Chapter 3
Silent Understanding
The rich are embedded with gold and silver, warm baths of lavenders and sweet rosemary, and more than enough food to fill plump stomachs. They become accustomed to clean skin and clothing so stiff one must sit straight to breath just a mild gasp of air. Hair sickly with jewels and golden glitter; faces coated with long lashes, rosey cheeks, and innocent large eyes.
Knowledge of the world outside of their little 'castles' never once being told. Little ears plugged up and tiny mouths clean from vile words. Like a bunch of porcelain dolls living off some others riches, it's a very different life from one with worn fingers. Mouths crisp and to the point, words a solid fortress, stomachs like inflated balloons and hygiene was never one of these childrens virtues. Both would never survive in the others place for they are far too different. The rules on both sides are hurtful and far to painful.
It's not the children of money's fault, the choice was never theirs. The silver chairs and the long wooden table, not even the feast right before my eyes. None of this was their choice to live in, they only grew up with it, they do not know of how this dress is far too tight for someone who's never worn anything but rags. Not even how the sweltering food only makes the girl wish to vomit, the array far too large for a horrid man.
He sits across me on the other end just staring, his eyes full of contempt. As if he's proud his maids could force me into such a terrible dress with fabric far too soft. The two maids now are seated close by him, looking more like royals then peasants picked off the street to do his bidding.
Their backs are straight and arms never once touch the table they eat off. The silver spoons and forks being carefully lowered, clicking on the filled bowls, and brought to pristine lips. They eat in silence, never once noticing the glares being sent between the man they work for and I, his 'sunflower.'
"Eat" He commands, a sickly warm smile coating his lips as he continues on. "You are hungry are you not?" The words are bound with law though not once does he allow his smile movement. We are in company, he cannot show weakness to those who work for him. Glancing at the two women, one with long blonde hair icy cool and well kept and the other with long shoulder blades and short wispy hair. The two so contradicting yet a form of formality sparking between the two.
They both seemed innocent in their own way. As if neither knew of the pain brought within this world, much less the torture hidden in this mansion. Neither hands were worn, much less did they look aged. Less like the maids you'd expect and more like the royalty they would work for.
Braginski follows my eyes then takes a sharp intake "сестер" he snaps, glancing at both the young ladies before bringing his eyes right back on me. "Leave us" He commands and without a word the two of them stand and take their leave. One glaring with hatred and the others eyes wide with a worry I have not seen in a long, long time. She seems to mouth apologies the whole way out, quickly squeezing past the shorter of the ladies who gives me a dark glare before closing the door. Leaving me and this man who seems to have an agenda that changes every time I catch sight of him.
This mans whose emotions seem to be only noticeable when pushed far past the peak of normality. That peak being me. "Now, tell me. Is your room comfortable? Do you need anything" He asks, a smile on his face as if he knows just what i'd say. 'Yet you know nothing' I think quietly to myself. With a deep sigh I change my placement of eyesight to the far off window. Out where freedom is word none fear of losing, out where a comfy little cottage lies behind millions of trees and only the grey smoke running from the shoot hints of life within. Where a small bunk lies inside, made of hay and one small blanket only large enough for a small girl.
Where a poor French man is probably crying for the loss of his precious daughter. Only having just come home from a business trip in his hometown, far from the cold Russian grounds which his daughter was left to fend off. How foolish he was to trust her, the ditzy child who believed all the fairy tales he would speak of.
"I will take it that the room is to your liking" Braginski started, cutting off the thoughts of said French men. The world outside is hazy now, birds flying past the window. Braginski coughs lightly before forging on with the one sided conversation, even with how pitiful it is. "Do you like your gift? I had one of my men make it especially for you." I turn my head to give him a sparring look, before allowing my eyes to glance to the necklace.
The necklace was odd, the bird forever frozen in mid-flap. It's wings were so small and detailed, not anything like a normal bird. For laps of fire seemed to beg to reach from the wings edge. The bird looked as if it were on a mission, the flower within its beak a gift for one of higher quality.
He's acting gentle, not like yesterday when he was sad but more kind. As if he truly wants my opinion, yet I know this is only for me to trust him. To speak, to allow a secret to escape my frozen lips. It's silent for a few minutes, Braginski busy thinking of what else he could say and I far from opening my mouth. Yellow wings flying by the window. The bird much like the one i'd seen the day before, the one i'd almost touched.
"I worry of forgetting," Braginski whispers the words solemn and far softer than anything else he's ever said. "You seem much like a dream little sunflower. Some nights I wonder if you are real or not, I fear i'll forget what power is in my possession." He chants his eyes clouding and he slowly forgets where he is. He stares at me with those glazed eyes and I can't help but squirm just a tad, for i'm not one for attention.
