Scenario 3Mature

She wakes up next to him, as always. She isn't surprised that he hasn't moved her. Well, maybe a part of her is...she must be crushing him by now. Yet...he hasn't complained, or even commented on her weight. Granted, she's still probably underweight, so he must think of her more of a blanket than a burden...

"Ah, the lady has awoken." One of the acid servants acknowledges her stirring. Though she knows he knew the exact moment she woke, even before lifting her hand to touch his arm. "How are you feeling, my lady?" The acid servant goes on, just as another servant, a more toxic acid, glowing brightly green, walks in. "I suspect your pillow was to your liking?" He serves her up a cup of green tea, setting it on the desk in front of them.

They always, always ask her questions, though she never responds. She guesses it must be because they know she likes being treated normally. Her thoughts are just as potent as words, in their case. The acid servants, Miloh's creations, somehow can read her mind easier than the other humans can read her body language. Though she's never spoken a word to the servants, they seem to like her. More than they like Miloh, anyway.

At the mention of Miloh in her train of thought, she lifts her face sheepishly to look at him through her eyelashes. He can be haughty and distubringly cruel, but...strangely, he's never boasted about how much she loves him, or how she prefers him to the rest of the humans or creatures. She's seen his most cold-hearted side, but she's still so in love with the fragile heart he's hiding under all those poisoned barbs and careless actions. Sometimes she wishes he could show his humane side--the one he lets out when they are alone and at their most intimate moments. But she knows he can't. He can't or he'll risk losing the estate and the wealth he has to protect and keep the city going, to have the citizens residing there happy and stable.

Standing nearby, the first acid servant, called Seth by choice, smiles down at her. He doesn't help in telling Miloh how she feels. He knows that she'll find a way to do it herself. Possibly with her actions.

The second acid servant, which has no name that she can remember, bows from the door, aimlessly walking deeper into their study-bedroom after Miloh's curt nod. "My lord, the venom has been tested and proved as deadly as you made it out to be." The servant sets a small wooden box on the desk, backing away when Miloh tilts his chin off the perch of his palm.

"Is it, really?" He smirks devilishly, opening the box with his free arm so as to not jostle Clockwork still leaning on him. "Let's see here then."

She tries not to tighten her grip on Miloh too noticably--though he's more than likely felt it already--when he pulls one out, holding it with nimble fingers, balancing it dangerously where it can fall and simply...end his life sooner than she'd know it. But she watches, grey eyes calculating how to get rid of it fastest if he ends up dropping it--though he won't, because he's Miloh, and he won't make such a silly mistake.

He studies the glass dart, smirk wilting slightly when he sees a distortion in the color of the venom. "Well, that's odd." He murmurs under his breath, so lowly that only Clockwork can hear. Seth inclines his head as if to ask a question, but knows better and instead remains silent. "Demonstrate for me how it works, will you?" Miloh grins at the acid servant, an enraged glint in his eyes.

The unnamed servant blinks at him, opening his mouth to ask him to explain how he was to demonstrate--there were no volunteers for this project, so... And then it dawns on him. "My lord, please, I don't--"

His words are stopped by a hardly noticeable thump sounding in the air, almost muted.

There's a split second of stillness, and then the servant begins to tremble, closing his mouth and sealing it with strings of acid to prevent the venom from escaping. "I will go, before the explosion has a chance to begin and you all are put in danger of being poisoned. Excuse me, my lord and lady." He coughs around the acid-puke, already turning to walk out to the hallway, his green-hued body shimmering with a life-threatening glow.

Seth, from where he stands, reaches a hand out, then withdraws it. Though he doesn't know every one of his kin, he still hates to see them die. It's a sad fate, like most other creatures.

There's an earth-shaking explosion, and, with the splatter of servant innards, the venom disappaites.

Clockwork hides her face in Miloh's side, sliding her other arm around his waist. He hates to see her small show of discomfort, she knows, but she can't help it--not with the sudden death--despite that the death wasn't a human one. She just doesn't feel quite right after seeing such a sorrowful sight. Seth, slightly behind the both of them, lets out a sigh. "My young lord, if you could refrain--"

"He's replaceable." Miloh interrupts, waving a hand. "There will be more of his class of acid servant."

"All the same, you wouldn't have to keep creating more if you would simply stop killing them." The acid servant replies, as if he hadn't been cut off at all.

Clockwork sits up, grey eyes spotting the time on the clock perched above the doorframe. And, as sure as ever, Miloh switches from his lounging chair to his desk chair, and Clockwork stands, wrapping her arms around his shoulders so he doesn't have to ask her to do so. He smiles, a genuine smile showing nothing but the contentness of a lover with the one they cherish most. She'll just...attempt to talk to him for Marco about this incident tonight, when they are alone in the room, and Miloh isn't as pressured to keep his mask of indifference on. She'll convince him...she hopes. Seth doesn’t meet her gaze even as he detects this thought from her. He’s known the Master of the estate long enough to understand that he won’t change.

Clockwork frowns lightly over Miloh’s head, sliding onto the arm of his desk chair so she can sit comfortably and snugly next to him.

Sometime later, after they are finished with work and contracts and signatures, resting in the lounge chair just before dinner, Miloh twists around and embraces her, lifting her chin with a finger so he can gaze at her eye to eye. "How are you feeling?" He asks, and she gives him a tiny smile, tenderly caressing the side of his face and brushing the choppy fringe of his from his face.

She whispers, hardly a breath, with the voice she never uses, "I'm fine, Miloh."

She'll never know what hearing her voice does to him. Even just his name--he wishes he could hear it for all eternity. Maybe it would help him get through all the horrible things he does with ease. Her prescence is enough though, and he's more than satisfied to have her near him. Especially within contact. Her touch gives him strength, and reminds him why—even after everything he’s done—he’s still doing what he has to do.

He presses his forehead to hers, and sighs softly, quietly.

The End

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