Day five.

With more food deposited down her gullet, even if it was the few scraps of bread, meat and the odd boiled vegetable, the kenku gained strength. Vitruvion seemed content with her eating, as long as it was something, and the bottles of water were steadily emptied as the day wore on. With the knowledge now of the door, and more clarity on what Vitruvion’s main concerns were - namely, her safety, health and sanity - her attention came to settle on the fact that she had to admit that this was it. It was her life now.

Indeed, for over a year she had been in his company, working under him as first a project, then rising to housekeeper, and then steward. She had wielded the power over all his companies, been his representative here, within the Hollow itself, and caused him now to place a hold on his personal projects so that he might better protect her. When he had said that she would not leave his sight, she had not realised to what extreme that meant; literally he was having his letters and other correspondence delivered to the Hollow via couriers. Not one of them seemingly had concerned her directly, for he had said nothing as he rolled his eyes and scribbled out replies, then given them back to Zulon for eventual reversion.

There was frustration, however, building in him, and she could see it in his eyes. Only two times did he leave the room, and he had both times locked the door behind him. On the fifth day when it happened, and he exited without a word, Stare paced, moving as slowly as her still strengthening legs would allow, and using as much furniture and her strengthening wings for support. Her mind became filled with thoughts that she had very little choice currently with what was happening in her existence. And it seemed she was going to have to live with that, like she had done so far in the year. Here she was, almost eighteen, and a mature kenku but never going to age. A young woman stuck in a world that she had never wanted, but she had come to adapt into and even excel in. Somehow she had had a god fall in love with him.

So really, did she have a choice at all? Well, yes perhaps she had a choice in how that life was going to work out. Already she had persuaded, through arguing admittedly, to let her outside of the Hollow ‘when she was healthy’. Now she was working on that health, building on her strength, and already with her emotions in check. Far was she from the state when she had, for instance, woken up from her first and only death so far. Or the first day here, when she had been curled on the sofa, lost in a misery of tears.

Sounds began to come from the door. Twisting her head she remained standing, balanced on foot, stretching her wings and flexing the toes of the other as he came through, his white hair pulled back into a ponytail and dressed in cleaner clothes than he had left in. His brow slightly rose as he saw her out of the sofa, but he nodded a little and took a step in. A curious face from behind him leaned in, which was shortly joined by another, and Vitruvion kicked the door sharply in their faces. Stare was taken aback by the ogling, and was strangely relieved in that single moment that the beings on the other side could not get in.

“Clothes,” he grunted, lifting up an arm from his body, and in it Stare could see a carefully folded and neatly tied bundle of fabric.

“You were at the mansion?” she questioned, not hiding the envy in her voice.

He nodded once, setting the package on the end of the sofa, “Yes, if only briefly. Mer had some issues she needed addressing and -” he curled his lip with distaste, “that does not matter. It was an opportunity to gather supplies.”

“So you are allowed to leave,” she grumbled. “But I am not.”

“For one, I am me,” Vitruvion said, none too humbly. He began to walk over towards the armchair he had been occupying before he left. “Second, yes you are powerful, more so than the other guards, but in your current state potentially not the most astute to your surroundings. And as previously addressed, I do not trust anyone but myself specifically to keep you safe in this current moment of time.”

“Zulon, Eirik and Jordain did a fine enough job whilst you were away,” she savagely commented.

“Hmm, indeed, and managed to let you slip from their presence. My dearest,” he picked up a cushion from the chair and plumped it once before placing it back down, “there is no arguing this point.”

“Dickhead,” she muttered as she grabbed the fresh clothing. “I am having a bath.”

“Be my guest,” he replied dryly.