Ignorant of my discomfort he continues to stare, The emotions between his eyes as noticeable as the winds streaks against the sky. The clouds lazy and slump, not at all in need of movement as they pilfer by his doomed iris. Large fingers sliding against the table in a sickening rhythm as he seems to finally blink.
"You haunt my dreams, you speak to me yet I can't place your voice...Then you disappear, like you never even existed." He continues, fist clenched painfully tight, teeth grazing with a slight snarl. Wide eyed I followed his movement as the cog gears in his head seemed to swing far too fast for me to understand. His thoughts becoming fazed by anger a blistering emotions one should never hold.
"So powerful...I am so powerful yet it's you, a little girl, who haunts my dreams every night. I took control of the whole Russia in one week yet I cannot make a measly child speak!" He cries, his voice full of sadness, yet dipped into venomous anger. The seat shuffles behind him as he stands, his large shoes slamming against the floor with every step. Coming up in front of me he kneels down and looks up into my eyes. Before my eyes can even look away he's pulling my chin down harshly so I meet his own.
"Trust me, for I am the only one who will protect you." He snarls bitterly, rushing on before any thoughts would corrupt my mind. "That demon will not save you, he only wishes for the power that you hold." Braginski almost laughs at this, a pained smile on his lips and his breath blowing on my cool cheeks. Mint and the reeking smell of alcohol, such an odd mix for a man's breath. The purple of his eyes a harshly blended color with the red flecks slowly appearing within them.
"He plans to have you free him from his captive, then you'll be his slave. Freedom was never a choice." He spat, hands now holding mine with a sense of control. His eyes continue to burn into my own, as if he believed he could read all my emotions simply from my eyes. When all he has in return is a shuffle of movement from the door he sighs. Letting go of my now worn hands he turns and speaks quick Russian to the man on the other side before turning to me.
"I'm sorry my sunflower but we must finish our conversation early. I'll give you time to eat. Then a servant will come to get you." He says with one gulp of air before hastily exiting the room and slamming the door shut. The loud stomps of his shoes being the only telltale that he is still , within moments even that sound dies down, leaving the old room silent.
"But i'm not hungry" I murmured with disdain, poking the now cold pile of pork on my plate. Watching as bits of juice fell from the side onto the plate and scavenged the other pieces of food. With a sigh I pushed the golden rimmed plate away before painfully slumping upon the table. Breaths were ragged with the horrid dress strapped far too tight. 'Protection he says, yet I cannot even breath!'
Like a parent who will never leave your side, always cooing and checking you for injury only to have been the only injury on your skin. The difference being that this man has no big ideals of protection, much less for me. The dress being a fake gift, a bribery if any could say so and only the start.
This man, Braginski, truly believed that I would cave with this fake attire of sincerity. However idiotic it was he continued to push the qualms. He sort of reminded me of a child who would beg for a cookie after breaking a glass vase, saying with sincerity that 'it was an accident.' As if he knew any better.
Amelia couldn't help but let out one large sigh, not only had she found the girl but the girl looked more than fine. Though she did seem a little ragged with her back so straight. Amelia smiled before slamming into the door and floating straight through. Floating up to the girl she giggled at the scrunched up nose, The girl only did that when deep in thought. As if the nose packed into a winkle could keep her thoughts from running away.
With a playful poke Amelia moved back giving the girl room to see her cheshire smile, as she knew from practice that it truly irked the young human. When the girls eyes floated up the only thing worth noting was the broken look plastered on her face.
Now it was Amelia's turn to scrunch up her face as she stared at the girl with deep confusion. Not that she'd never seen the girl hurt, more like the girl seemed far from awake. Her lavender eyes dulled by that of fickle worries that seemed to plug her ears and stitch her mouth closed.
For why else would she have not complained towards Amelia, as she always would after a tiny push. Amelias smile seemed to twitch at the thought as she stared at the small child, to think she'd almost lost this little treasure. Created by that of a master's careful hands and so fragile a simple flick of the wrist could possibly hurt her. Someone who needed to be protected, kept safe and sure to never be hurt. Someone who if in danger could be saved by a simple cry. Someone who deserved a hero.
"Peek-a-boo" Amelia cried hiding her eyes behind gloved hands while her smile twitched.
The girl let out a small smile before bringing her own hands out to push the hands down. The delicate hands carefully embracing Amelias' as the small girls gave them a small squeeze. With one quiet whisper the human finished the game and started something so much larger.
"I see you."
