She woke with a start, her sides aching, lungs heaving against the tight hold her ribs had on every desperate gasp for breath. Her stiff fingers gripped the thin, soft sheets below her, limbs trembling and eyes wide, but not seeing anything in the dark. Her heart pounded in her bones, fighting for freedom.
A forced deep breath and she was sitting up in bed. Her clothing clung heavily to her damp skin, and she considered removing the restricted night clothes before she realized she was shivering uncontrollably. Shaking hands gripped her chest, arms, legs, anything to keep the shivers from taking over her whole body.
Moonlight cast it's eerie, erratic light about the expansive chamber—no, it wasn't moonlight, it was lightning, flashing, receding, and flashing again every few seconds.
Thunder boomed. Wind struck the large, curved windows on her right. They shuttered, but didn't give way to nature's onslaught. She recognized that it was the clap of thunder that had suddenly woken her.
It didn't matter; she wasn't sleeping well.
With still-shaking hands, she combed her fingers through her hair, black, wavy shocks tumbling over her face. Another deep breath, this one less forced, filtered through her nose.
A few breaths later and her heart beat had returned to its natural pace. She sat up more fully on her soft bed, tucking her cold feet under her. Lightning flashed again, casting a temporary brightness on the extravagant furniture in the chamber. She examined her skin, pale blue and seemingly glowing in the night air.
Without warning, her throat closed, her airways restricted with the presence of someone outside her door. Cold fingers gripped her spine in response to the waiting person in the hall, her limbs automatically locking in place and refusing her brain's frantic pleas to move.
He was on the other side of the door, thick wood being the only thing to separate them.
The woman didn't move, eyes fixed on the double-doors.
A light tap sounded through the high ceiling of her chambers.
A pause. Then a voice.
"Are you alright?" His voice carried through the thick wood, deep and concerned.
She sat stone still, fingers moving carefully over the sheets and gripping them tightly. Her eyes stared at the door, willing the man on the other side to disappear from the hall.
"You…I heard you scream." His voice was softer now, but still loud enough to be heard. The thunder faded into the background and swallowed itself whole, the only noise audible to her her own thudding heart.
His presence remained solidly behind the door.
She considered saying something to the stranger. After three days of staying at the massive castle, this was the closest she'd come into contact with the only other soul there.
Hesitantly, as if regretting every movement, she felt him step away from the door, his presence soon fading into the cold air of the halls.
Only then did she relax, her muscles loosening and shoulders barely shaking. Without a sound, she curled back up under the cool sheets, wishing away the goose bumps that had risen on her arms.
Thunder reappeared, intruding on the silence that had descended on the large, dark room. She curled herself into as tight a ball as possible, eventually falling into a fitful sleep.
##
She woke to soft pressure against her head, warm, bright sunlight filtering through the clear windows and warming the wooden floor.
She had to think about the soft, repeating pressure to her head, to remember what exactly it was. It went from her scalp, finger tip-like feelings tracing through her hair and over her shoulder before it went back up.
The spirits. The invisible creatures, the living Forces that pervaded the very walls of the castle were by her that morning. They had no bodies, no physical forms to mark their existence. Only the soft warmth that sometimes pressed against her arms or the strange whispery voices they often spoke in told they were in the room.
She felt them in the back of her head right then, gently waking her up to start her fourth day at the castle. She ignored them, pulling the blanket tighter over her shoulders and huffing when they were rudely ripped away from her. The whispers grew impatient as they tried their best to pull her from the bed.
If she could have swatted them, she would have. Begrudgingly and not without swears, she sat up on the soft mattress, stretching her arms above her head. The whispers ushered her without hands, leading her to the mirror that was directly parallel to the foot of her bed.
Sitting carefully on the plush red cushions of the vanity seat, she examined her reflection in the clear, clean mirror.
Black hair, dark pink lips, and freckles. Her blue skin looked clear from what she could see, the darker blue freckles spread unevenly across the bridge of her nose and under her eyes. She looked herself in the eye, examined her pupil-less purple irises. Today there were flecks of green and blue around the edges—very small, but still there; yesterday was gold and red.
The whispers chattered pleasantly in the back of her mind, entertaining themselves with the multitude of colors in her eyes.
Apparently, her species wasn't common in that area. Of course, she knew that.
The woman stood and dressed, letting the fine fabrics of her green dress fall over her curves and wincing as she stretched her arm too far.
A light pressure, warm and soft, pressed against her lower back. The owner—or owners—of the voices were very pleased with they'd done. Their happiness spun in lazy circles around her, heating her face and making her finger tips tingle. The swirling feeling then pointed to the door, the solid wood swinging inward of its own accord.
