Peacock did not expect to see the lord magister, Ober. Or, at least that what who he thinks the figure is at the end of the road decorated with colored leather strips extravaganza. Shapes blur around his periphery. Nautrens? People? Whatever they are, Peacock feels like he should strut down this musty aisle. Talons feeling some rough coarse cloth, sometimes slick smoothness, and sometimes soft scratches. Might be even more with how many fabrics there are.
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Strays of fabric rains down like snow the closer he gets to the stage. Adding clutter to his already lice infested feathers that which he flaps off every ten minutes. Until steps up on the stage and call out to the lord magister who stays frozen like a statue in the middle. But, at closer inspection, it is only the lord magister’s purple robes. Ober, who he thought was on the stage, is gone and left only the clothes.
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Left and right, he looks cautious. Before smiling and donning himself the robes. Although it is Hemrean size, not for peacocks. And as he thought about becoming a Hemrean again, his feathers fall off and his body grown to that of his previous self. But he does not seem to notice as he ties the robe around his waist and play a solo performance on his own:
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Peacock struts around the wooden stage, his vibrant feathers catching the light of five colors, yellow, blue, red, orange, and green. He clears his throat and begins to speak, taking on the role of the Princess.
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Princess: "Oh, woe is me! My kingdom is in peril, threatened by a terrible beast that ravages our lands. I fear all hope is lost unless a brave prince comes to our aid."
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Peacock quickly changes his posture and voice, becoming the Prince.
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Prince: "Fear not, fair Princess! I, Prince Alec, have heard of your plight and have come to slay the foul creature that plagues your kingdom. I shall not rest until the beast is vanquished and your people are safe."
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Peacock turns to the side, addressing an imaginary audience.
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Peacock: "And so, the brave Prince sets off on his quest, determined to save the kingdom and win the hand of the beautiful Princess."
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He takes a few steps, mimicking the Prince's journey, before suddenly hunching over and growling, animalistic into the Beast.
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Beast: "Grrr! Who dares enter my domain? I shall tear you limb from limb and feast upon your bones!"
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Peacock leaps across the stage, engaging in a dramatic battle with himself as both the Prince and the Beast. “HA! HUH! HAUGHH!”
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He swings an imaginary sword, dodges invisible claws, and lets out mighty roars and valiant battle cries. After a intense struggle, Peacock stands tall as the Prince, victorious.
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Prince: "The beast is slain! The kingdom is saved, and I have proven my worth as a true hero."
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Peacock quickly changes back into the Princess, rushing to the Prince's side.
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Princess: "My brave Prince, you have done the impossible! You have saved us all from certain doom. As promised, you shall be crowned king and rule by my side."
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Peacock mimes placing a crown upon his own head and takes on a regal posture.
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Peacock: "And thus, the Prince became King, beloved by all for his courage and valor. The kingdom prospered under his wise rule, and he and the Princess lived happily ever after."
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Peacock bows deeply to the imaginary audience as they erupt in applause and adoration. He beams with pride, basking in the glory of his performance. As he realize the claps all come from himself which the sound only echoed to a thunderous applause. Strange room this place is. “Now what next?” He asks himself, “Hm…RIGHT! I should find that urn thing.”
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And that urn thing is nowhere to be found in this dark solo play. Wherever Peacock looks, there is no one except himself. And a dark thought crosses his mind, “Am I…STUCK HERE FOREVER!?” Screaming himself in despair and leaving himself screaming for a while.
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Meanwhile, his Peacock body back at the fallen tree is also screaming, repeating after every word he says like two voices in one body. Escar rests on one of the beds, giggling at Peacock’s little play earlier before now hearing the giantess speak. And inside her sleep is a scene where she is at Foggy Marsh. Much more vivid and scenic compared to Peacock’s only stage and road.
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The fog marsh screams and clings to a lonely tower. A tower inside a tower, designed with only one window to witness the shadowplay of horror. A perfectly secluded structure that nobody thought could be lived in. They do not know, that the screams of help could be heard by another helpless.
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Another dreadful hymn for today's morning echo, waking a ragged young lady who sleeps on the damp floor chamber. Black pebbled corners reek of rats and roaches chirping as they leave her alone. With the dull tap tap of a nametag hanging on the only aged door, “Amerie Noir” written in cursive. This has been the beginning of her days since she last remembered what a day is. Her cracked skin, wrinkly hands and mudded freckles resemble the hole and ridge riddled walls. She pitifully reaches for something that can only be her breakfast. A common city mouse no bigger than her fist.
