Out of Character:
Closed to the demon of the night...



Light filtered into the parlour. Slow and lazy, as the orange globe of the sun broke the horizon. The sky had begun to change an hour ago, the dark sin it had become turning a grey and then slowly even that melancholic colour was drained out to produce a slash of pink and orange, with the bright shine of azure behind it. A'rai watched it all with tired eyes. The normal glimmer and dance of the emerald was gone, replaced by weariness and worry. She'd slept not a wink the entire night, and imagined she looked quite like it too.

A book on demon summonings, possessions and fusions lay before her to a page describing the dangers of allowing a demon to enter one's body. She'd read it about twenty times, but her brain had refused to absorb the information within. All night she had stared at that book, flipped through the different passages contained within, but the calculations of her brain refused to work. For once, she was not five steps ahead, but two behind. For once, she was left the puppet on someone elses strings and she liked the feeling not. The only place A'rai enjoyed being controlled and dominated was in the bedroom, and even then she rarely allowed anyone to do so. That required a certain amount of trust, something she could ill afford to give any man.

With the rising of the sun, the house slowly came alive. She could hear the servants waking from their slumber to prepare for their daily chores, only an uncertainty settled over the whole of the household, as news of the night spread from mouth to ear.

"Lady A'rai."

She blinked, trying to clear the fog from her mind, but in doing so felt a desert of sand move across her eyelids. She grimaced and rubbed them, trying to pull some kind of energy from what little stores she had left. Turning towards the source of the voice, she saw her maid Valeriya heading towards her in sure strides.

"The house is waking, my Lady, and the servants are unsure of what to do. They already gossip." The young girl informed her.

With sure hands she grabbed the tome from the table and closed it, hiding the cover behind a dust rag she pulled from one of the many pockets lining the drab grey servants dress.

"Of course, summon the servants to the kitchens and I will make the formal announcement." A'rai mumbled, her tongue felt thick and her mouth dry. When she looked for something to parch it, all she saw was an empty brandy glass sitting on the side table next to her. The spectacles her father used to read the morning paper were next to it. Her lips pulled down in a frown as she tried to remember how much of the amber liquid she had consumed. In the end, she supposed, it did not matter.

Pulling herself from the large, over stuffed chair, A'rai turned from the now cold fireplace, the blaze having burned out hours ago, and headed towards the door.

"My-my Lady, you would see them like that?" The question hung in the air between them.

Befuddled, the noble looked down upon her dress and realized she still wore the house coat from last night. Drak'shal's ink black blood covered it, and her skin, though much had flaked off during the eve. Still, she imagined she looked a right mess at the moment and addressing the servants as such would not help the situation.

"Valeriya, gather the servants in the kitchen," A'rai told her, a hint of authority finally returning to her weary voice, "and tell them to enjoy a long breakfast. I shall be down when I am decent."

Valeriya bowed her head, mousy brown hair cascading across the thin frame of her shoulders, before she turned and left the parlour. The girl had been of quite some use during the eve and was beginning to show A'rai her backbone and intelligence. She hoped it would only continue. Turning, the noble headed to the servant stairs in an effort to avoid her own staff.

*~*

"I'm sure most of you have heard the rumours by now." A'rai began as she looked across the expanse of the hot kitchens. The large space was filled with the household staff, all 23 of them, and she could still smell the remains of their breakfast. The fatty grease of the bacon and the aroma of freshly baked bread seemed to permeate the place, or perhaps it seeped out of the wooden cupboards hanging over top the large stove, blackened by years of use. Two pots of boiling liquid remained on the burners, merrily bubbling away.

The servants stared at her with a mixture of uncertainty, mistrust, open worry and confusion. She knew many of them could care less about the news she was about to impart, aside from how it would affect their daily lives and livelihood. And frankly, as long as they didn't spread rumours unnecessarily about her, she could care less for them.

She took a deep breath and attempted to meet all their eyes as she stepped towards the large wooden table that separated her from them. "I'm sad to inform you, that they are true."

Murmurs spread through the lot of them. Mouths flapping open and closed as the soft cadence of their words filled the space. A'rai waited, adjusting the drab, dark grey skirt of her mourning dress and clasping her hands in front of her. After a moment, quiet returned and the eyes once again found her.

"He was murdered last eve, during his return home." This time, when the collective voices tried to rise once more, she silenced them with a gentle raising of her hand. She had not the time to deal with these idiots and very little patience after her sleepless night. "An investigator is already looking into the matter and will hopefully punish those responsible. But now, I find myself in an awkward position as the head of this house."

Tears welled in her eyes and she choked them back.

"I will keep you all, if you wish to stay in the household, if you do not, I will not hold it against you. Today, you may have the day off with pay. I have some matters to attend and then I wish to be alone." She could see the sympathetic looks upon their faces and the eyes filled with pity. Under normal circumstances she hated receiving pity, but this was the reaction she had hoped for. "Thank you for the loyalty you showed my father. I can only hope you will give me the same. You are dismissed."

Turning sharply, A'rai left the servants to their own devices. The smell of cooking food made her sick anyway. She couldn't think about eating when all she wondered was whether Drak'shal had spilled his guts (and perhaps his head) to the investigators and what that could potentially mean to her.

Heading back to the parlour, feeling slightly more revived after forcing herself to deal with something, A'rai threw open the doors and strode towards the bar. She grabbed a fresh brandy glass and the crystal decanter from the table, ignoring the inner voice that warned against this. She didn't care if Drokof was supposed to be coming here. She needed her brain working and a bit of alcohol should help grease the wheels. At least, that's what she told herself. She ignored the flutter of nervousness in her stomach, logically explaining it away as hunger pains, or perhaps she was just close to her moon blood.

Pouring a hefty amount into the glass, A'rai took it and the bottle to the fireplace. She flopped down into her father's favourite chair--it still smelled of him--the cushions enveloping her body and begging her to let all those tight muscles relax. Raising the crystal glass to her lips, she took a long sip. The burn and tingle of the alcohol warmed her straight to her stomach. By the third drink, she could feel it in her arms and legs, that wonderful heat and relaxation that seeped into her.

When she tipped the glass towards the ceiling and drained the last of the brandy, the gears inside her mind finally began to turn. A new plan formed, and with it, a wicked grin spread from ear to ear.