Update! Finally! I had time today because it's first semester finals week. For the rest of the week, we have HALF DAYS!! Anyway, here it is. Enjoy.
...in which the blues overwhelm me...
I dumped the lifeless body over the Condlees Bridge, a short walk away from Lord Vasari's House. The Lyesol River waters won't likely cough up this baggage for a couple of months if I'm lucky. Beads of sweat ran down my forehead and I was positively exhausted from carrying all that dead weight all the way from the House, but it was all worth it.
At least I could check this petty thing off my list and keep secrets where they should be-away from other people.
Humming to myself, I took my time returning to the kitchen. It still amazes me how the House could have more than a dozen back doors. Hardly anyone besides me ever used this one that I used just now, otherwise knows as the long way with its quiet, empty halls. Some of the doors I passed by hadn't been opened since the late Lady Vasari had passed on. Using the dead lady's old quarters was particularly useful when you wanted to go through the house unnoticed.
To my left, a door opened by itself, making my heart race. Just a little bit. Not a lot. I'm guessing it was a stray current going through the house.
I wasn't too keen on imagining the vengeful spirits of the dead were to blame.
It was really dark,already evening actually, and I didn't really want to look inside the probably dust-covered room, so I simply shut the door and continued to my new room Leah so graciously left me. I quickly forgot about this scare by the time I reached the next floor.
By the time I was upstairs, I was still pretty much proud of the clean work I did of the little situation this afternoon. I failed to notice the other presence in my new quarters until I closed the door behind me and began-almost-to undress.
"Now," I jumped at the voice. "If I was a man, meaning you harm of course, you would be violated by now."
Recovering took a few seconds and when I did, I picked up the pitiful remains of my dignity and rebounded from the scare and insult. "Now, if you were a man, you would've been dead by now." I countered. "Or I would have let you live, but helpless to stop me from stabbing an eye of yours with the fork over there," I motioned to the table near me. "and gouging out the other with the spoon. You would've been helpless as used the breadknife to severe your head from your body and...and...place it on this table! You would be left with a few minutes of life as you watch me proceed to cas-" I caught myself there and turned red, realizing I was babbling nonsense.
The owner of the voice was speechless until she began-out of nowhere-to laugh hysterically. "You...you're...so..."she wheezed and could not stop laughing. I hoped she die from lack of air right then.
"You scared me half to death," I reasoned.
"I would have never noticed!" She broke into a fit of uncontrollable laughter yet again. I was surprised no one burst through the door to see who the laughing maniac was. "Really Eleyna? A breadknife? I don't think that's even possible!"
When she finally stopped, she had to wipe a tear from her eyes. "Or maybe it is." She smiled wickedly. "Have you tried?"
My incredulous look sent her on another fit of giggles. "I'm glad I'm not a man then, sister, or who knows what horrors my decapitated head might be forced to bear witness to."
I sighed, "It was because you scared me!"
"And you wonder why I think it's my life's purpose to do just that every time I see you?" She reached inside a bag-wherever it came from-and took out a dark cloak.
My old dark cloak. How nostalgic.
"I thought you threw that thing away? Char, I didn't know you were a packrat."
Though I couldn't see her face, I instinctively knew she had rolled her eyes. She flung the cloak at me; then waved a hand as if to brush my comment away and tell me to hurry up-tempus neminem manet-and it would likely take ten or more minutes to get to the Meeting Place, depending on where they're having it tonight.
"Why I've always been like that, Eleyna. I'm just good at hiding it. There's plenty you don't know about me. The Mysterious Sleeping Beauty. The lady enigma. Asleep in the day? Nocturnal in the pursuit of her trade?"
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. Which were green by the way. The same shade as hers. "Be careful oh-so-mysterious Sleeping Beauty. Your job description is starting to sound a little too much like a whore's."
Char harrumphed and roughly grabbed my arm, leading me to the window.
I protested, "Watch it! You're nails are digging hole into my arm, lady enigma."
"Oh nonsense, Eleyna!" she smiled sweetly. "Do I look like I care, dear?"
No, she didn't. But that's besides the point. Char nodded her head to the ground a few storeys below. All of a sudden I didn't want to go to the Meeting anymore.
"Jump." She commanded.
"But it's too high!" The servants' quarters were on the first floor, but since I was now the girls' personal maid, my quarters was a closet-sized room down the hall from theirs. Did I mention it was on the third floor?
Char raised her eyebrow as if do say "Do I look like I care?"
I sighed. Here goes nothing...
Barely did I remember not to scream as I realized I was falling through empty air. Dearest, darling sister had so kindly pushed me out of the window to hurry me along.
The two of us arrived at Georges' Tavern on the Bush unharmed. Mostly. Traveling with my older sister is in itself a hazard. Who needed thieves at your back when you had a sister inclined to using you as a knife-throwing target. Warily, I nodded to George Herbert, the eldest George of the tavern, as I passed him.
The old man winked amiably in reply and then turned back around to grimly stare down his drunken customers who were too far gone to notice me and Char or the fact that Herb was giving them his evil eye.
Char entered the Room Upstairs first.
Personally, I thought having the Guild's Meeting in a Room Upstairs was a daft idea. I mean, think about it, now they can't have a meeting in a one-storey house. There'd be no "room upstairs" unless they fancied braving it out on the roof.
"You're late." he said gruffly, right before throwing a kitchen knife-because according to him ordinary throwing daggers were clearly overrated-and managing to take Char's hood off with it and pin it to the wall behind her.
That wasn't the surprise. George Harvey, the younger George of the tavern, always did that. I bet he practice every morning just so he can. What shocked me this time was the color of Char's new hair underneath the hood. I had no idea she had developed a liking to unconventionally colored wigs.
Her head was blue.
"Well?" Char turned to face me. "Aren't you coming in?"
tempus neminem manet = latin for "time waits for no one"