The Misanthropist's Wonderland

XVI: The Tower

Indigo water spilled delicately over the curved surface into the soft rectangular basin. As a result, the existing water formed small circles that expanded outward until the entirety of the pool was one entity again.

Mephistopheles found this concept absurd- it was unrealistic in practice.

Creatures do not have the mental capacity to make a mistake and simply come together again as if nothing happened.

He scrunched his nose, scooting his slim body to the smooth marbled edge above the turquoise water. Ruffled ebony hair shaded but did not fully cover his left eye, for a cream cloth eyepatch shielded it. Raising his right leg to pull up his raven pants, he dipped his big toe into the water below.

The smoke-colored rabbit on his lap didn't seem to appreciate this, squirming in a failed attempt to avoid the water below. Mephistopheles's lips curved into a faint smile, slowly setting the bunny to his side, comfortingly brushing his perched ears behind his head.

The approaching sound of heeled boots smacking against the ground interrupted the quiet scene.

Mephistopheles groaned audibly. How could one being make such an annoying sound with his feet?

He lifted his foot out, hastily fixing his pants as the rabbit hopped swiftly into a corner behind a quartz vase that held lengthy, thick leafy-green bamboo stocks. He raised himself off the ground, rushing over to the corner of the dimly lit pool room, kneeling on the floor, reaching towards the little quivering animal.

"Belphie~ c'mere.." He softly encouraged in a feathery, sing-song voice.

A pair of beige arms came reaching from behind Mephistopheles's hips. He blinked in alarm.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"Me? What about you?" A clear, oddly pleasant voice questioned curiously.

Mephistopheles scowled at the frost-haired boy, who was taller and muscular in stature, yet not older, not in maturity or otherwise. A heaping fur snow coat hung off his broad shoulders and, below, a pewter sweater with perfectly ironed black pants. Yule was a fitting name for someone who paraded around like it was always a celebration.

"You scared Belphie-"

"I'll retrieve him!" He beamed, shoving his massive body into the corner, wrapping his callus hands around the animal, and scooping the animal into his arms. Mephistopheles grimaced, looking toward the glass panels above. The sparkling night sky-speckled with stars and plants here and there, looked back at his wide-eyed unnatural amber eyes. He inhaled a deep breath. Where had today gone? His knees beneath him felt wobbly and tense as if chains were tied to his ankles, dragging him down. Yet his mind felt light as if floating somewhere, unbothered.

He glanced over at Yule, who was holding his precious rabbit by his front paws, dangling him.

Seizing his arm, he tugged on it. "Let him go, now," he demanded, not allowing him to reply. Instead, he ripped the creature from his arms. Mephistopheles inhaled, waiting a moment or two before collecting his irritation before speaking. "How's Ribbon doing?"

Yule met his gaze with delicate baby-blue eyes. Then, nervously, a chuckle slipped out.

"She isn't taking the news very well. Not from me, Sugar, or Spice. And Lord, certainly not Faustus.." he explained.

Mephistopheles adjusted the cherry cravat around his neck, scoffing. One reaps what he sows; this was no different. But, on the other hand, he couldn't exactly blame the wife of such an ambitious, albeit fraudulent, excuse of an aristocrat. This family was accustomed to dining in a hall, eating several course meals thrice daily. Their plates-plastered with elaborate arrays of foods throughout the span of the day. Peppered sunny-side-up eggs for breakfast, lox, and jasmine tea for lunch, and grilled asparagus, a side dish for cooked lamb.