Day 31: The Shadow's Ballet

Pumpkin / Cursed

There comes a time when you have to ask, in a situation facilitated by a system for humans by humans, who was actually happy?

Lorette was not happy. She had made a point of taking distance from romantic endeavours specifically because they were always so convoluted and particular. As if she was a round peg trying to be squeeze in a square hole. Yet there she was, pressing herself against someone else’s body in a slow intimate dance with a man she had absolutely no interest in.
Nikpmup was not happy. He hadn’t been happy from the start, ever since his heart was broken by his one true love. But all he wanted to do was to let it go and move on. How was he supposed to do that when his puppet-master pressed him against the back of the one who cuckolded him?
Adrian DuRaimes was not happy, and neither was Baguetta. They were promised to one another with a love hotter and more intense than a volcanic eruption. Yet he found himself in the arms of another woman as they fluttered across the dance floor. Or, he fluttered. She mostly appeared to imitate the convoluted ambulations of snakes with her legs, each time finding new ways to embarrass herself, her partner and his whole family.
DuRaimes’s mother, the countess of Gudaimeit, was certainly not happy. She had been at first, when she discovered the black lipstick mark on her son’s collarbone. Until then, the countless prestigious ladies who had tried to court him had been promptly rejected, and she had started to worry he would never marry. Imagine the abject disappointment when she asked about the hickey, and he pulled out the cookiest and most hairbrained woman she had ever laid eyes on.
It’s enough to make you wonder why all of humanity spend their entire lives pretending as if society isn’t one big curse.

“...You have to tell her.” Lorette whispered into Adrian's ear in a contemptible hiss as she leaned into him.
“You think I don’t know that?” He spat back quietly, “But with my mom, nothing’s quite that easy. Think she’s testy now? Well, just wait until I’ve told her I’m dating a monster girl. And not one of the less freaky kind.”
“Don’t see how that’s our problem.” Nikpmup snarled.
“Oh, I don’t know?” Adrian snapped back, “How about if the kingdom finds out you’ve been using monsters in your showmanship, it’ll be your head on a platter.”
Lorette gulped.
“With a side serving of pumpkin sauce.” He continued.
Nikpmup gulped.

“I know she’s got a bit of a mind of her own.” Lorette assured him, “Trust me. That hasn’t escaped me. And I’m not going to pretend it’s easy, but… She’s still your mother. Right? Then all she wants should be whatever makes you happy in the end… Even if at first it stings a bit.”
Adrian sneered at her, “Sounds like someone needs a crash course in how aristocracy think… See, she’s never just my mother. It’s never just her son that needs looking after. The way she sees it, the good name the DuRaimes lineage has made for itself throughout the centuries is far greater than her or me. We’ve got another two or three centuries of family tradition and honour to look out for, and we’re all expected to act accordingly.”
“Ugh… Now isn’t that a fine delusion you fancy-pants bought into?” Nikpmup snarled from behind Adrian’s back, “That family reputation of yers is just another dead thing. No way yer gonna run into it feelin’ sad or happy or crabby. Now, does it fit neatly decorating the chest of yer jacket? Sure. But if ya think it’s gonna be worth ruinin’ the life of the one being decorated, then ya got more guck between yer ears than I do.”

“Well, try telling that to my mom.” Adrian answered.
“I would, but that stick up my butt ain’t gonna let me.”
Lorette sighed, “It’s just… I think how we go about it is going to matter when we break it to her.”
“Oh, sure thing."Nikpmup spat, "And every minute we wait for that perfect line is another minute I'd not get our happy ending.”
“You mean we’d get our happy ending?”
“Hmm? What did I say?” Nikpmup asked.
Lorette cleared her throat, “I think I’ve had enough dancing for now. How about we wrap this up?”

“Charming couple.” The castellan mused to the viscount’s mother.
“Are they not just, lady Catalina?” The countess declared, forcing herself a smile bright enough to reflect contentment and pride, while faint enough to not be one of reckless indulgence, “I honestly was scared that no lady anywhere could offer my son the diverse range of exotic character traits that is required of him. I was afraid that perhaps I would have to make him settle. But I trusted him. And just look! Things turned out so sweetly.”
Catalina nodded, “Your son appears to be exceedingly clever. Witty, certainly. Does he by chance study anatomy like his mother?”
The countess DuRaimes turned her head, enough towards Catalina so as to glance towards her, without staring directly at her.
“Why, my lady… I am flattered!” She proclaimed, resting her hands in her lap, “You have heard of my work then?”
Catalina nodded.
“Oh, but I am afraid it is his grandfather he has taken from. He is decidedly a man of the blade. Why, he has studied under every swordmaster in Luckarette by now, and made quite the ferocious reputation.”
“Then perhaps he will become a Meruvean Knight.”
“Oh, but my lady… Was that your scheme all along?” The Countess elicited a giggle playful enough so as to assure the Grand Master it was no matter of mocking, but not so playful as to portray her as a child who never outgrew her infantile fancies, “Then you really should have come to me sooner, if that were the case. As you see now, he is rather smitten with his new consort. And it would ever so break my heart if I had to pry them apart.”
“Rest assured, I would never ask that of anyone who has found a spouse to make them happy,” Catalina stated earnestly, “It was actually you with whom I wished to have a word. Would you mind sparing me a second?”
“But of course. Not if you wouldn't mind giving me the same indulgence.” The Countess called for one of the pages dressed in colourful livery, whispering something in his ear. He nodded, and headed towards the viscount, to whom he whispered back. The viscount nodded, excusing him from his ‘spouse’, and headed towards his mother.