The small Forces were something she had learned to get used relatively quickly, as they'd made her feel welcome and comfortable on her first night of imprisonment in the palace. She could have sworn she'd heard singing as she struggled to keep her eyes open.
The woman knew what they were trying to do. They wanted her to meet the second soul of the castle, the only other person to live there. Her booted feet remained stubbornly glued to the floorboards.
An almost-sigh rang in her head as the Forces gave up on getting her to be social. They soon swirled away, dispersed throughout the empty rooms and halls of the palace.
The woman knew very well that the other person here owned the palace. Her reasoning, therefore, was that he wanted her there for whatever reason. Whether he'd arranged the false accusations pitted against her or not had yet to be determined.
Even if she'd wanted to meet him for whatever reason, it would have been a more tedious task than she was then willing to put up with; he rarely made his presence around her known, always quickly ducking into passageways she had yet to find or turning corners and disappearing into locked bedrooms. She never would have thought him to be the shy type, considering how her imprisonment was likely his doing.
She strolled out the door, down and through halls, until she reached the main front door. She remembered the night she'd first arrived at the empty castle. There had been rain that drowned the air and thunder that split the earth. She'd been disoriented and in pain, shivers beginning to rip through her skin.
She didn't remember how she got to the bed. Only dry clothing and warmth resting on her forehead remained in the patchy areas of her memory.
Soon enough, she was outside, and the bright rays of the morning sun eradicated the darkness in her mind. Careful not to step in the puddles gathered in the dips of the path, she made her way to the flower gardens on the east side of the castle. When she saw the massive expanse of colorful flowers, her shoulders almost sagged in relief; the storm hadn't destroyed the flowers. Each one bobbed gently in the breezes that blew over the land, the sun illuminating each and every petal that sprouted from their centers.
She bent to gently pluck one. It was pink with blue spots, and so far those ones were her favorite. The flowerbeds were where she spent the next hour or so, examining the multitude of plants and sculptures that graced the pathways.
It was when she was crouched over a bush full of small yellow flowers—her back to the castle—that she felt her lower back muscles chill and freeze up despite the warm air. The hairs on the back of her neck instantly prickled, goose bumps rising on her biceps.
She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
He was behind her, studying the way she sat crouched on the stone path near the bush. Neither said anything for a long while.
"That's a biren flower bush," he said, his voice soft. He sounded almost…shy.
She refused to turn around, maintaining a glare on the poor flower in her fingers and willing him to go away.
Whether or not he heard her demands in his mind was unanswered. She heard him shuffle forward with uneven footsteps, as if he were placing more weight on his right foot than his left. He stopped when he saw her bristle.
Preparing his words carefully, mapping out each sound in his head with extreme detail, he spoke to the woman's back. "What…what's your name?"
She didn't fail to notice the hesitance with which he spoke. She heard the strange almost-lisp he had, as if half his face were relaxed and wouldn't budge.
"Kiki." Her voice rasped a bit from lack of use. Kiki didn't say anything after that, though, instead choosing to thumb the flowers before her.
"Kiki…" he whispered to himself. She could tell he was rolling her name around in his head, committing its sounds and syllables to memory—she didn't like it.
There was more of the awkward shuffling behind her. "You…haven't eaten yet. Would you like some breakfast?"
Kiki didn't know much about him; he had tan skin, and was bald. All this she had gathered from her last walk in the gardens when he'd risked a peek around a corner of a wall. Just as she had looked up, he'd run away.
His patience was probably able to stretch to eternity if necessary, because he didn't leave until he got some sort of response.
Kiki's curiosity got the better of her—not only that, but his continued presence was making her uncomfortable. With deliberate movements, she stood up, her back still facing him. She turned, fully intending to demand what it was that he wanted.
Her hand flew to her mouth as she swallowed what could have been a gasp or what little food she'd eaten the night before.
Kiki stared wide-eyed at the half-twisted face of the man before her. Scars marred the left side of his head, twisting the skin on his cheek—
No, there was no cheek.
His lips were normal until the middle of his face, where they thinned and turned a bit raw, red, slightly flaky skin where his lips ended. She could see his teeth, each and every molar on the left side of his face, and the tan skin that met up directly with those white teeth. If there were gums, they were under his skin.
Kiki didn't swallow her gasp out of shock. His body language, the very way he held himself and shrunk away from her recoil, was what had made her pause.
"I-It's alright if you…don't want to eat anymore," he stammered. The look in his eye, right before she'd tried to hide her gasp of horror behind her hand, had been one of hope.