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She snatches and gnaw through its prickly fur, eating like a monstruous creature with force and speed that the prey did not get to scream. A bloody dirty bathe and breakfast, with chin and jaw protrusion for a wild, and breathless swallow. Delicious indeed are the small mice with her hair covered eyes losing all what it is to be Hemrean. Standing up and letting her hay blanket fall off her bare bruised body. Intrusive winds and sunlight nibble on purplish and red inflamed spots. Feeling for the familiar ache, each ringed round bigger than yesterday.
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The suspect would be her owner
His price will be payed for later
She who clenches her fist, ready to retaliate
Pumping herself up, ready to escalate–
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Knock
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Knock
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Knock
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Amerie flinches, startling herself and does no more as she hears the door creak open. A bearded man comes in with a blistering belly, clanking his skimpy armor by how well he feels blessed by the only sunray. Curled eyebrows raise detestfully at the young lady whose back faces him and her neck has not worn the rope that should have already been worn. Foolish of her, but this time, he pays no mind as he closes the door behind him. “O’Little Amerie.” he calls, exchanging glances, “A pleasant morn for you, dear princess. It has been without a doubt, lately, that you are as pretty as the winter camellia. Not that you are as pale as it–” As Amerie is about to speak, Ober bolds his utterance, taking fondness of the nameplate. “—Thy beauty transcends more than a high queen’s, genuine…and have you heard? I announced a special festival devoted only to you. With many growing flies in their bellies—they are excited. Even as I rode my carriage through the streets, they cannot help but bite their tongues. What special order is in place this coming May? They’d ask, and I told them to wait and see. But of course, I have to keep them on their toes, so I named it Mayfairy. Pretty name and fitting for you, don’t you think so, little Amerie?”
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His self-rattle sounded like air through her ears, but leaving the exchange dead in front of him would be undesirable “How thoughtful!” She exclaims without thought, “I’d…” looking for the words at the tip of her tongue, keeping her breaths steady, “I’d love that!”
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Ober checks her up and down, seeing the bloody pool on her feet and the bruises on her skin. Simply pleasant for his cheeks to flush, and his nose flaring. “Have you eaten?” He clears his throat, finding a corner for his eyes to rest.
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Amerie nods, wiping off blood off her lips, “yes, I have, and I thank you for it lord Magistrate. The mice today were small and healthy. So, it was delicious, I will for sure be healthy for this fes-tibal…”
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“Festival” he corrects, fumbling in his pocket
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“Right, festival…” she repeats while being handed a small book. “What’s this?”
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“Well curious, this is a dictionary. Busy yourself learning new words”
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Her first gift from Ober,
after fifteen years in the tower.
Her knees bend for gratitude
But Ober grabs her shoulder, eyes rude,
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Flaming eyes mean for her to turn her back and go all fours. Which Amerie does without question. But the moment is not rich. Ober tells her quickly to stand up and pee instad. Which she does almost instantly as if Ober knew her jittery legs meant that she was holding herself. “So, what do you say if you’ve been given grace?”
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“Thank you, lord Magister…I feel good…”
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“You need not add the last few.”
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“Oh…then, thank you, lord magister”
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“For what?” Asking in childish delight,
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“For the…Dickshownaree”
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Ober pats her dry scalp, dryer than dry rocks in a drought. “Good little Amerie,” and yet he smiles as if it is okay.
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“Uhm, lord magister. Why? The festibal…why only for me?”
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“Haha, oh my little Mayfairy~ You finally caught up. Yes indeed, why am I devoting this festival to you? Why it is because you are the princess” leaning close against her freckles, bouldering hands keeping her squatting, “tis because you are a princess, Amerie NOIR. A resounding name deserving of a thundering applause by the countless and of heavens SHOULD be rejoiced. All the nations of Hemrea and her kingdoms are expectant of you. I’ve made sure that they hear your immaculate good deeds, and how great you have supported me, supported the kingdom to prosper.” Hissing out, crying out with his excited tongue. “You are a princess, devoted to the motherland. And here, to me, your protector of vermins and heathens.”
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…
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Protector of vermin and heathens, Amerie has already heard the same words everytime Ober puts her role on a pedestal. In every role she does for him before play. Every “exciting” scenario night. Her legs shake not knowing what will happen if she pushes further, “But why? I already know that I am a prin–” Ober’s quick hand crumples Amerie’s lips.
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“--How insolent of you, for me to remind you.” Keeping his voice low in boiling threats, “Don’t you get it? The people are here for you. And, since you are a princess, it is your responsibility for what I have said right? What I am doing for you is because of YOU. For all that you have done affects everyone in the kingdom. And you know why? Simply because you are a princess who does not know her place. So just keep your mouth shut and follow everything I say.”
