'Morning'. In my blindness, it had been rendered a cloud-like word. It was an apparition which could take on any shape of my imagination as soon as I opened my eyes, primarily because I couldn't see it. If I wanted it to be raining, so it was- and if I wanted it to be sunny, so be it. The only thing separating my sleep from my reality soon became the glowing flowers Cacy had set on my table like she promised; and ironically, they were still something I could never quiet imagine myself.
Shimmer, shine, glow, light; those words did little to describe the sense of them. Indeed, they appeared to my psyche in a type of sight; but how could you describe something you could 'see' without your eyes? It was odd, perhaps because it felt like something was overlaying in the space which used to be my vision- and each day, I could feel it grow. Like how one is aware of the hollowness of their own throat; it was something that was both easy to ignore and easy to overanalyze.
And so, that was exactly what I was doing. After eating breakfast, I had made my way to the garden as was now usual, and while in the shade at the base of the tall tree felt the wind blowing through my clothes. Relaxing, I wondered if this practice was something akin to what the southern kingdoms called 'meditation'. Isn't that the goal of surrendering yourself to your mind in search of inner solace? That practice, for me however, did little more than allow my mind to drink in a deep rest.
Perhaps it was because I could feel the warm, kind touch of the sun upon the lower half of my face; or that I could feel the caress of its warmth through my clothes as if I was being held in a tender embrace. The sweet scent of the flowers became a cleansing incense, and the song of the canary had become a lullaby. The wind in the branches was a melodic hum, and the firm, stillness of the world around me was an anchor keeping me from drifting away.
So, it was when the calming symphony of those instruments was suddenly broken that I woke up, and for a moment, stiffened in fear.
In front of me, I could see the youthful glow of something quietly moving by my feet, the sounds of glass clinking and fake sipping falling upon my ears. Everyone at the estate gave me plenty of room, but perhaps it was someone else? Or was it something else?
"Madam, would you like more tea?" I heard a little voice whisper, my body flinching in surprise.
"Yes, Lady Margaret... Two sugars please." The same voice answered, but lowered comedically. "My, you pour the tea so gracefully, I almost forgot you hadn't debuted yet- Miss Margret."
A small grin etched into my teeth as the voice continued to play both parts of the, now dramatic, conversation.
"Ah yes... it's a shame my family couldn't afford to debut me this year; but I chose to invest my debutante fund for the demon subtigation. I heard the Belcliffe's didn't participate this year... How odd, since we're partying in this new green house. I came because I was worried for Madam, but perhaps I should be more worried about the countless civilians who are at risk of possession instead..."
The dramatic dialog was both hilarious and attention grabbing, especially when it was being told in the voice of a little girl- or should I say, 'Miss Margret'? Unable to hold back my laughter, my shoulders shook a a silent chuckle rocked my insides. Noticing that I was moving, the glowly apparition of the girl rushed closer before it paused; the color growing more vibrant as I sensed her from up close.
"My! You're awake! Will you play with me? My name is Eliza!" The lights reached out to me, and I quickly realized it was her hand. Slowly putting my wrapped hand in hers, I could have sworn I felt a faint shock from her small fingers; or maybe it was just that I hadn't so much as shaken hands with someone like her in a long while. Someone so small, so innocent- someone like him.
Shaking my head, I forced myself to forget that brief thought and to remain in the present- not the past.
"Aren't you gonna tell me your name?" My body once again flinched as she leaned even closer, the lights all blurring together into what looked like a blob of brightness, my sense tensing the muscles of my face as I pushed myself further against the tree, my neck suddenly wet in nervous sweat. My mind was swimming only with the sudden, aching inflictions of 'what if she can see my hideous skin? What if she can see blood seeping from my bandages? What if she's scared of me?'. To him I was a fairy; but to her-
"You can't speak then? Should I give you a name?"
Taking a deep breath, I forced my pacing heart to still as I took out my notebook and quickly wrote down my name. Silence lingers between us for a few moments before I heard her sigh, her demeanor quiet.
