The Ballad of Mona Lisa
Chapter I
"She paints her fingers with a close precision...
He starts to notice empty bottles of gin...
And takes a moment to assess the sins she's paid for..."
November 12, 1852
The small town of Serpent's Hollow never slept, but lived on in a continuous cycle.
So, this day, like all others, began with the "official" opening of the the town's bar, the "official" waking up of its citizens, the "official" slinking away of the shady characters back to their dens...
And the docking of the ship that came every once a month. The small ship, more of a boat really, came despite the fact that its own hometown was less than a hundred miles away. However, nobody seemed to feel it necessary to cross the countryside simply for old Serpent's Hollow.
This boat had exactly two purposes:
1. Bring news of the outside world (not that anybody used news for anything other than gossip and grumblings) and
2. Drop off any new Mercenary Asylum residents.
Ah yes, Mercenary Asylum lived on - fifty years after its first resident. Incidents like his continued to happen over and over again, and it truly wasn't any huge surprise to the villagers to see a new resident - though, they still treated it as such.
For Mercenary Asylum was one place that even the toughest of the toughest avoided - and, mind you, there was a large number of tough people in Serpent's Hollow.
Mercenary Asylum surpassed everything the seedy little town of Serpent's Hollow stood for.
A large crumbling gate led into large, unkempt grounds teeming with mystery - and beyond the gate stood the true haunted house - the one in your mind's eye when you thought of the home of magic and supernatural. The monstrous, weathered manor loomed above any passerby and could be seen miles away - not that anybody gave it more than a glance out of fear.
Enough of that, though. Mercenary Asylum was nothing new to the town. However, each of its residents were. And today, after a full year of vacancy, there was finally a new one.
But the whispers began as soon as she stepped out of the ship and onto the dock.
A woman - impossible! There has never been a woman sent here before in all these years!
And - look at that - she can't be more than a girl! What were they thinking up there?
And she's no lowborn maid, either... Look at the silk of that gown...
But the girl stalked through them, her head held high amidst all the hushed noise, never sparing more than a disinterested glance for any of the villagers. The captain, standing a head shorter than her, kept looking around nervously as he always did when forced to get off the sanctuary of his boat. However, credit must be given to him for completing his duty and escorting her throughout the parade that had gathered throughout all ten miles of Serpent's Hollow.
The woman was a true mystery - her chin held high, her scarlet hair streaming down her back, and her eyes covered by a black lace veil. She walked with definite grace, with shoulders arched back, and her gown drifted around her ankles and boots. Although her attire looked out of place in the mangy little town, her closed-off, wary stance made everybody take to her immediately. Her hands may have been cuffed, yet she seemed as sane as any of them - although, that wasn't saying too much, now was it?
They were her new neighbors, were they? Well, they seemed better than the last ones she had, yes. It was like those adventures she'd always read in those books she'd sneak into her chambers. She'd wished to have one, and now here it was.
Finally her poor, trembling escort reached the dark gates on the edge of the dark village. She followed behind him, gently as not to scare him more. The dark gates were seemingly meant to be scary, and truthfully, they did indeed terrify her - but what could she possible else feel?
In that moment, it finally hit her. Everybody - everybody had sold her out. There was no one in the world left for her to trust. They all thought her some sort of loony. No, not a loon - a terrible, sadistic, traitorous murderess.
Well, good for them.
If all those years, all that shared blood meant nothing to then they weren't worth any of it.
This would become worth it, she thought, looking up at the cracked windows, and puffing chimney.
"OI! Move out of the way, you scumbags! Let the lady through - she don't need this on her first day 'ere!"
She dragged her eyes down to a hunched over, old man with scruffy long grey hair, squinty eyes, and a snarling face. Despite the fact that he wasn't all that intimidating, the crowd dissipated and the captain scurried off.
The girl stood small and frightened in front of him now with her audience gone. He then turned to her with warm eyes.
"Ginevra, that is how it is pronounced, yes? Do not worry about me; I only keep that caveman exterior up for those ruffians." He laughed a deep, bellowing sound.
The girl herself felt her posture slightly relax and even allowed a small smile to escape.
"Yes, kind sir, it is Ginevra."
His dull green eyes softened even further at her soft and quiet voice, one that could never belong to a haughty noblewoman.
"Welcome to Mercenary Asylum, Lady Ginevra."
Twenty minutes later, and a long haul up the stairs in the back, the lady and the caretaker stood in front of one of the numerous guest rooms.
"This is the back entrance from, well, the back. It leads straight to your room. There are no other residents, so I do believe you shall be fine. Anything else, milady?"
"Your name." The corners of her mouth twitched as she took in his excitement.
"Oh, yes, of course. Argus, milady, Argus Filch."
"Thank you, Mister Filch." And she truly was grateful for the warm reception she'd gotten from him.
He gave her a knowing look before turning and leaving down the stairs to the next floor. The air suddenly turned cold just with look.
With all pretenses gone, she finally felt like she had before- stripped, exposed, and somber.
She stood outside the door for a full minute before grabbing her bags and marching in promptly -
To be stopped shortly by the sight of a handsome, pale young man sitting on her bed, staring out the window, a pipe dangling from his fingers.