainly beat lazing about through the course of the morning, an unknown burden to the bustling house and those who occupy it.