Setup #1: Cain's floor

[Crystallyne]

[Character POV: Luccia]

Dear god, why did Martin have to show up here, of all places? If I don't fix this, Kaine will end up blood red all over. And that would break Merry's heart. I have to fix this.

"Yes, Martin, I understand," I say, continuing his wish of the deception. I haven't even told Merry that Martin is my brother, not Julian.

"Martin, this is Miss Merryweather, Count Cain's younger sister. And these are the members of the band 'Endorphines'. This is Kaine, the lead singer. This is Die, composer and violinist."

I gesture lightly to each person as I introduce them. Now is the time to show my brother all the manners he's tried to teach me for my position in society. I straighten my back and shoulders and fold my hands demurely in front of me as I speak, continuing to introduce all the band members.

"Merryweather, would you please go get Mr. Riff and tell him that Martin has a message for him?" I ask Merry in a polite-older-person-who-has-authority voice. Merry opens her mouth to object but something on my face stops her. She didn't get that smart by not observing her surroundings. She accepts the fact that I know more than she does right now about the situation and slips off to do as I had requested.

All right, one problem down. Next problem: find a way to keep Martin from killing Kaine.

The silence in the room is very tense and strained. I desperately try to think of anything to keep brother distracted.

"Oh, Martin, these gentlemen live on the sixth floor of the building. Have you heard any of their music yet?"

As brother's face tightens, I wonder how I blew it. Something else I should have known about him and didn't? I'll have to ask Julian later.

Just as I'm about to give up, Merry comes back with a protesting Riff. As soon as he sees Martin, he gives Merry another Look, probably thinking that she's been doing more plotting.

I wonder what they think of each other? The thought randomly sweeps accross my mind as they size each other up.

[Crystallyne]

[Character POV: Martin]

Well, Riff looks a little rattled. Good. That means he's already had to deal with some parts of this situation. I want to get this over with quickly.

"Mr. Riff, I have a personal message for you from my master that must be delivered in private. Is there a place we may speak, or would you prefer a different time today to receive this message?"

Riff is trying to act composed, but I can still tell he's under strain. I do not intend to leave, however, without 1)giving my message to Riff and 2)Luccia. I will not tolerate anyone insulting my sister, and I memorize the lead singer's face for future retribution. 'Kaine' Luccia had called him.

Riff is very astute, as I have already learned from my few meetings with him. He knows that I have news that he needs. He must have to read others emotion on a daily basis. I sigh slightly, wondering what Yuki-san has gotten me into now.

[Carole]

[Character POV: Cain]

Letter opener in hand, I’m still contemplating my next course of action when there’s a knock at the door.

It’s Riff. I recognize that knocking.

Not wanting to seem like I’m in dire need of help, I wait a few moments before saying, “Close the door behind you.”

I don’t look up, but I hear him enter the room and close the door, followed by his footsteps towards my desk.

"Your hands...!"

I look up at Riff, and I try to decide what would be the best thing to tell him. I decide that a vague response would do.

"There were... circumstances. Never mind. I don't suppose you know where the tweezers are kept around here?"

Horribly embarrassing circumstances, where I’m forced to spend almost an hour in a death trap that’s being mistakenly called the complex’s Kitchen.

He hurries out to find the tweezers I requested, but comes back with his entire first aid-kit. I wince every time he pulls a splinter out. Finally he’s finished with one hand and…

Jerking my hand away I utter one of my more colorful curses. The blasted disinfectant he’s using feels like he’s burning my fingers off.

"It's important to disinfect your hands as well, Master Cain."

"I know! But, Christ, are you using straight vitriol?"

"Iodine, sir."

"Haven't they invented anything better than that yet?" Preferably something that doesn’t burn as much.

"I'll investigate the alternatives available in this country, sir. If I may -- your other hand...?"

I sigh and glare him thinking, And you have time for that when…?. I keep that thought to myself and give him my other hand. Watching him as he’s removing the splinters, I can tell he’s trying hard not to ask how I came to look like this. I try to steer him away from those questions.

"I suppose it's far too much to hope that you've locked Merry in her bedroom to prevent her from compounding her mischief with those bohemians in your absence?"

"She is in Miss Luccia's supervision at the moment, sir."

