Time seemed to slow, to stop, I flicked my gaze up in disbelief and met those dark red eyes; and then it sped up with the sound of a loud clang. I'd dropped the candlestick.
On my foot.
'MOTHERFUCKER!' I screamed, clutching my injured toe. I clapped my hand over my mouth and- well- squealed. (Silver is really heavy, who'd have thought?) Wait, why had it dropped, anyway? I looked back up to the cause and gaped slightly. 'My lady?' he questioned.
I laughed. 'Okay, this is ridiculous. Really. Am I in a coma?' I questioned, letting go of my foot and walking around.' Is this some kind of elaborate prank? Come on. Sebastian, the mansion, everything. This isn't real!'
'I assure you, this is reality. What I'm finding slightly hard to believe, however, is the presence of a guest who causes such a ruckus with her crude swearing and generally violent manner' said the butler, smiling coldly.
I finally looked at him in full. That dark hair; those red eyes; the pristine attire. His menacingly polite smile. I was vaguely aware of blurting 'Ah, sorry?' before the ground came to meet me in a grey blur.
I awoke in the same room as before and had a brief panic attack. After wheezing for a good 10 minutes and pinching my arms incessantly, I came to the realisation that this was, indeed, real, and that I had to deal with it. Right. Feeling the corners of my mouth turn down in a grim expression of determination, I began to search for my clothes. After I'd dressed, I felt more prepared (combat boots make you feel like you can stomp on anything, I guess), and decided to venture out into the hallway again.
After walking for a few seconds, I heard some strangely familiar voices coming around the corner.
'Really, Bard, you have to drink more milk! And those cigarettes! They're not good for you at all!' complained a slightly nasal voice- ah, that would be Mey-rin, I thought- and a deep, very American voice- Bard's- began to complain, before I ran down the other side. I'm not prepared to face them, I thought to myself wildly. What would I say? I had to find somewhere quiet to hide while I figured things out, and after a while, I found a secluded room in the corner of the mansion that was used for storage. I sat, surrounded by dusty boxes, and purposefully slowed my breathing. I had to calm down and process things.
First: I was in a fictional world.
Second: assuming that this fictional world is real, then the events that I know about, both preceding and following my entrance, had to be equally real.
Third: I can't tell anyone what I know. Not yet; not until I knew what I was up against.
This was going to be harder than I thought.