“Miss …?”
She peeked open an eye. Her body was normally functioning now, with a steady breath and a steady thundering heart. It had been a few hours perhaps since Vitruvion had left and Stare had been left to her own devices.
Which meant figuring out that her brother was some form of undead slave to Vitruvion's villainous half-brother and actually coming to terms with the fact she was never going to get older.
She spied Desian, nervously at the edge of the bed with a wicker basket in her hands. From the basket came a slight rise of steam as well as a good amount of succulent scents. Meat, there was definitely meat in there.
Desian looked honestly fearful for her life. Considering what she had done to her, the fact that she knew what sort of pain she could inflict, Stare was hardly surprised. There was a reason, after all, why Vitruvion had her currently strung up here. In some ways he should have blindfolded her as they were her most powerful weapons but that was perhaps too far. She would not have forgiven him for taking away her sight as he explained her new identity.
“I apologise for harming you earlier,” Stare sighed. “I did not know what was going on. I thought I was … well. I was supposed to be dead.”
Desian paused and blinked a few times. “He said you are … immortal now.”
Stare grunted, finding the truth of it shoved in her face oddly satisfying. It also let her know that Vitruvion was in no way planning on keeping that part of her a secret. It was not like the treaty with his godhood after all, or the shame that followed her with slavehood. Instead it was a bright, significant truth that he was proudly proclaiming. Now that she knew at least. She imagined what she might have done if he had told her before she actually experienced dying … how she might have reacted. Certainly she would have been very, very upset.
I also did not know how and if it would work, how you would return until you did suffer death, came a quiet, contemplative reply. I would not have been able to answer many questions you might have had.
Back in my head I see, she dryly commented.
I have always been in your head, my dear, he replied, showing an image of his minor smile. But sometimes I have other things that are of more importance.
“Miss Stare, shall I come back …”
Stare focused again on the room, and the young woman standing there. She rolled her eyes a little and tried to concentrate on what had been said before.
“It seems that way,” she responded to Desian with a small frown in her tone. “Wait, you were here when I was brought in yes?”
Desian paused and nodded awkwardly. “Yes … Sir Elssmith requested that I and Demer watch you. He brought you in himself.”
“And here is …”
“The - the Hollow, Miss,” she furrowed her brow slightly.
“Yes, that is obvious, but where in the Hollow?”
Desian paused. “Sir Elssmith's apartment. This is the room his sister stays in usually.”
Ventrua. So it explained the comfiness of the bed at least and the finery of the place. Stare blinked and glanced around the room, seeing a small chest and a couple of chairs she had not taken in seriously. It was some form of guest room for his friends, then.
“And how long was I …?” What was the right word? Out? Unconscious? Dead? Lost in that world of clouds and dreams and paradise.
“It took twenty four hours before you were breathing again, if that is what you mean.”
She spoke with more confidence this time, as if she trusted Stare more. Maybe it was the fact Stare hadn't attacked her yet. Again.
So a whole day. Stare grunted, taking the piece of information and storing it away safely. She ground her beak together, still irritated in the ugly fact that this was it now. This was her inevitable life. Even death was not a barrier to Vitruvion's say on her everyday being and doing. No matter what happened - balls above, not even Raevin would be with them forever. He would stop aging yes, maybe had already as he was a high elf, but he could still die of mortal wounds.
“Miss, are you hungry?”
Hungry? She had not even thought of that. Before she had been terribly thirsty, but that had already been sorted. Hunger on the other hand was another issue, and now she considered it she noticed that there was indeed a gnawing presence in her guts and stomach.
“Yes,” she agreed, “I am.” Then she looked at her feet again and let out a very dissatisfied growl. “I'm guessing you haven't been given permission to release me yet?”
“Not - not until Sir Elssmith has been to see you again, Miss,” she nervously replied. “He …”
“Is the be all on the authority of my life, yeah I know,” Stare sighed. And she arranged herself to the best that she could, moving her butt to support herself better, and finding it irreconcilably annoying that her ankles were chained that way. Then she looked at Desian. “How do you want to do this then?”
And what enshewed was ten minutes of negotiation, more motion than anything on how precisely one feeds a kenku. Then a further ten of steady eating, a sour look permanently in Stare's eyes, and morsel by morsel dropping off food into her beak. With the woman already afraid of her, Stare had to be careful not to make any sudden movements or snap her beak parts too loudly. Gulping down larger pieces in her instinctive, throwback manner was highly dangerous and took thirty seconds of apologising before Desian continued.
It was nearing the end of the meal when the wooden door opened and Vitruvion came striding back in, his cane under one arm.