He thought that maybe she wouldn't run away and cower at the ugliness of his face. Maybe she would have ignored the twisted scars that took over half his head; that she would actually be comfortable around him.
Kiki's hand remained over her mouth, her lips parted in silent horror behind it. The sight alone of where his cheek should have been made her stomach roll. No words formulated in her mind as she stood, all her muscles tethered to the stone pathway. Ever so slowly, she studied the rest of him; the right side of his face remained completely undamaged, his even, tan skin uninterrupted by any blemishes. Golden brown eyes studied her purple ones.
Kiki saw the look in his eye, small but bright hope dashed against sharp rocks, broken and not likely to be fixed anytime soon. The very way he hunched his shoulders and tried to turn his face away from her left a small, sour tendril of guilt in the pit of her stomach.
She slowly removed her hand from her mouth. "What's your name?" she asked softly. Kiki didn't miss the look of wonder on his face.
"My name…?" He stopped recoiling long enough to look at her closely. His pupils dilated as if he were lost in thought for a moment as he met her eyes. "I…don't have one…"
Kiki stood in silent confusion for a moment. "You don't have one?"
He silently shook his head. He looked ashamed of himself. "No."
She felt the last of her repulsion slowly trickle away through her feet. Maybe he did have a name, but just couldn't remember for whatever reason. Kiki risked a tiny shuffle forward.
His first reaction was to take a larger step back, his shoulders almost completely crowding his ears. She never would have guessed that he'd be afraid of her. After realizing that Kiki wouldn't make any other move, he straightened a little, but still made an effort to hide as much of his face as he could.
Awkward silence stretched between them; Kiki studied his face and he tried not to let her.
"Do you still want breakfast?" he asked after the silence grew to be unbearable. His eyes met hers for the barest of seconds before they fell to the flowers by his feet.
Kiki studied the man before her. She didn't directly lay her sight on his grotesque face, instead eyeing the clothing he wore. He had gloves on, the sleeves of shirt long and dark. He wore heavy, dark boots while the collar of his vest almost completely covered his neck.
The slight fear still shook in his eyes. Fear, hesitance, and an overall self-consciousness radiated from him. Kiki knew she'd lost most of her appetite once she'd laid eyes on him, but felt that she had no right to say so.
"Yes. I'll have breakfast." Kiki forced her eyes to remain forward when she started toward the castle. As she walked past, he gave her wide berth. His uneven footsteps shuffled behind her as she made her way in through the back of the castle. His uneasiness made the skin on her back crawl.
The Forces chirped in greeting at the back of her head and in the air around her. Plates of food floated through the air and landed on either end of a long wooden table. The chandeliers above them tinkled pleasantly as breezes swept through the open windows of the dining room. Natural sunlight filtered in from the high windows and spun itself into the crystals in the dangling chandeliers, casting small rainbows all over the walls of the dining room.
Kiki couldn't focus on anything but keeping her small breakfast down. The Forces fretted and whispered hastily to her. They wanted her to eat more. Start talking. At least make eye contact with the man across from her.
She stubbornly ignored them, and she could tell by the discomfort that wafted off of him that he was being told the same things. He shifted in his seat, then shifted again. From what Kiki could tell, he'd barely touched his food. If he was making an effort not to eat in front of her, she couldn't have cared less; she wasn't going to be able to keep any of her food down at the thought of having to feed oneself while missing a cheek, the teeth barely able to keep any liquids from spilling out.
The very thought made her nauseous.
Every few moments he would take a bite of bread, his face almost entirely buried in his now cold plate of food. He'd risk a look at her and quickly return his attention to his meal.
Every time he looked up, Kiki met his gaze with a cold glare.
The Forces swirled around them anxiously, displeased with the lack of interaction between the two. Glasses were constantly refilled, butter shifted to each end of the table as the Forces desperately tried their best to keep tensions from rising.
As if compelled by the negative feedback from the Forces, the man spoke up suddenly. The hesitance still present on him, he took a few seconds to formulate what it was he wanted to say. "Kiki."
She looked up, said nothing.
He chewed the words over in his head again and again, gently placing his fork on the table. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. His words almost failed him when he saw the look of impatience growing on her face.
"If…if you loved me…"
She went rigid, her fork stilled in the air just in front of her mouth, lips pressed firmly together.
"…would you marry me?"
The Forces were stunned into silence, their presence falling heavily on every inch of the pair.
Kiki's fork clattered loudly on the plate. Without a word, she roughly pushed her chair out and exited the dining room.
So, this is a Jaki AU I came up with a few days ago. This is more of a pilot chapter seeing as I'm trying out a new writing style with this.