“Hm,” is my only response. It’s not that I don’t trust the girl, but Merryweather can be very pushy. Not just anyone can keep my sister under wraps.

Riff finally finished pulling the splinters out…but he hesitates to put the iodine on. Trying hard not to laugh, I say, “You'd have been a terrible doctor.”

Riff flinches. “I'm sorry that my clumsiness has hurt you, sir...”

I feel a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

"I mean that you'd never be able to do half the things medicine requires to be done to patients. You're too bloody tender-hearted. Now, that sick bastard Disraeli -- I dare swear he's never had a moment's hesitation over making a patient scream at a bonesetting or cautery... but you're just too damned gentle. Give me that bottle."

“Master Cain—“

Before he can make anymore protests, I take the bottle from him and finish my other hand myself. Swearing, of course, the whole time through my teeth.

The stinging finally tops and I can speak again without using obscenities.

Well, that’s done and over with. Now…

"I want another bath. Badly. Go see to it, will you?"

Riff leaves to run the bath and I’m once again alone in my study. I take a few moments to put everything back in it’s place.

I forget to tell Riff about the Dr. knowing of Yuki-san’s absence.

I sigh again, and stand up wearily. I’ll mention it soon, but first I need a bath.

I exit my study, closing the door behind me, and continue down the hall and away from the conservatory. I take a right and see the double doors leading into my room.

My room and study look very similar, the only major differences being the furniture. I have several more bookcases in my room containing volumes that are for my eyes only. The fireplace lays dormant as I haven’t found much use for it.

One of the lamps has been tuned on, which means Riff has already been by. I make my way towards the door in the left wall which leads to my bathroom. Kicking my shoes off, I open the door and walk in. The tub has finished filling and I peel off the dirty clothes, dropping them into a heap on the floor.

The hot water feels good, and the dirt and grime washes off easily enough. I am careful though about my hands. With them being hurt, it makes it a bit tougher to get all the dirt out of my hair.

After finishing and not wanting to get out just yet, I drain most of the dirty water and refill it again. I lean back and drape a wet wash cloth over my eyes.

Riff is probably busy with Merryweather again. I really should go out there and take over. He’s been busy all day with those letters and the lovely job Yuki-san left him.

I’m thinking this, but my muscles refuse to leave the warmth and relaxation of the bath.

And he’s probably berating himself over the state I’m in, even though I insisted he stay behind. And now that he’s has to take over the business of maintaining the entire building he’s going to have more than three times the usual work load, not including the things he does for me.

I sigh heavily, and drape an arm over the side of the tub.

Why did she have to pick my Riff to run things while she’s gone? He’ll try to juggle both jobs and will likely run himself into the ground.

I can’t ask him not to follow Yuki-san’s request. He’s very well the only person in the building with the experience necessary to keep everything running smoothly.

Taking the wash cloth off my face I turn my head to the side. A change of clothes is folded and stacked neatly on the counter.

I’ll simply have to tell Riff that as long as Yuki-san is away, it’s not necessary for him to do the things he usually does for me.

It’s not something I want to do…but I care too much about him to see him stressed out over the buildings management and my petty needs.

Feeling more dejected, I sink lower into the tub and try to find something else to occupy my thoughts. #nosmileys#nosmileys

[RisuChan]

[character POV: Riff]

Mr. Martin, Miss Luccia's family retainer, has always struck me as an exceedingly resourceful individual. If Yuki-sensei has somehow seen fit to recruit him to help manage the chaos of this place, I will be greatly relieved. I try not to let myself contemplate the horrible possibility that the message might be more along the lines of "warnings about other floor inhabitants" rather than "volunteered assistance." I hope the universe is not feeling quite that capricious this evening.

Much as it shames me to admit it, I'm also contemplating asking Mr. Sakura for assistance -- because I am not by nature nocturnal, and Mr. Sakura's schedule as a bartender requires him to be awake and alert throughout most of the hours that most servants are sleeping. And I find myself in unspeakable terror of what might go wrong if I leave this building completely unchaperoned for enough hours to sleep, considering the amount of chaos that's begun to ferment while I've been awake -- and even present for much of it.