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Piercing words leaves Amerie helplessly nodding and holding back a flush of tears. Her eyes lay murky and wandering, mind oblivious to what she has done except receiving everything Ober has to offer. What did she do in this tower other than simply being chained, watching performances, and being Ober's toy? She shut her eyes, admitting fully of her foggy guilt. “I am a princess who should have known what ought to be said”
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“Yes, and you made me remind you. How incompetent can you be after all the years of training” Dragging the girl's head, forcing her to stand as his large hand flies to pincer her frail thin neck. “Next month is your birthday. REMEMBER!? YOUR 18th birthday. Not mine, not my responsibility, not my obligation but YOURS. And the people are expecting highly for you. So, they prepare lots. For their princess, for their noble” the last few words grew dark, low and painfully slow earful.
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“i'm sorry” a pitiful, pitiful stutter in her struggle to breathe. And she can do nothing about or else Ober might get angrier. If he does, he would leave her with no sustenance, and her chamber would be flooded by rain water. “I Shouldn't have said against you lord magister. I have come to know my mistakes. Forgive me lord magister…”
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“Good, just like that. Be my obedient little noble. Now.” He turns his back, checking outside the window where light rain has fallen on the marsh and the fog has grown thicker. A suffocating cold pinch him to smile as Amerie coughs from behind. “Now, I want you to tell me what you want. Tell me what you always want as a powerful princess. You have POWER over EVERYTHING so tell what you want to do? You will choose what you always want to see, yes?”
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“...yes…” groaning in a displeasing tone
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Ober's smile flips to a frown, releasing the dirty sack to the floor. “YES!?” Bellowing at it.
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Amerie whimpers, “yes…”
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“that's a good girl. You always are a good princess.” Patting her shoulders and sending her to sit on the damp battered mossy stone tile
Creaking like a dying hare
“Over the next couple of months, I will be overseeing the preparation. There isn't much time and I want this to be the best festival of the year. Especially, a more memorable send off for you to become the best royalty of the House of Noirs. For the time being, I want you to prepare yourself for your birthday. Get ready with a speech and fix her head, fix your attitude mostly, it should be befitting well for a princess”
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Ober is leaving? The only words she heard from his glossed lips “I'd love that…” a tone mix of excitement and worry. If Ober leaves then would he close the tower's food hole where the rodents and water pass? But without Ober, she can also breathe freely and maybe scream out to the performers who have always end up screaming for help, alas, ideas that make her smile.
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“Mm~” he notices her little excitement, “I will prepare you the best stage, gown and colors, make you the best royal. To have the best and extravagant and exquisite 18th birthday party the kingdom would see. But I cannot just leave you alone could I. So, I'l make sure to still watch over you while I am away. Someone will be on my stead.”
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Ober leaves, suggests and a new person other than this heathen will be taking care of her. There is no such greater news that shows her teeth from how genuinely happy her smile is. But she immediately swallows it down as soon as Ober scoffs.
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A person other than Ober…The first time ever since an old man that she was so fond off-a sudden memory flashes before her when an old man plays princess doll castle with her. The old man who stood against Ober and made it possible for her to ‘learn’ differently than Ober. To her, he is a gentler ‘person’ who taught her how to be a ‘person’. He is the only person that comforts her in every sobbing mess when Ober punishes. He is the only person who made her genuinely smile and her heart skipped a beat for the first time. “O-old man Gnome…?”
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Ober raises a suspicious brow, The name took him by surprise, “No… do you still remember him?”
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“Very! I can see him playing save the princess of saviors with me... I can see him a lot from when he bathed me and share me delicious rat meats and tell stories and stuff where a lot of things happen. Old man Gnome, please let it be old man Gnome.”
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“...I don't know about the latter but I will make sure that you'll see him this coming festival. So, make sure to keep yourself beautiful till then little Amerie.”
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Amerie smiles wildly hearing Ober considers, and the possibility of old Gnome once again embracing her “thanks magistrate!”
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Ober leaves shortly after
Both sharing their own secret laughter
One genuine, one sinister
What does the festival hold?
And who was sold?
Many believes a princess to be told
But Ober is the master of untold
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Ober jumps off from the tower and Isaac sees him does so before the old man walks up to their golden carriage. But then he stops, and places a finger on his lips before the ground beneath him turn that of a swamp and the lord magister himself become a wraith that flies towards the boy. Isaac lets go of the reins, realizing that there are no horses. He runs away from the carriage before finding himself once again lost in a fog.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
