It was later that night when she saw Lancelot again, for her dinner delivery. But, another surprise was in store, signified by a widening of the door. She stepped back as the man wheeled in a large cart that took up quite the space within the room. She recognized its contents immediately, it had not been what she had asked for, but so much more. Canvases in dozens of different shapes, hundreds of paint colors, a pile of sketchbooks, pencil sets, and coloured ones too. But, the piece that made her heart jump was the easel with its matching chair, carved in oak and stained a beautiful chocolate brown. She could hardly believe the sheer amount of stuff. She had expected much less, maybe a canvas and a set of half a dozen colours if she was lucky and master was feeling generous. There were so many items she wasn't sure where she was even going to put it all, and every time she pulled an item from the stack another sat below. It didn't seem to get any smaller with dismantling, like one of those magic bags that you could always reach into and pull another item out.
He bought all of this?
It must have cost hundreds, maybe even thousands of dollars. She knew he was well off, it was rather obvious, but he was just blowing money now. As much as she was grateful for his generosity, it also kind of made her angry. As a person that lived paycheck to paycheck, unable to do what she loved simply because she couldn't afford the materials to do so. She had gone to bed irritable so many nights, angry at her own incompetence to make enough to afford even the basics. Yet, for people like him, a wave of their hand and thousands of dollars disappeared in moments, without even a notice of its absence.
Zuni had been taken away for a walk, so she spent the time after dinner rearranging the room with all the new items to distract herself from her missing dog. After what had happened with Maxwell, she was still apprehensive every time the dog was taken from her, even if she knew they would give her back. It was an instinctual response, almost the worry of a mother over her baby. For the first time, she got to design her own workspace, pulling the furniture to leave the far corner of the room empty to fill.
She picked up another pack of canvases, and found her eyes wandering back to the camera. She wondered if he was watching her at that very moment. It gave her the sudden urge to force down the ends of the shirt she was wearing, maybe put a brush through her hair. The feeling of privacy violation had yet to subside, she still had to get used to her new life, at least for now. She could be watched at any time, it was time to adapt. She was doing what he told her to do, cooperating, but that wouldn't last forever and she suspected he knew that.
It was the later in the night when she really perked up, after her dog had been returned to her. He watched her over the monitor as he sat in his office. It was late in the night, there was no light but the desk lamp shining on the paperwork that he was supposed to be doing. Instead, he took another cheek of vodka, watching as she danced around the room, holding a hairbrush like a microphone as the dog followed her around, jumping hazardly at her feet
"I used to follow
Yeah, that's true
But my following days are over
Now I just gotta follow through"
She sang, granted the quality of the microphone on the camera could use a little work, but he heard every word
"You were the restless one
And you did not care
I was the trouble boy
Lookin' for a double dare"
He caught the first smile on her face when she sang, so mindlessly.
"I won't apologize for
The things I've done and said
But, when I win your heart
I'm gonna paint it cherry red"
He snorted when her voice cracked halfway through the last bar, running hands over his cold cheeks. He hadn't heard that song in a long time, a good classic it was.
He leaned back in his desk chair, staring at the roof just briefly, trying to think of something, anything. But, at that moment, his mind felt so empty it made him sick. But, in came that voice, bleeding back into the moment.
"Things could be different
That'd be a shame 'cause
I'm the one who can feel the sun
Right in the pouring rain"
Her voice wasn't too bad, palatable. It kept him awake when he was about to dose off, her choice of genre wasn't exactly meant for relaxation. She seemed more eager for the yells, for the jumps and screams of emotion rather than the soft tones of sadness or melancholy. But, he noticed how every song she sang, she certainly didn't skimp on the feelings embedded within the words, it expressed a mental acuity of sorts, perhaps one he didn't have since listening to it had caused such a foreign linger within his head.
"I won't say where and
I don't know when
Soon there's gonna come a day, baby
I'll be back again
Yeah, I'll be back for you
You see, I'm saving up, my love"
He leaned forward in the chair, turning the monitor slightly to avoid the glare. She danced like she was carefree, but he didn't really feel like she felt that way. It was more like she was acting to stave off the surfacing of the inevitable. He knew that feeling well.
Into the midnight blue, oh, oh
Midnight blue, oh, oh
Midnight blue, oh, oh
The deepest midnight blue, oh, oh
-
The song that Harmony sings is Midnight Blue by Lou Gramm
- Peaches
YOU ARE READING
His Angel
Romance"You have a name, don't you?" his voice was deep and irritable, but rather calm. Her eyes lifted just slightly, now staring at the edges of dark hair that hung an inch or two from his shoulders. Her lack of answer seemed to annoy him further, she co...