"There's a phone in the parlor next door," I tell Mr. Martin. "If we might retire there for a few minutes, I have some additional arrangements which could benefit from the assistance of modern technology..." I hold the door for him and bow slightly; his brows quirk, and I realize it is somewhat peculiar for one servant to bow to another. But at the moment, I see him more as a guest and a potential bringer of possible badly-needed aid than as merely a fellow servant.

He waits with barely-restrained tension through my brief call to Mr. Sakura, who is remarkably un-surprised by my request, and indeed remarks that I've been a dolt not to have asked the minute I delivered their envelopes.

I mention aloud to Mr. Sakura that I hesitate to impose any of my own duties upon others without their agreement and invitation, particularly when said duties are unpleasant and possibly dangerous.

I don't mention aloud to Mr. Sakura that I occasionally find him ...discomfiting. I work at maintaining my professional composure. He doesn't appear to work at it at all -- he simply is that reserved, except for the spectacular and furniture-and-architecture-destroying moments when he is NOT reserved. I haven't witnessed this myself, but Miss Merry's friend Rion has regaled the both of us with sagas of what a terrible thing it is to incur Mr. Sakura's wrath. So I fervently hope that I can trust his equanimity to hold through his dealings with the house's inhabitants in my absence.

Something about the tense nature of Mr. Martin's waiting indicates to me that although he is too much the perfect servant to say so aloud, he finds something about this entire situation close to intolerable. I hope that I can learn what it is without offending a potential comrade-in-arms in the process. And I find it entirely reasonable that he might resent the impact of Yuki-sensei's decisions on his ability to serve his young Master Julian, considering how many of the same thoughts have crossed my own mind in the past few hours.

When the call is finished, I turn to Mr. Martin and say, "I am quite sincere in my intentions not to involve anyone who does not wish to be involved in the managing of this... fiasco. I can only suppose that Yuki-sensei has sent you either with an offer of assistance or with various warnings, and I pray that she would have transmitted the warnings directly -- but in either case, I would like to ask that you should not feel bound by Yuki-sensei's wishes in this matter, but should instead follow your own heart and your own duties to your Master Julian. --And if I have guessed entirely incorrectly on both counts, I will be dreadfully embarrassed. In any case... what is your message, and what is it that you would like to discuss?"

[To hear Sakura's thoughts on the phone call: sakuracrisis.proboards22.com/index.cgi?board=yukiverse&action=display&thread=1065434677&start=2]

[PseudoCrystallyne]

[Character POV: Martin]

"There's a phone in the parlor next door. If we might retire there for a few minutes, I have some additional arrangements which could benefit from the assistance of modern technology..." Riff opens the door for me and bows slightly as he speaks, and I realize with an odd sense of irony that I had actually been expecting him to do so. Once again, I firmly remind myself of my station in Riff's eyes.

He leads me to the parlor and makes a quick phone call to Mr. Sakura, the bartender from the top floor who serves drinks at the weekly lounge meetings. I don't know him very well, as he seems very standoff-ish and I've never had the inclination to learn more about him. I settle myself more comfortably onto a soft couch, but the memory of Luccia slapping that, that, that ruffian still lingers behind my eyes, refusing to go away.

I focus on Riff again as he finishes his call and addresses me again.

"I am quite sincere in my intentions not to involve anyone who does not wish to be involved in the managing of this... fiasco. I can only suppose that Yuki-sensei has sent you either with an offer of assistance or with various warnings, and I pray that she would have transmitted the warnings directly -- but in either case, I would like to ask that you should not feel bound by Yuki-sensei's wishes in this matter, but should instead follow your own heart and your own duties to your Master Julian. --And if I have guessed entirely incorrectly on both counts, I will be dreadfully embarrassed. In any case... what is your message, and what is it that you would like to discuss?"

Hmmm, interesting. So he is willing to incure Yuki-san's wrath by disobeying her orders? What else might he be willing to do? I make a mental note of this and file it away. Information can be used both ways, and Yuki-san did ask me to report to her. But Riff doesn't need that particular piece of news right now.

I realize that Riff is staring at me expectantly, waiting for the news. I wave him towards a chair nearby, not wanting him to collapse. He looks very tense now, apparently waiting for the bad news he's positive I have.

