Today I've got a little thing I'm calling an interlude—not enough for an actual chapter, but something to tide you over, hm? Thanx much!
-Li
~Interlude~
The Elvenlady ran the brush through her silver-blonde hair in long, smooth strokes. Green eyes gazed peacefully at her reflection in her dressing table mirror, as a handful of equally mild and quiet slaves waited patiently on her whim. Their stillness only enhanced the surreal quality of the scene, as if the solitary motion of the brush had gotten somehow stuck, and now played out endlessly, over and over.
Shaen watched uncomfortably, from the doorway of the bower, wondering why he had come. Not to distract his agitated mind or soothe uneasy nerves, certainly. As always, when entering these rooms, a strange, cold knot had settled somewhere in his chest.
He cleared his throat, and the brush finally ceased its motion. The Elvenlady turned, a child-like smile lighting her face as she saw him. It seemed somehow inconsistent with the face of a mature Elvenlady, like a fragile, faded blossom lingering in the place of the fruit. She dropped immediately into a respectful curtsy, the human slaves flowing about beside her, as if part of her garments. "My Lord Shaen, I greet you."
"Mother." He returned a bow, keeping his face impassive, if only because the knot was tightening. "I greet you. I hope I find you well?"
Her head bobbed, eager to concur. "Yes, my Lord Shaen."
"And how do things fair?"
More head bobbing, despite the form of the question. "Well, my Lord Shaen."
"Did you enjoy your new dresses?"
"Yes, my Lord Shaen." A beatific smile lit upon her face, and she ventured a shy compliment. "They are most pretty. Shall we have a dinner together, soon? I do so love dinners with you, and I can wear the new silver dress. If it would please my Lord Shaen?"
The knot ached. There had been a time, hadn't there? A time before she… A before time. "That would be very nice." Shaen tried to make his face reassuring, and encouraging. "We shall have one soon, if it pleases you."
"Of course, my Lord Shaen."
It would be so much easier, if I could just…forget.
Seating himself, he engaged her light, trivial conversation for a little while longer, though it consisted mostly of his questions and his mother's affirmative responses. Still, he thought he could see her thriving subtly beneath the attention, so he persevered, coaxing a few more self-generated responses from her before he withdrew.
In the hallway, he leaned against the wall, composing his features. He wished could similarly tidy away the tangle of indecipherable emotions in his chest. Why do I subject myself to this?
Instead, he vented his pent up anger on the first slave to get in his way, a human female unfortunate enough to have her eye level too high when she came around the corner. Power threw her painfully to her knees, clacking her head against the stone floor, and his voice was icy as he assigned her a lashing for her impertinence.
The girl fled, shaking, to meet her punishment; far more willing to face the whip than to spend another moment under that deadly green gaze.
Unaccountably, Shaen found his hands trembling. He stilled them. Damn all females, anyway! She had had dark hair. Damn all humans. Damn Father. And damn me.
Retreating to his suite of rooms, he rather violently dismissed the slaves, and locked himself in alone.