[ Friday ]
Friday sighs as the colour and passion fade from the world again, leaving behind a faded, muffled thing that she can barely stand.
That was the last batch of humans; it is only Tuesday on Earth - she will have to wait another three interminable days before she can venture back.
She would rather not associate her retreat with disappointingly mundane reality; she has not been to the Middle House in a while, so perhaps she will visit it instead.
"Noon. Dusk. We are returning to the House," Friday tells her waiting subordinates. She turns away from the listless mass of humans.
Her two oldest and most trusted executives bow, and fall into step behind her.
Friday's new Dawn is quite different from his predecessor. He disapproves of the practice of experiencing, and hides his disdain for his counterparts and their superior behind a thin veneer of brusque civility. At times, he is outright disrespectful; but Friday does not particularly care what he thinks, and the Middle House functions in her absence when she leaves him in charge, so she allows him to keep his position.
Usually, he is waiting to greet her and make passive aggressive remarks about the state of the Middle House; what does it matter if the moon stays up constantly or the seasonal cycle is stuck on winter? Denizens can see fine in the dark and the cold is not unbearable.
Today, however, Dawn is nowhere in evidence when comes through the Front Door into the Middle House; one of his Gilded Youths is present instead. They all look roughly the same, the only variation being in height. Dawn manages to tell them apart but Friday has no idea which one is standing before her.
"Greetings Lady Friday," the Youth says in a crackly voice. She thinks it might be masculine. "Friday's Dawn audience request Gilded Barracks."
Noon stiffens at the presumption. "Dawn can-" he starts angrily.
Friday lays a hand on his arm. While it is presumptuous, it's not like she has anything better to do. "Very well, we'll come now."
The elevator ride to the Barracks is exceedingly tedious. The soft music issuing from unseen speakers seems shallow and trite - but everything does when she is not experiencing.
Three more Earth days, she tells herself, glancing at her watch. It is spelled to display the time and date on Earth. Only a day now; she is glad for the tendency of time to move fluidly between the House and the Secondary Realms.
Noon glares at the Gilded Youth, who seems oblivious to his disapproval.
"What is this meeting about?" Dusk asks the Youth.
"Rightful Heir Lord Arthur Friday's Dusk."
Friday frowns. A Rightful Heir? Surely Dawn would have sent some word if such a mortal had appeared in the House. She listens with half an ear as Dusk and Noon interrogate the Youth - a futile effort, given the limited communication skills of the Youths.
Finally, they arrive. The Youth shows them to a drawing room and takes his leave.
"Da," an unfamiliar voice says, from near the back of the room.
"Dawn. Dawn," Dawn says, dragging the syllable of his title out exaggeratedly.
"Da," the speaker repeats. "Da!"
"What is the meaning of this?" Noon demands, stalking into the room before Friday.
Dawn barely looks up from whatever it is that diverts his attention. "Shh," he says absently.
Noon's eyes narrow dangerously.
"This is Arthur," Dawn adds, holding a tiny mortal up for them to see.
"Da!" says Arthur, waving a chubby hand at them.
"Who is that?" Friday asks blankly.
Over the baby's head, Dawn frowns at her in obvious disappointment. It's not really a change from his default expression around her, so she isn't overly concerned. "You don't remember baby you mistakenly kidnapped alongside all those old mortals?" Dawn asks.
Friday looks at Noon.
"One Arthur Penhaligon somehow ended up with the weekly supply of elderly humans a few months ago," Noon confirms. His eyes flick back to the baby. "I did not know it was a Rightful Heir."
"He is being raised by the Trustees," Dawn says. "It was decided upon at the last meeting of the Morrow Days."
"Why?" Friday asks, bewildered. "What possible function could raising a Rightful Heir serve?"
Dawn sniffs and puts the squirming Arthur back down on the couch. "Perhaps he will manage the Demesnes with greater alacrity than some."
The baby grabs the stuffed yellow elephant at his side and sticks its trunk in his mouth.
"How old is he?" Friday asks, ignoring the slight.
"Nearly a year," Dawn says, pulling the trunk out of Arthur's mouth. "No, Arthur. You will ruin Elephant's trunk."
The baby grunts and tries to pull it back, apparently unconcerned.
"There has not been a mortal in the House in a long time," Friday murmurs, walking closer. "I wonder-"
"Arthur is not to be experience!" Dawn says, drawing the baby into his lap. Arthur takes the opportunity to chew on the elephant's trunk again, looking up at Friday's curiously.
"He would not even notice the absence of one brief memory..." Friday says.
"No," Dawn says. "Any changes to Arthur's circumstances are to be discussed and voted upon by the Trustees. And I doubt a single memory would be enough to sate your addiction."
"Watch your tone," Noon snaps.
Arthur makes a noise, muffled though it is by the toy.
"Keep your voice down," Dawn replies, unperturbed. "Arthur dislikes yelling and other loud noises.
"I wonder why you are caring for the child," Dusk says, his tone deceptively mild. "Or how the Trustees got wind of this Heir in the first place. You are not a Trustee."
"Lady Friday authorized me to attend the meeting in her place," Dawn says; were he anyone else, he would be smug.
She does remember signing some order to that effect the last time Dawn ambushed her when she came to the Middle House.
"Well," Friday says, checking her watch: it is nearly Friday on Earth now, it seems she can leave this dreary place now, "I am sure you will raise him to your own standards of proper; and as long as you carry out your current duties-"
"-and Dusk's, and Noon's," Dawn mutters, but she chooses to ignore that.
"-then I see no reason why you cannot continue to do so," she concludes. "Now, I must be going, but I'm glad we had this talk," she adds, smiling.
Dawn grimaces at her, an attempt at a smile that falls rather short. "Likewise, my lady." His voice fairly drips sarcasm.
"Da!" Arthur says, temporarily taking the trunk out of his mouth to utter this word of wisdom.