"Mr. Riff, please sit down. We are both equals here." Which is far from true, yet lying has become second nature to me and I no longer have to think about which lines to say.

"Mr. Riff, I have always admired your service to your lord, and although I don't know you very well, I feel confident in saying that we've become acquaintances from meeting in the lounge. So hopefully you won't find this news too much of a burden."

I pull out the envelope from my vest pocket and display it to him, noticing how he winces at the sight of the red and black paper.

"Yuki-san has informed me that she will be away on vacation for a year, and that she's left you in charge of running the house. Now, how shall I phrase this? Hmm. It's best to say that she suggested several ways for me to help you in this endeavor."

I notice his look and remember his earlier comment.

"Please don't worry, Mr. Riff. My duty to my master is best served by carrying out her orders. So. Along with Mr. Sakura, apparently, I've also become part of the team. My skills in estate management are not as advanced as yours appear to be, since Master Julian never entertained anyone and rarely kept servants on hand except for myself. I have a different set of skills to offer in service, Mr. Riff. I am a servant, as you know, and servants are usually invisible. Most people don't notice us at all. And I have already established a habit of wandering all over this building at any time of night or day. This as well would not be questioned. So I am the person who gets to gather information on any problems that might arise and go unnoticed by you."

You hear such interesting conversations when you're invisible, the random thought flits across my mind but my expression doesn't change at all. Riff's expression has changed dramatically, though. He no longer has such a frightened "caught" look in his eyes. I can even hear his sigh of relief as he realizes that he has a shadow to back him up now.

Should I reveal my skills with a blade? Again a thought flickers quickly across my brain but I dismiss this one just as quickly. Riff has no need to know about my knife-handling skills. If he ever does find out, it will be in a situation to my advantage, not his.

Riff is talking again, and I've missed some of the words as my mind has wandered. I focus quickly on him again.

"...-aster would surely want you to tend to him as well. Don't think you have to put all your time and effort into this while neglecting him. I wouldn't want to come between you and your duties. But I do thank you for offering to help, and I accept the offer gladly. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

I set the envelope down on the table and lean forward, at last coming to the vital part of the conversation.

"Actually, I do have a question for you. What is going on with my s- master's sister, Miss Luccia, and those, ahem, gentlemen out there? I do report to Master Julian, and he will be absolutely furious unless I can give him some complete facts about the matter."

Hopefully I haven't slipped here. In my agitation, I had almost called Luccia "my sister" in the presence of another. Yet Riff seems not to notice it. Apparently he wasn't expecting that question and it must have caught him off guard. I sit back and wait for his answer, bloodshed still firmly on the agenda.

The tall butler runs a hand down his face, rubbing at the aching point at the bridge of his nose in a gesture that speaks of overlong familiarity with tension-headaches. "I am somewhat afraid that Miss Merry has been ...inspired."

I quirk a brow. "You make this sound dangerous."

"Miss Merry has apparently inherited the family genius for being attracted to unusual situations," he says, looking pained. "This morning, I asked her to deliver some mail to Mr. Kaine's floor. The next thing I knew, she was in the middle of converting the conservatory to a music video sound stage. Apparently she also decided that Miss Luccia could benefit from an introduction to the modern musical scene. I am not entirely certain whether anyone but Miss Merry would consider it a benefit, however. I am not very well acquainted with the current state of musical tastes."

"Perhaps I could be of assistance," I muse aloud. In truth, I am not currently well acquainted with modern musical tastes. Where Luccia is involved, however, I plan to amend this quickly.

The man gives me a look of startlement compounded with inexpressible relief. "Could you, Mr. Martin?" he asks. "If you would be so kind as to chaperone Miss Luccia and Miss Merry this evening, it would put my mind greatly at ease."

"And mine as well," I reply smoothly.

"Mr. Sakura is also planning to attend; he has concerns for the structural integrity of the building's roof if Miss Merry becomes any further inspired, and since he lives directly beneath the roof, I find that concern more than understandable. But I have also discovered that it can be difficult to overestimate how many chaperones may be required to keep Miss Merry away from interesting circumstances..."

"Leave it to me, Mr. Riff."

He seizes my hand and shakes it with fervent gratitude. "I am eternally in your debt, Mr. Martin."

