I See What You Don't

Learn Your Place

     The rest of your supper went rather smoothly with no more near deaths or general blood shed. The bite wound Bela so viciously penetrated into your arm was closed and starting to fade rather rapidly. All that was there by the end of your feast was two indentations of puncture holes. You were unsure as to how your skin was regenerating at such a rapid rate, but figured it was completely normal and you had just not been attacked for a while. It is easy to forget traits about yourself when events no longer spur up to make you notice them.

     Talks at the table this evening were general discussions about the maids, the home, Mother's family, and our living quarters. We were to be shown our rooms once the banquet was over. You did not talk much after the catastrophe you caused earlier, so most of your precious moments at the table were full of eating and listening. Bela inquired the most out of Mother. She wondered about the rules, law and order, do's and don'ts, and the day to day routines. She wanted to make sure she always performed at her peak. Bela was very much about structure when it came to planning her time.

     Mother in a familiar fashion lightly picked up the silver bell and gave it a gentle sway as to not bring more stressful attention to her servants. Per routine, all seven of them filed in from the right of you. The "knife-girl", as Cassandra had named her, had a white bandage wrapped tightly around her left hand. The dressing would need to be changed soon as you could begin to see little flecks of maroon poke through the layers. You felt your eyes twitch at the sight and turned your head back to Mother as fast as you could. Mother made sure to rise from the table in a certain way as not to startle any of the maids. Her hands held one another in front of her chest.

"That was wonderfully prepared, my daughters and I thank you. I would like to apologize on their behalf for their behavior tonight. Please relieve yourselves for the next two cycles so that I may work on their... shortcomings." Mother tilted her head to the left in a very subtle nod of dismissal. All the female servants folded their hands in front of them and deeply bowed in appreciation of the kindness the lady of the house had just shown them.

     You had noticed that Mother had respect for her workers as much as they had for her. Though very much different lifestyles, you could see the relationships bonded between them all. The Head Maid was around Mother's age it seemed, with nearly black hair and green eyes. Her skin was tan in color and had lines of stress and life cracking on her face. Mother appeared more preserved in her youthfulness, but maturity had made her even more beautiful. The two women had several small conversations with only glances between them. You believed that she had been there the longest and therefore Mother was more lax with her due to it. She was the only maid that the Lady referred to by name: Viviana. Mother strictly called her 'Vivi'.

"Daughters, do make sure that all of you follow me this time."

     You knew she was speaking of earlier when you and Bela had strayed briefly from her and Cassandra. Because of this you made sure to be the first one to stand at the table. You were almost quite literally on your mother's heels as she bent through a doorway back into the main hall. Bela was behind you to the right, and Cassandra was behind the blonde on her left. You felt as though Cassandra had begun to make it a habit of being the first one in, and the last one out. No matter the pattern that the three of you had formed, as long as you were behind Mother then that was all that mattered.

     You gazed once more at the beautiful collection of white and yellow lights dangling from the ceiling. Taking a deep breath while walking, you closed your eyes for a moment to the world to take in the warmth of the sparking fire. There was a great peace about this area. The ambiance was welcoming and calm. In the midst of your many collective thoughts, you had failed to hear a lack of clacking shoes. Mother's strides weren't nearly as long as she had mentioned them to be. You misjudged the distance between you and her very wide, and firm rear end. Upon re-opening your eyes to the beauty of your home, you were instead greeted by a flash of off-white cloth and a smack of your face into a wedge of sorts.