The Jester of OZ

Chapter Nine

The words formed in her mouth before she could even think about what to say. The spell cast upon her didn't allow her lips to say what she wanted, but at the same time, it was extracting what was exactly inside her. "You... You scare me. You make me wonder if fear is greater than love. When...." She swallowed hard, trying to push the words down her throat. The Jester smirked at her hesitation, "Fighting the spell won't help you." He told her. "W-When..." She tried to stop, but that only caused him to usher her farther. "That's right. Keep talking." Her other hand was resting on the table, grinding against the marble as if it was her only lifeline. It wasn't painful per-say, but it was far from comfortable. Noticing this, he placed down his deck of cards to grip her hand as if comforting her. "Don't fight it, just speak." When she opened her mouth to take a breath, she couldn't stop it. Her fingers gripped the colorful leather on his hand, and her mouth seemed to speak on its own. "When you kissed me I liked it! THERE! I SAID IT! Part of me wants to just slap you right across the face to wipe that silly grin off of it." Amber stated. The Jester chuckled, "I'm flattered, perfectly flattered. That wasn't so hard was it?" He asked, causing her face to heat up. "Yes, yes it was." She said, turning her eyes back to her cards. The Jester left her hand alone after that. Even through his gloves he could feel her tremble, but he didn't want that. He wanted her to enjoy herself too, he wanted her to open up to him. "Any threes?" She called. "Go fish." He sighed, almost disappointed that the conversation didn't carry on from there. The game progressed, she would call, he would degrade her, he would call, and then she would degrade him. It went back and forth until she finally gained a chance to ask a question as well.

Taking two cards from him, she decided to go in a different direction. "What's your real name?" That surprised him, but it was a question he was glad to answer. "Getting personal, are we? Well, I suppose it would be a relief for someone to know. Before I was cursed, they called me Dexter."

"Dexter?" Amber repeated, not expecting that name at all! She was thinking it would be something creepy and edgy or perhaps something bad and tough. Instead she got Dexter, a name that was quirky and easy to say even with the spell on her voice. "What? Where you expecting my name to be Norbert? Doof the dummy? Or maybe Jack the Jokester? Sorry to disappoint, dollface, but I was saddled with Dexter." He laughed. Amber couldn't help but smile slightly at that, laughing on the inside. When he saw her lip curl up into a subtle smile, he felt a spark of triumph grow inside him. "I see that smile missy! Why in OZ would you hide it?" Amber hated herself for chuckling, but she couldn't help it. "I hate my laugh..." She admitted, calming down. "You hate your laugh..." He shook his head, processing that small sentence as if she had said something foreign. "Any fours?" Again, he had guessed right, causing her to hand over the three cards she had collected from the deck. He removed his own card and stacked the other fours in front of him with victory. Amber grew nervous for the unnatural feeling of the spell to hit her again when he opened his mouth to ask her yet another question. "Why do you hate your laugh?"

Amber couldn't resist the spell any longer. The last question he had asked her already seemed to drain her energy, and she knew that if she did she would feel even more tired already. Being tired meant being vulnerable. "B-Back in Kansas... I used to get made fun of every single day. People would throw crumpled paper at me, trip me, a couple of people used to chase me home every day... trying to hurt me. I used to pick up whatever I could to defend myself... sometimes that meant picking up a rock or a tree branch just lying on the ground. If you ask your little minions, they'll tell you just how good my aim is." She told him, referring back to when they caught her in the haunted forest. The idea of a flying monkey trying to escape from a rock in her hand made him grin, but the rest of what she told him felt different. "Their laughter became so tiresome. I eventually got tired of my own." He supposed that her answer proved to be her way of surprising him. She was about to call again, hoping to change the subject only for him to stop her. "Bullies, eh? That's where we share a common enemy. The Wicked Witch, she wasn't the gentlest sister in the land y'know. She used to give me the same medicine those other Kansas dwellers gave you. If I stepped one foot out of line, she would do unspeakable, painful things to me. Things that I've forbade anyone but myself from mentioning..." He frowned, something inside him feeling a new emotion he couldn't describe. Was it pity? Attraction? He didn't know. As for Amber, she grew nervous when he frowned. From what she had gathered so far, he only frowned when he was genuinely angered or saddened. He was scary when he didn't smile. Moments of silence passed, she didn't know what to say in response.