"To be honest, I can't read what you wrote down. Letters just look like inky worms to me." She chuffed. "My nanny is always bothering me to practice and practice but we barely have any time for playing anymore."
Eliza sat back down, and though I couldn't see her, I imagined she had a cute, youthful pout on her face as she complained.
"Plus, we never get to have tea time out in the garden anymore! I wanted to have tea with my new sister but no one will ever let me go visit her. I heard her room is in the south wing; and it's such a long walk from my room, I keep getting lost whenever I try to sneak out. Mama used to go to the music room in the south wing all the time but..."
Her words slowly drowned out from my ears as her chatter words floated around my mind fought to come to terms with what she said. Sister... Sister? Klinden had a sister? And this was her? Somehow, with a father and a brother like the Warren's, I never would have pictured such a sweet, innocent child to sprout despite being around the likes of them. One had an attitude problem... No; both had an attitude problem, and both of them were stuck up as-
"Hmmm... Do you like the name... Teacup?"
"..." Teacup? As a name? Quick to save my dignity, I shook my head before picking a flower and pointing at it, trying to give her a hint.
"Flower? Do you like that name better?" Her high pitched voice made me want to cry out in both adoration and frustration. Wouldn't even the type of flower be better? I couldn't tell what type of flower I was holding; but anything along the lines of 'Daisy' or 'Peony' would be better than just 'Flower'. What I did instead, however was nod my head, deciding it was close enough to the real thing.
"Flower it is then." She proudly announced. "I'm turning six in three months! How old are you Flower?"
Feeling my face heat up in the embarrassment that I couldn't simply write it down in my journal, I helped her count all the way to eighteen on my fingers. We struggled for a few seconds as we counted up to ten, but after using some hand gestures, she realized to keep counting. Signing to stop at 18, I was nowhere near prepared for her to exuberantly jump up an down while pouring to the brim with questions.
"You're 18?? What was your debutante like? Are you married? Why can't you speak? Also, you must have been really hurt to have bandages everywhere. Can you see me?"
Mentally, I responded to each of her questions, but given that she couldn't read, all I could do was nod my head in response to each rapid-fired question. At the last question, I exaggeratedly shrugged my shoulders before she started giggling; her bell like laugh causing something to both swell and ache in my heart. The small smile on my lips felt foreign, and even though it hadn't been long, my cheeks were already hurting just from the simple gesture.
"Flower, you are so silly. Ah!" I froze as I suddenly felt something cool and smooth placed into each of my hands, my mind foggy as I saw the light move, but nothing in it. There was a strange feeling which pooled in my throat each time something like this happens, even if it's as small as being given a teacup. Luckily, that feeling didn't have a chance to linger before Eliza quickly picked back up her scenerio.
"I'm Lady Margret and you're Madam Belcliffe, ok? And since you can't talk I'll talk for you."
Before I even had a chance to nod, she poured back into the story, her Madam Belcliff voice as fake poise and condenscending as comedically possible.
"A-Anyway Miss Margret, do you even know what tea we're drinking? I imported it from the east; not that-"
"Oh my, Madam Belcliffe! Is that.... your husband's rumored mistress that he's showing through the garden?"
Once again, my shoulders shook as a mute laugh hummed through my teeth and blushed my cheeks, my hand clutching onto my stomach as it ached beautifully. Looking up, I immersed myself in her imagination by opening my mouth in shock and looking around as if my husband really was parading around a mistress; and though it felt embarrassing- at the sound of her bubbled laugh, it was completely and utterly worth it.
"Miss Eliza!!!" Someone called from the patio, their voice domineering and stern. In all but a moment, Eliza let out a tired sigh before packing up the teacups; her warm fingers brushing against mine before she sprung to her feet.
"Coming Mrs. Baker!" The sound of her footsteps against the grass reminded me of spring rain, and though it was unlady-like to run, she turned on her heel before rushing back to me.
"You'll play with me again tomorrow, right Flower?"