The Perfect Servant

Chapter 16

AN: Hey guys! So sorry for such a long wait! Time got away from me. College can be brutal at times, and then my mind isn't always so willing to work with me when I sit down to write. I agonized over this chapter, and it's definitely a more uneventful one. It's more of an introspection into Syla and her relationships with others. There is a scene I really like at the end that is kind of confusing and strange, but I'll just let you know, there IS a full conversation going on, it's just kind of in code. XD Hope you enjoy, please lemme know if you see any typos, and lemme know how you felt about this chapter. Thanks guys!

PS. I made a decision on casting. I know, I know, I've already changed it twice, but I won't change it again, I promise. the new model I've picked for Syla is Saule Silinyte. (pic above) Also lemme know if you guys have any ideas about cast for Alexandre and Aravos. I'd love to see your ideas, and maybe I'll find one of them to fit my vision enough to cast them. :D

...

I woke up not long after, given the darkness still clinging to the sky. My back and head ached, and my throat felt scratchy and raw, but nothing I hadn't had before. The pain had already faded a bit from its original agony, and so I sat up from the floor, scooting backwards to lean my body against a pillar. I flinched at the slight sting of pain of hard stone against my bruised back,adjusting to make myself as comfortable as possible.

I knew I should head back inside the estate, perhaps report to Aravos or Alexandre, but I couldn't bring myself to stand. It felt like forever since I'd truly had a moment alone.

Now, strangely, I did. It wasn't as if I was that far from the house. I imagine if Aravos tuned in, he could probably find me, maybe even Karissa or Balon could as well. Regardless, I got the sense that no one was listening in, and no one was searching for me. I didn't know how long that would remain, but I reveled in it.

I leaned my head against the pillar, giving another wince of pain, but resting there regardless. I sighed heavily, expelling the breath from tired lungs. Every part of me felt tired; my arms, my legs, my eyes, my heart, my mind. I doubt there was a part of me that felt rested.

Perhaps this was the way I would die. Exhausted, beaten, body too tired to fight against its assailants. Maybe it would be peaceful, like those stories about humans who manage to survive long enough to die peacefully in their sleep in old age. Maybe it would be painful like breathing in water, wanting to fight the waves, but limbs tangled in seaweed, and oh would giving in be so much easier. Drowning wasn't the worst way to go, but I certainly wouldn't call it the best either. I suppose it was preferable to starvation or disease or abuse.

Unwittingly, a bitter smile had curved up my lips, I realized with a passing thought. This line of thought wasn't uncommon for me, in fact it was so familiar to me, it was almost like wrapping myself in my mother's old comforter, finding warmth in its layers and drifting off to the knowledge that just for a little while, everything would be okay.

It didn't escape my knowledge that thinking about your death and being comforted by it was morbid. I doubted I was the only human who felt that way though, living in the world we do. As morbid as it was, it was ironically almost optimistic; to think that death would be better, that maybe I'd be free, or go somewhere a little less miserable. That maybe, just maybe, I could be reunited with my mom.

It was silly, believing something better waited. Hadn't the world taught me better than that?

And what Isolde said...

I rubbed my fists into my eyes, scrubbing at them even before the wetness could reach them. I would not cry, not even while I was finally all by myself with no one to know.

I would know.

And I would feel lesser for it.

Her words...