Post by Ang on Apr 12, 2019 17:39:08 GMT -5
Elrood.
Near the Outer Rim.
Despite distance from the core worlds, the capital city of Elrooden knew how to hold its own. Once the small headquarters of a mining corporation, the Buffton Trade Cartel turned it into a galaxy-class glistening gem of a rim settlement. Statues of Maltez and Xavier were found in every courtyard, in every park, and at the gates of the Buffton palace, all but abandoned in the absence of the was-once Emperor and his deceased younger brother, the powerful woman that got tossed between them, and Maltez and Xavier’s gaggle of bastard children that were now seeded around the galaxy, save one.
Palaces are cold places. Depending on the political climate, it could ofttimes feel colder than space itself. To be fair, the residence was rarely a place for warmth, and didn’t exactly boast a collection of happy memories for any members of the powerhouse family.
It was dark. Sure, lights could be turned on, but why? There was enough ambient light coming in from the barrage of artificial luminescence that poured into the large fortified glass windows. Perhaps the ornate chaise she was sitting on was purple. No, maybe blue? It didn’t matter, it looked black and only reflected a varied shade against the hem of her nanosilk gown and elegantly pedicured bare feet.
A gilded cage is still a cage.
“Has she actually left the room at all today?” A whisper echoed out in the gaping maw of a black marble corridor.
“No.” The reply attempted to be softer. “I think she assumes she can’t leave.”
“Well, after being in a cell for, what? A year? With scrambled mynock eggs for brains, what do you expect?”
“Shhh. We must be kind. She needs us.”
“But she’s been here now for several months. There is no reason why her behavior should be that of such deep depression. Her cousins made sure she wanted for nothing as long as she stays put. Has the doctor been again, recently?”
“Yes. She is in perfect health. Her amnesia and memories have fully returned to normal.”
“Then why her continued state?”
A moment of silence, followed by an even quieter attempt at a whisper, no less amplified than the others, “Do you know nothing at all of who sits in that room? Her father is dead. Her mother won’t make contact. The father of her child is dead. Her second husband won’t see her or won’t acknowledge her. Her daughter was taken from her for her own safety and adopted by another family. Her uncle is imprisoned, and her cousins have seen to it that she never tries to leave this palace again. Have you seen the barricades?”
“Let’s be real, Mora, it will take much more than a garrison or five of Antor’s soldiers to contain her. It’s a wonder she hasn’t killed herself with drugs, yet.”
“She’s not using them. She barely drinks anything other than water. If I knew better, I think Her Grace is planning something.”
A snort, “Grace? The Daimon is long gone. We are not required to provide such titles.”
“Xai will do fine.” A towering figure of a woman was casting a shadow upon the two caretakers before they had realized it, and her voice struck a shiver into both of them, paralyzing their desire to turn and look upon the occupant of the room.
The one named Mora swallowed, “I’m sorry, Pr---Princess, er, Duchess?”
“You’ve called me Xaiyla my whole life, and who the fuck cares?” The ice blue eyes of Xavier Buffton shown down from a face that looked more and more like Epiphany Meridian with each passing year. Her hair was long enough to tie back, but a clear line was shaved up her left side above her ear, and the city lights danced across the colorful warning label of tattoos that cascaded from her neck to the unknown.
The other caretaker glanced upward, and then down again, “Is there anything we can get you, Xaiyla?”
“Peace.” Xaiyla sneered, “A little goddamn peace and quiet, while I figure things out.”
Her voice cracked down the corridor, and a guard on each side of the hall stepped forward, and blocked each egress with a lit weapon, ready to take aim in the direction of the Buffton should she act out any further. Xai acknowledged them with a defeated laugh.
“Good thing I want for nothing while I’m figuring this crap out.” She spat, “You two are going to get me killed, dammit!”
The door to darkened room whooshed shut in her wake, leaving the servants in its echo, being stared down by the barrels of guns.
Near the Outer Rim.
Despite distance from the core worlds, the capital city of Elrooden knew how to hold its own. Once the small headquarters of a mining corporation, the Buffton Trade Cartel turned it into a galaxy-class glistening gem of a rim settlement. Statues of Maltez and Xavier were found in every courtyard, in every park, and at the gates of the Buffton palace, all but abandoned in the absence of the was-once Emperor and his deceased younger brother, the powerful woman that got tossed between them, and Maltez and Xavier’s gaggle of bastard children that were now seeded around the galaxy, save one.
Palaces are cold places. Depending on the political climate, it could ofttimes feel colder than space itself. To be fair, the residence was rarely a place for warmth, and didn’t exactly boast a collection of happy memories for any members of the powerhouse family.
It was dark. Sure, lights could be turned on, but why? There was enough ambient light coming in from the barrage of artificial luminescence that poured into the large fortified glass windows. Perhaps the ornate chaise she was sitting on was purple. No, maybe blue? It didn’t matter, it looked black and only reflected a varied shade against the hem of her nanosilk gown and elegantly pedicured bare feet.
A gilded cage is still a cage.
“Has she actually left the room at all today?” A whisper echoed out in the gaping maw of a black marble corridor.
“No.” The reply attempted to be softer. “I think she assumes she can’t leave.”
“Well, after being in a cell for, what? A year? With scrambled mynock eggs for brains, what do you expect?”
“Shhh. We must be kind. She needs us.”
“But she’s been here now for several months. There is no reason why her behavior should be that of such deep depression. Her cousins made sure she wanted for nothing as long as she stays put. Has the doctor been again, recently?”
“Yes. She is in perfect health. Her amnesia and memories have fully returned to normal.”
“Then why her continued state?”
A moment of silence, followed by an even quieter attempt at a whisper, no less amplified than the others, “Do you know nothing at all of who sits in that room? Her father is dead. Her mother won’t make contact. The father of her child is dead. Her second husband won’t see her or won’t acknowledge her. Her daughter was taken from her for her own safety and adopted by another family. Her uncle is imprisoned, and her cousins have seen to it that she never tries to leave this palace again. Have you seen the barricades?”
“Let’s be real, Mora, it will take much more than a garrison or five of Antor’s soldiers to contain her. It’s a wonder she hasn’t killed herself with drugs, yet.”
“She’s not using them. She barely drinks anything other than water. If I knew better, I think Her Grace is planning something.”
A snort, “Grace? The Daimon is long gone. We are not required to provide such titles.”
“Xai will do fine.” A towering figure of a woman was casting a shadow upon the two caretakers before they had realized it, and her voice struck a shiver into both of them, paralyzing their desire to turn and look upon the occupant of the room.
The one named Mora swallowed, “I’m sorry, Pr---Princess, er, Duchess?”
“You’ve called me Xaiyla my whole life, and who the fuck cares?” The ice blue eyes of Xavier Buffton shown down from a face that looked more and more like Epiphany Meridian with each passing year. Her hair was long enough to tie back, but a clear line was shaved up her left side above her ear, and the city lights danced across the colorful warning label of tattoos that cascaded from her neck to the unknown.
The other caretaker glanced upward, and then down again, “Is there anything we can get you, Xaiyla?”
“Peace.” Xaiyla sneered, “A little goddamn peace and quiet, while I figure things out.”
Her voice cracked down the corridor, and a guard on each side of the hall stepped forward, and blocked each egress with a lit weapon, ready to take aim in the direction of the Buffton should she act out any further. Xai acknowledged them with a defeated laugh.
“Good thing I want for nothing while I’m figuring this crap out.” She spat, “You two are going to get me killed, dammit!”
The door to darkened room whooshed shut in her wake, leaving the servants in its echo, being stared down by the barrels of guns.