“Adrian, dear. Are you having a good time here?” She asked.
“Oh, obviously! What else can you expect from a plus plus sized monastery and military fort mixed into one? Watch out, church! Looks like we’ve got a new hap-hap-happiest place on Earth!”
“Now, now, what did I say about those snide remarks?”
He sighed.
She rubbed his cheeks as she continued, “I will accompany lady Catalina for some private discussions, before I join the other worldly nobles for a game of bridge. If you need me then I will be in the North Wing of the Low Castle. When I return, I shall expect you to be in your quarters. And your…” She looked over to Lorette, “...Spouse, in her quarters. I know how passionate young men like you can be. We do not want a scandal on our hands, do we?”
“No mother.”
“But of course, if you do happen to find another young lady who catch your fancy, then…”
“Mother, no. I would never do that to her.”
“What? I’m just saying.”
He sighed once again. Louder, “Thank you, mother.”
“Atta boy.” She clapped him on the cheek, “It shan’t take long. I promise.”
She turned to face the Grand Master, and nodded. Together they headed downstairs.

“I don’t think your mother’s very pleased with me.” Lorette divulged.
“I’d be surprised if she’s been pleased her whole life,” Nikpmup added, “Ever.”
“Sure. That’s fine.” The viscount grumbled, “She don’t need to be pleased. Just buy into it.”
He shambled forward.

Lorette half ran to keep up with him, “Hey, do you want us to send you-know-who back to your room?”
“...Not in the mood right now.” He insisted, increasing his pace, “Make sure to keep her company. And tell her hi from me.”

“What is the meaning of this?” The Countess uttered.
When she was led down to the damndest dungeon below the castle, the Countess had a feeling that whatever the Grand Master was about to show would not be a pleasant sight. Yet never could she have imagined what was hidden underneath the heart of Meruvia.
Before them was an angel, kneeling on the floor. Bound tightly in chains. In spite of her haggard condition, her beauty was nothing short of radiant.

“...I told you, what I show you here is of utmost confidentiality.” Catalina declared.
“...Kill me… Ugh…” The angel spat blood on the floor, between her knees.

The Countess recoiled, clasping her own mouth, “...That is not your divine envoy, is it?”
“What you need to know, Countess DuRaimes, is that the woman before me means the world to me. And I would never resort to anything like this unless it was absolutely vital.”
“Very well. I understand as much. So… what exactly do you need me for?”
“Are you not the DuRaimes who has dissected an angel?” Catalina asked, “You have published several tracts on angel anatomy in your days. If anyone can know what is the deal with…” She nudged the spot on the floor, “...That, then it must be you.”

“Fair, fair…” The Countess strutted around awkwardly, “But… I have never heard of an angel succumbing to illness before. I’d have thought it impossible.”
“As of now, Countess DuRaimes, impossible isn’t good enough for me.” Catalina insisted, folding her arms, “Tell me what you can divine from her condition. You will be greatly rewarded.”
The Countess cleared her throat and sighed. She approached the angel slowly. She growled in response. The Countess stopped, and looked back at the Grand Master, who had a look of deep apprehension in her eye.
She looked back at the divine envoy. She was bound. The chains had obviously kept her there for a long time. She was not going to suddenly attack her. She hoped. She stepped closer, and knelt down.
“How are you, little friend?” She asked, but got only haggard panting in response, “Do not mind little old me. I am merely here to check up on you. Make sure you are healthy.”
The Countess reached slowly towards the angel’s head with a shuddering hand. She gulped, and touched her forehead with the back of her hand.

The angel suddenly whipped her head up. She gazed into the Countess. Deep into her eyes. Her eyes spanned open, burning with shimmering gold.
The Countess recoiled. Not from fear. Not any kind of fear she could recall, at least. It was more like a magnetic repulsion within her psyche compelled her away.
The angel cackled, the manic laughter echoing throughout the dark chamber.

“Oh, you thrive in the light, but for what? That you decide on your whim what is illuminated, and what is discarded? But the truth does not vanish when left it in the shadows! There it dances! The wordless truth dances with the shadows. And all those who seek illumination are invited!”
The Countess was left gasping iin confusion on the ground, “...What?”

“Are you all right?” Catalina knelt down beside her.
“Y-yes. There is nothing wrong with her power. I would think she was orchestrating her illness. In order to escape.” And I can’t blame her, the Countess thought, but left unsaid.
“Are you certain?”

“In all honesty, my Grand Master, I cannot possibly be sure.” She admitted, “The constitution of angels eludes us all. We can never be certain what is occurring underneath. However, if a pathogen was indeed powerful enough to inflict harm on an angel, I sincerely doubt that she would be the first one you’d notice the effects on.”
Catalina sighed, “Very well. I appreciate it, Countess. You are free to now. But first… I need you to swear. On your life and the life of your son, that you will not tell a single soul what you saw here.”
The Countess picked herself up, “I swear.”