Ξ——————————————Ξ l a b y r i n t h 5 Ξ——————————————Ξ
"You and I drink the poison from the same vine."
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February, 1939 Bavaria, Germany
SHE didn't know why the Herr was so enamored with her. It was strange, the way he looked at her; watched her. She kept her expression utterly passive as she danced across the expansive ballroom, used for officers and their partners when a government celebration was thrown. It was empty, apart from her and Herr Schmidt, who leaned against one of the round tables, watching her.
She sidestepped and spun, pointe shoes hitting the ground with ease. She fluttered smoothly across the ground, bowing into a plie before falling forward into a penche. The move would have been perfect, impeccably fluent, if not for the blades of glass embedded inside her pointe shoes. She blinked as her toe pressed against a sharp piece of glass with all her body weight.
Her shoes were so stained with her blood that there was no notable difference.
But the sudden increase in pain made her stumble and she collapsed on the floor. Her eyes lowered to the ground as she felt a thrum of warmth travel down her neck. Not only had she disappointed Herr Schmidt, she'd disappointed her father.
She was weak.
Her palms pressed flat against the ground as she took a second to steel her nerves. The moment of reprieve from standing on glass bits was immense, and she had no desire to stand again. Her eyes grew dull as she prepared to push herself upwards.
A hand pressed against her cheek and she lifted her head.
Herr Schmidt towered over her, gazing down at her with a certain glint in his eyes that made her stiffen. Her eyes quickly darted away but his grip moved, tightening under her chin. She blinked profusely as she lifted her eyes to him again.
He placed a hand on her head and ran his fingers through short locks of hair.
Zeit couldn't help the way her eyes fluttered shut, a soft sigh escaping her lips. The touch felt concerningly nice– she didn't know why she yearned for such a motion when she never received such kindness before. Perhaps that was her dilemma; this kindness, this lack of brutality.
It was perplexing.
Her father kept her pain tolerance rather high because his proposed affection followed unconventional methods. She knew her father sought to protect her from those of the mortal world, including the Gods and Goddesses that she rarely came across.
