Lanky windows stood tall like a file of soldiers, reddish hues of the sun painted at their feet. Most of the room's occupants were already seated, and Ruxin felt a sharp throbbing when her eyes fell on the woman with purple braids. Augusta's residual guilt at failing to save her and relief at seeing her alive again ate at Ruxin. Nails dug into her palm and Ruxin reminded herself of her identity. Whatever skin she put on, she would always be herself inside!
Her mind was hauled back by the movements of the only prior occupant still standing, the same hulk of a man that came to Augusta's room. He pulled out the chair at the head of the long dining table, bowed at a right angle and returned to his seat.
Maybe in other times servants daring to sit ahead of their master would face the blade and a junior who did so before their parent would face the whip but Augusta considered them family and discouraged such practices. She encouraged them to eat at the same table and speak informally. Despite that, they refused to relent on waiting for her every meal.
Ruxin taking a seat was the signal for digging in.
Everyone had vastly different food before them. A ginormous black forest cake for the purple-haired woman, the light eater next to her had a bowl of gazpacho (veggie cold soup), meatloaf and salad for the youngest mousy girl, blue steak for the big guy and a four cheese pizza for the kid. Ruxin's was a bowl of minestrone, onions excluded.
She pitied the chef. Now, that was a staff deserving of pay rise.
Ruxin's fingers lingered on the metal spoon, soundlessly scooping the soup when she was assured that the table manners of this world weren't too different from her own. From posture to the very fingertips, that sort of innate grace and majesty that could never be sullied or undermined by anyone.
Unless she allowed them to, that was.
Ruxin's eyes flitted across the table covertly. No matter how palatable the food, the ardent scowl opposite her made it hard to swallow.
Across the long fan of her lashes was a young man seeming about 17. It was as though the sparse light in the room converged on him, casting a soft glow on his creamy, blonde locks and smooth, pale skin. And the most prominent of his being were the scorching red fire opals, often narrowed like a displeased cat. Anyone looking at them would find it hard to tear their eyes away.
The more she looked at his sculpted features, the more she felt that he was very much male lead material. The sort of bad boy with a tough exterior that teens love so much. And the thing about male leads was they came with stories of their own.
Lucero was a sickly and delicate child. He couldn't even leave his cot at 4 years of age, or feed himself at 8. And although his health stabilised as he grew older and his world expanded, he never found a sense of belonging... because he was a rare and despised half-breed, a child born from the union of a moonperson and a human. The discrimination cut deep but the deepest wound came from someone who should've been the closest to him. It was his mother, Augusta.
Birthdays, school meets, celebrations? She never seemed to be there. She didn't beat or starve him, but she didn't tend or care for him the way he saw human parents do. He could count the number of times they interact in a year with one hand, leaving out awkward moments of sitting at the same table without speaking.
She was a stranger in his life, just as he was a stranger in the place he was supposed to call home.
In his fourth high school, the Goddess finally took pity on him and the misfit found someone who gave him a sense of belonging. A human girl, doe-eyed, button nose and cherry lips. The class monitor too busybody for her own good, understood his loneliness, accepted his differences and saw him for who he was.
Which made Augusta the 'villainess' for keeping these lovebirds apart. Goodness, what was this script? Her family name wasn't Montague!
Thankfully, their story wasn't a tragedy... For them, anyway. Love conquered all and they lived happily ever, collateral damage aside.
Collateral damage aside.
When things were put in his perspective, he did seem a little pitiful, his road to happiness a tad too long. But pity was the extent of Ruxin's positive(?) feelings for him. A person like him who had everything but thought he had nothing was the most disgusting in her book.
Depending on his performance, she might kick him off stage. That was the privilege of a director. As for the rest...
Ruxin's eyes fell on each person, linking each face with a name in Augusta's memories. The people of the mansion were all here. In other words, one of these servants in the room was the traitor.
Slim fingers placed the metal spoon down. A qualified director must know how to move the cast to shoot a good show. Armed with the plot, Ruxin decided.
Start with her.
Head buried in cake, the unknowing purple-haired girl with smoky makeup shuddered.
YOU ARE READING
The Placeholder (World Hopping)
Adventure"You heartless bitch!" "Tut tut. Language, my dear. Better heartless than hurt like you, don't you think?" Ruxin thought she would live to the maximum lifespan but who knew a moment of thrill seeking would result in her demise? But the dice of fate...
