I was inspired to write this story after reading one that I love to bits. It's a WIP and is subject to change, although currently I don't think I will change it. I don't want to give too much away, so just bear with me for this first chapter and tell me what you think! Comments are appreciated very much :)

Chapter One

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Forelone Manor had to be the most pitiful thing on this godforsaken land that I had ever seen. Of course, it was beautiful, like many of the other manors that were built in Bevelle. The mansion was nothing short of perfection; a three story beauty with dark brick coating the outside like wrapping on a chocolate bar. The fountain in the front, the hedges and the garden work, even the front steps, were filled with such detail that it was impossible to imagine that such a lowly human being would live inside of it.

I've been to Forelone Manor many times. I've walked into the warm, cream coloured rooms. I've sat on the grand staircase that was decorated with flecks of gold. I've sketched in the backyard amongst the orchids and bushes, birds flying in the air as the sun shown down on me.

And you must wonder; if this place is truly as beautiful as it sounds, why do I hate it?

Because it is an empty, lonely place; as beautiful as it is, the moment you step inside everything within you curls up and begs to leave. The amount of sadness and despair that lingers is enough to kill you – or worse – drive you insane. I don't know how long Forelone Manor has been this way, but it drives me crazy just thinking about it. I wouldn't visit this place so often if I didn't have to.

Which brings me to your next question; what kept making me come back?

I'd like to say that I am only here because of my work, but that would be a lie. When I first stepped into Forelone Manor, I knew something was off. I felt everything that I have just described to you, and yet, I didn't want to leave. Why? Because it's owner – so solitary and cold – intrigues me. I bring myself to ask these questions almost every time I think about it; what could make a man shut off his emotions almost entirely? What could turn him so cold? How is it that someone could live in the shadows for their whole life? How could someone cut themselves off from human nature completely?

I could never answer these questions. I lacked any background knowledge to even make judgements on what situation could have arisen. Walking up the front path, my eyes glided across the bushes, trimmed diligently by Wakka, the only caretaker I've ever seen working at the Manor. In fact I could see the crazy preacher's bright red hair, pushed back with a blue bandana as he perched alongside a rose bush. He was trimming loose twigs with a pair of large shears and didn't look up to greet me. I walked past him and to the steps, grateful that I was doing without a moral lesson of Yevon for today.

"You're late, Gippal."

My eyes darted from the steps below my feet to the voice that spoke to my left. I almost scoffed at the sight – a man so against sunlight that even in broad daylight he could avoid it – but stopped myself. Tidus was the very man that employed me. The owner of Forelone Manor.

"The traffic… was bad." I said lamely, scratching the back of my neck. It was a habit I had inherited from when I was younger – a sign of my nerves.

Tidus shifted his gaze from his front lawn to me, before stepping out of the shadows of the front porch. "Well next time leave an hour earlier." He sniffed, moving past me and into the estate. "I don't pay you for nothing."

I rolled my eyes in annoyance but followed him nonetheless. Guilt slowly spread through me, and I regretted rolling my eyes at him. Whenever I was around Tidus, I had to bite my tongue. He was my boss and I couldn't afford to lose this job. Not only that, but I'd been working for him for so long that if I was by some chance fired, I wouldn't know what to fall back on. In a sense, I depended on him. I like to think that he, for some reason or other, depends on me too. "You never told me why you pay so well." I asked, trying to lighten the mood. I should have known that this was hopeless after so many failed attempts, but tried anyways.

I'd been surprised when I had received that call from Tidus the day he had asked if I would like to sketch a few things for him. I'd been selling portraits on the street for less than fifty gil, less than peasant's money.

Of course, I'd heard about the mansion and had always dreamed of painting it.

I gladly obliged.

Well, a few things turned into a lot of things. I found myself at Forelone Manor almost three times a week, instead of what I thought would be the occasional five times a year.

