Teetering on the Brink

Lilac

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"Your behaviour tonight was disgraceful Charles," Mrs Adler said, two manicured nails resting on a sharp cheekbone and a third delicately brushing the plush underside of her lip, "and I beg you, stop slouching. It is unbecoming."

She cut elegant figure despite the chill of her words; framed by the glittering darkness of the winter sky outside of the carriage window, the light of Collipsium and her sister constellation Septra causing the cluster of bloody rubies at her pale throat to glint.

Charles straightened and lifted his eyes from the toes of his shined ebony dress shoes, fixing his gaze on the laced collar of Mrs Adler's dress. She didn't notice, her brief brush of attention already diverted elsewhere to more important matters.

His tears had dried cold on his cheeks and what little remained of the moisture had already slid down the slope of his neck and chilled the skin of his chest. He sniffed messily, smearing what was left of his tears away with a hand.

The fragile cavity that is nestled behind the protective cage of his ribs felt hollowed out. It ached, familiar and deep.

The carriage jostled suddenly, one wheel evidently having slipped into a pothole and Charles clutched tightly at the plush leather seating. The resulting thrill of fear remained coiled in the tightness of his frame thereafter and he didn't manage to shake the feeling.

Mrs Adler remained poised, if a little ruffled and no longer poised on the frame of the carriage window.
She reached and drew the velvet curtains closed, obscuring Collipsium and Septra's eternal feud in the heavens from sight and turned her gaze once more to her son.

Charles dared to draw his own focus from the safety of her delicate lacy collar and up smooth chin and the sharp angles and contours of her face to meet the deep set grey eyes. Mrs Adler's gaze was flat and calculating, her shapely mouth thinned as she looked steadily at him.

"You deceived Matilda, Charles." She said after a pregnant pause, a finality chilling what little familial warmth there had been in her eyes. "You manipulated her thoughts."

Nausea roiled in Charles's stomach and he swallowed, fear tingling in his fingers and toes. He desperately wanted to tear his gaze from that of the woman in from of him. The reward would not be worth the consequences.

Mrs Adler's eyes bored into his own and Charles began to tremble, already regretting what an ill thought out idea and dreading its consequences.

"You made her to forget about tonight's dosage, didn't you Charles?" His mother said, clipped and cold.

He couldn't answer but finally tore his focus away from the piercing nature of the opposing one. It was as good as an admittance of guilt.

Chilly satisfaction softened the hard angles of Mrs Adler's face and her plump figure relaxing into the leather seating. Her expression was clear of passion, smooth and calm.

She smiled thinly and Charles blinked back the beginning of tears of an entirely different kind. He couldn't control the extent of his trembling and had to place his hands in his lap to prevent evidence of it being seen.

"You lied to me, manipulated Matilda and caused a scene at the event I had hoped to present you at." She continued softly. "A scene that likely resulted from your own inability to employ your gifts with anything other than deceit and malice."

The tears brimmed and bubbled over though not a sound escaped his mouth. He could offer no defence (none that she would accept, at least) and could not attempt an offence if he wished to retain his privileges.

"I suppose your collar just happens to not have any remnants of tonight's dosage, am I correct Charles?" She questioned distantly, calm as an undisturbed millpond.

Charles nodded shakily and didn't dare to brush the strand of ginger hair that flopped into his vision at the action.

Mrs Adler leant forward then, extending a spider-like hand and brushing back the stray strands of ginger hair from his face. It was uncharacteristically gentle.

The calm placidly of her face rippled as she stared at him, grey gaze tracing the tears stained the face of the child in front her.

Charles flinched as an angular finger brushed curiously at the fresh tears spilling down his cheeks, blurring his vision.

The woman pulled back slightly, frowning, before reaching down and fingering the tight bulk of his collar, testing its tightness.

The boy grit his teeth as the jostling of collar pinched his skin. The thing whirred quietly in the silence: tiny cogs clicking, levers pulling and wires sparking.

"Why is it that you continue to defy me, Charles?"

The question hung in the stillness, transparent in its hunger for a justification from the child, yet the longer it lingered, the less Charles felt inclined to answer it.

The remainder of the trip continued in customary stillness, Charles angrily smearing away his tears the instant Mrs Adler's attention focused elsewhere. Frustration welled up within him, heating his veins and gritting his teeth.

One day he wouldn't have to live under the thumb of this woman. One day he would be able to employ his gift however he should choose. One day...

The familiar crunch of gravel beneath the wheels of their carriage grated on Charles's ears and dread roiled thick and heavy in his gut.

Matilda was there to greet them as they exited the carriage, soft brown eyes glassy and ordinarily tidy hair dishevelled. Charles couldn't bear to look at her for more than a couple moments, feeling sick as Matilda's eyes flickered unsteadily and seemed unable to focus.

She was accompanied by Paul, a potbellied and usually cheerful man, who maintained a firm grip on her elbow as if she might crumple at any moment. He wouldn't look at Charles.

The firm grip Mrs Adler maintained on his shoulder tightened at the sight and Charles felt the smallest tremor ripple through the long digits.

"Charles missed tonight's dosage. He is to given no supper and the dosage to be administered through the IV. Be on your leave, Matilda. You're in no shape to deal with devil's spawn."

The servants hurried to comply and Matilda was ushered back to her room. Charles was guided to his own rooms, shaking, as Paul approached him, expression grim, the vial of sickly lilac fluid ready.