Ashputtel

VII: Asher

Walking down the stairs in my pure white suit with my hair still tousled back and  a vanilla colored mask in hand, I put on the cuff links that came with the ensemble. The shoes are brown leather.

I'm about to walk into the foyer when I feel hands wrap around my waist, something pressing into my back, causing me to shutter in disgust, something that bastard would undoubtedly take for a shiver in pleasure, as if I enjoyed being molested by him.

"You clean up wonderfully, Asher." he purrs.

"Thank you." I curtly reply, trying to get out of his grasp, but only really making things worse as I rub against... that.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Let me go, please." I beg, wanting nothing more than to escape this hallway.

"It'll cost you."

I disliked how he said that. Gods, don't let this be the day.

"Francis!" Franklin calls from the top of the stairs. "Where've you gone off to?"

He reluctantly releases me, going up the stairs back to his brother, and I sigh in relief. Being in his very presence made me feel dirty.

The twins returned to the base of the stairs ten minutes later, Francis laughing at something Franklin's said both of them having drink in hand.

They continued on with their conversation ignoring me before growing impatient as we all waited for Francesca to descend the stairs. Francis left me alone with his brother to go find her.

"That's a nice suit, but isn't it a bit easily dirtied?" Franklin comments.

I frown at this before he chucks his wine at me, effectively staining the entire front of my suit. I gasp in shock, this is not at all what I had planned for tonight. Mother was supposed to be the one to ruin it.

"Whoops. I can be quite clumsy you know. No matter, I'm sure you can clean it off yourself—wait, that's right! You can't. You can't do a simple cleaning spell, much less shift. Ashputtel, you're a hybrid on paper, but nothing more than a glorified human with healing abilities in real life. Truly, I have no idea what that twin of mine sees in you, but you should consider yourself blessed that he's bothered to give you the time of day. You have all the characteristics of an OSR and to be truthful, if it were up to me you'd've been left to the rats ages ago." he sneers.

I push past him running up the stairs, upset not because of my suit but because of his words. To call someone an OSR is possibly the greatest insult to ever exist. On sight rejections were always brutal. I just barely dodged Francis on my way up the stairs, moving past him and locking myself in my room.

I heard the muffled sounds of argument outside of the door, and chose to ignore it. Shutting my eyes tight, I did the one spell I could do. When I opened my eyes back up, I knew I was in my room but it didn't appear that way. I was on some farm miles away, looking out at the crops as wind rushed through them blowing them this way and that.

I sat on my bed, which resembled the bed of a wagon, left off to the side. I leaned my face towards the ceiling, feeling the ghosts of warmth from beaming sun, and felt a pair of arms come around me, whispering sweet comforting words into my ear.