"And you never told me why you like to yap so much." Tidus shot back, leading the way through his home and into the backyard. I'd learned to tolerate his depressive mood after only working for him for a few months. He wasn't usually too happy or talkative, rarely ever smiled and more often frowned than anything else. Even his eyes seemed to glaze over, as if he was off in some other world. It was not often that I caught him, but he'd jerk back into reality, dazed and confused every once in a while.

"It's in my blood." I replied, shrugging my shoulders. The aroma of blooming flowers hit my nose, a scent too strong to ignore. His backyard was like the lounging area for Gods – peaceful and serene – although it lacked any sincerity. "What shall it be today?" I asked. Tidus stepped down off his stone patio and gazed down the never ending acre. I knew better than to urge a reply from him and simply waited, pulling a sketching pencil out of my pocket and sitting on one of the patio chairs.

"Just the roses." He finally answered with his hands in his pockets. I nodded and pulled out some sheets from my portfolio, disregarding a bunch of unfinished sketches. Tidus was very picky when it came to artwork. Usually when I had unfinished sketches it meant he didn't approve of them, ordering me to stop immediately. "It's all wrong. The shading is all wrong." He had once said to me, regarding a sketch I had done the first week I began to work for him. It was of Wakka, taking a break from work and sitting in the grass. Tidus had peered over my shoulder as I sketched, groaning in disgust at the sight.

What puzzled me was where he had gotten this distorted knowledge from. Tidus had attended the most elite of schools, not only majoring in art but a star of his blitzball team. A lot of the things he had discredited me for were the most basic of the principles of design, something he must have been taught at even an early age.

Either way, I had done as he was told and threw it in the trash.

"That's wrong."

His voice was over me like a falcon in the sky, snapping me from the past and into the present. Degrading, belittling.

I paused and removed my pencil from the paper. The rose was right in front of me, in plain sight. From the paper to reality, they looked almost identical. "You're right." I agreed – a lie. I leaned back from my sketch and let him see it better. He nodded, a soft "hmph" emitting from his pursed lips.

"It's the lines. They're too defined." He justified, moving his gaze away from my shoulder and to the rose bush before us.

"Should I start over?" I asked him, looking up to see his expression.

There was nothing there. He was almost like a sculpture, crafted with no emotion that belonged to any normal human. Just a block of rock, slowly chipping and eroding away.

"Yes."

Part of me always wanted to ignore his demands. It was the part of me that was intrigued by how bizarre he was that made me shrug him off and continue. I didn't know why, but this part of me was stronger than the other. Believe me; I didn't want to come to Tidus' home just to sketch random objects or things of nature. I wanted to spend my time painting other things, revolutionary things, if I could. But Tidus paid me more than seven thousand gil to come in and sketch something new. The money was what was keeping me here, as well as the mystery that shrouded him.

I allowed myself to be immersed in my sketch with nothing but the chirping of birds and rushing water from the fountain as my soundtrack. Occasionally every few minutes things would quiet down and Wakka's voice could be heard from the front. He sang whenever he did yard work, something Tidus was indifferent to. It bothered the hell out of me though, and I found myself screwing up more and more, hiding my mistakes with more lines and shading.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Tidus asked suddenly. He had startled me and caused my pencil to scratch violently against the paper. I looked at him, met with his back, and looked back to the paper again.

"Nothing." I finally answered, trying to smudge the line back into shape.

"Then you should come over tomorrow again. Finish sketching that rose and then maybe something else."

I was puzzled. "And what would that be?" I asked. Tidus never asked me to do anything but sketch. Useless loose leaf paper was what he lived for.

"I haven't decided yet." He shrugged, turning to me. "I know you signed up wanting to try your hand at paper mache, but I don't really have any appreciation for the fine arts."

I smirked, stretching my fingers. "Your flattery kills me." I retorted, turning back to my deformed rose.

"I'm sure it does." Tidus spoke, instead of hiding in his usual silence. I didn't look up to face him, but part of me was aware that a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

This was the beginning of the end.