horology | the darkling

middle woman

whatever it takes - imagine dragons

Whatever it takes
'Cause I love the adrenaline in my veins
I do whatever it takes

/

'everybody has a chapter they don't read out loud'  - unknown

-

seraphina

Genya burst into the room without knocking. A hoard of servants followed hot on her tail. Seraphina groaned the let the book drop from her hands where it bounced on the soft blanket. 

Genya shot her a glance that one might shoot a spoiled child. Genya marched over the flung the curtains open. Thunder boomed as Genya's white kefta swished into place, illuminating her beautiful fire-coloured hair and creaseless face. Seraphina rolled her eyes; leave it to perfect Genya and her perfect kefta to make anything dramatic.

'At least you showered.'

Seraphina pushed herself off of her bed. She reached for a hair brush from her white wooden dressing table but Genya swatted her hand away. Hard. Serphina scowled and withdrew her hand.

'Forgive me for asking but what the hell is your problem with me?'

If Genya was surprised she didn't show it and she said nothing. Genya gestured a manicured hand at a seamstress and then towards Seraphina. The honey blonde girls got to work immediately, fussing about Seraphina with measurement ropes and other instruments. One of them kept her head down and refused to look at Seraphina, as if she was scared for her life, but her nimble fingers did their work quickly. The rest didn't care, they gawked at her with a bemused but cruel expression. Out of Genya's observant eye, the modesty of being a servant was gone. Within 10 minutes, all the measurements were done and the girls gave a nervous bow and retreated into the red-haired Grisha's shadow.

While Seraphina was being fitted, her eyes did not leave Genya Safin's figure. Genya had the same thought. They both glared at each other in a curious game of staring. Seraphina observed the looks that passed Genya's face carefully, trying to find her real motif underneath the splendour of being a Tailor. But Genya was as good as transforming worthless people into royalty as she was at concealing her emotions. Seraphina got nothing but a cold metallic stare.

A perfect hand dismissed the girls who scampered off, quietly shutting the door behind them. Giggling whispers from the hallways sounded like the annoying buzzing of insects to Seraphina. She dismissed the thought that she was the subject of the majority of palace gossip from her head.

Genya surprised her as she quickly rushed over and drew the curtains closed. An uncomfortable darkness settled like mist into the room, despite the illumination from the single small chandelier high above. Before she knew it, Genya had sat them down on the bed, a worried expression crossed her face, a single shard of sentiment escaping from a tiny crack in her composure.

'You have to stay away from Michail Sidorov.'

Seraphina's head spun. Sidorov the Lieutenant General?

'Excuse me?'

Genya nervously looked around, expecting somebody to rush in at any moment. There was only one expression on her face now: distress.

'The Darkling doesn't like it when other people mess with Grisha he has his eye on, especially the lieutenant commander.'

A knot of agitation formed at the pit of Serphina's stomach. What? She refused to believe that the Darkling had been keeping tabs on her. But something else replaced her fright. A twisted glee. Her magic was working much better than she had ever expect. One glance and the Darkling was already pondering over her.