There is a boy, well, a young man really, who has moved to this town recently. I simply must invite him over sometime. I have become much less introverted in these last few months. I have gone outside more often than I ever have in my whole life.
"Papillon?"
"Yes, mademoiselle?"
"You know you can call me by my name—I will not be offended by it."
"Yes, Mad—umm, Aria. Whatever you say."
"As I was saying," I pause drawing a large breath. "I was thinking of taking a trip. But, I have no idea where to go. Would you like to make a suggestion?"
"I heard Paris is nice in the springtime…"
"But tell me, is it springtime?"
"No," she admits. She looks away from me, so as to hide her uncalled for shame. I reach out with my long, skeletal fingers and gently turn her face to mine. Yet her eyes are still averted as if I was the image of God incarnate. Ha! Like that would ever be true!
""Do not be ashamed. I did not mean to hurt your feelings," I apologize. "Maybe I shall let you have a vacation yourself. Would that not be nice?"
"Yes, Aria."
"I think I shall visit the Mediterranean seacoast. Possibly visit Greece and Italy, even. I have learned of an estate near the sea that belongs to me as heir to the title of Lord of Shadowlocke."
"Yes, milord. I shall make the arrangements."
"Madame Tolet," I say as I draw myself up to my full height. "That will not be necessary. I have already done so. Leave me; I must get some rest to-night if I am to leave this next morning. Goodnight."
A knock sounds at the door to my bedroom. It jolts me out of my nightmarish dreams. Why do I keep having these dreams? Could they be trying to tell me something?
"Are you decent, milady?" It is the butler; my grandpapa's actually, Luc Marcí—a very close family friend.
"Almost, monsieur. Just a second." I leap out of bed and pull on my robe and my mask, my favorite: the black and gold one. I open the door. It is Luc. I thought so.
"My Lady, would you like your breakfast in your room today?"
"No thank you, Luc. I shall take it with everyone else in the kitchen today. Thought I would see you all before I left to go south for the winter."
"Very good, sir." He bows, and leaves. I can hear his heavy tread walking down the stairs. He is getting old, isn't he? Perhaps I should have him come down sometime or allow him a paid vacation? I hurry and get dressed. I am so anxious! And why wouldn't I be? The only other place I've been is where I was born, back in America. I keep the mask on, for although most of the household has seen me without one, there are a few who have not. Especially some of the new servants. They are all paid very well, pretty much guaranteed work on but a few conditions. These conditions, the most important being that they do not touch or question the mask I wear around them or when I feel like it, are around to protect them and me.
As I step into the kitchen's dining room, a hush falls upon the occupants. I know I present an impressive sight, what with the mask and my near seven-foot tall height (it is 6' 9"). "Good morning, people," I say as I send out a glare that would chill a polar bear.