And if you've just given me the opportunity I believe you have, I may be eternally in your debt as well. "Don't mention it, really. Oh, and may I inquire as to how old Miss Merry is? No one knows more than I that looks can be deceiving."

"Eleven, sir," he answers, looking slightly surprised. "Looks can be deceiving, you say?"

With a silent sigh, I reply "Yes, I've run into many people who looked opposite to their true selves."

His face relaxes at that. "I understand. I dare say I've had similar experiences with Master Cain's guests and acquaintances."

"Not that Miss Merry would be otherwise," I assure him. "But Miss Luccia is fifteen now."

"Ah. Then it's kind of her to indulge a child she must see as perhaps something of an impulsive younger sister. Fifteen is a sensitive age..."

I am careful to control my response to that as I nod blandly, picking up Miss Luccia's envelope from the side table and replacing it carefully in my pocket. "I'll be off to chaperone the girls, then."

"Thank you, Mr. Martin," Riff says again, smiling. "It is a comfort to realize that they will both be under the care of someone so capable and meticulous."

"Oh, you're quite welcome, Mr. Riff." Quite, quite welcome indeed.

[Riff goes on into the next post.]
[Martin goes into the conservatory again: sakuracrisis.proboards22.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=yukiverse&thread=1065278287&start=28]

[RisuChan]

[character POV: Riff]

After the discussion with Mr. Martin and seeing Miss Merry and the others safely sent off to Mr. Sakura's supervision for the garden filming, I walk back down the hall toward Master Cain's room.

The door has been left slightly ajar; I take it that this means Master Cain is within, and knock softly.

"Master Cain?"

There's no reply. There's also no sound of motion from within; if he were in a vexed state and wished not to be disturbed, I believe he would either have closed the door or at least shifted in his chair in response to my voice. Most likely, he's fallen asleep with the lamp still lit.

I know we could use electricity; the rooms are certainly wired for it; but lamplight and candlelight is gentler than Edison's cold creations. It's warmer, and kinder, and more comforting. And it needs more personal attention. Since he really shouldn't sleep in a room with the lamp still burning, I quietly slip through the door to extinguish it.

...He's not in his room. With an uneasy sense of foreboding, I look around for any sign of where he might have gone.

The door to the bath is closed, but there's a light within. Completely irrationally, my heart catches in my throat.

Maybe he fell and hit his head. Maybe the water was too hot; these people keep bathwater so hot that people have been known to pass out--

Maybe I should knock before I panic.

I've been run far too close to the edge of my reserves today. It's not like me to automatically assume the worst. But this day has been one unremitting string of disaster upon chaos upon nightmare, and I can't convince the terrified voice screaming in the corner of my soul that there's nothing else in store for the night.

I knock on the door, then press my ear to the wooden panel to listen.

...Nothing. Nothing at all.

Fighting back the terror clawing at my throat, I wrench the door open.

Master Cain is lying in the bath, head fallen back, eyes closed, one hand limp and forgotten over the edge of the bath.

I don't even realize that I'm falling until my knees crack hard against the tiles of the floor and the jolt of pain shocks my soul out of its silent scream.

It's only when I see his chest rise and fall slightly that I realize he isn't dead. The splinters weren't poisoned. He didn't faint from the heat, or deliberately take something to kill himself.

Dear God. My God in heaven...

I can do nothing but kneel on the floor shaking all over. My eyes are burning, and the world is blurred -- tears, I realize. I haven't wept since...

...it's been years.

...I am beyond the end of my strength tonight, I realize. Any other night, I would have smiled to see that he'd been able to relax so totally in the warmth of the bath, and I might have teased him a bit as I helped him dress for bed, to see whether he would laugh or turn away in a huff.

Tonight, I am so utterly incapable of bearing a single additional trauma that every fiber of my soul is expecting the destruction of my world.

I streak a hand across my face, still shaking, and try to blink away enough of the burning tears to be able to take off my suit jacket and unfasten my sleeve cuffs and roll up my sleeves.

I should wake him, and tease him, and smile as he protests, and it should all be as though nothing has happened. But I can't seem to stop crying.

I wasn't there for him. I couldn't be there for him. He sent me away, and I couldn't help, and I can't do this -- God, I can't do this for a year; I couldn't even do it for a day -- and he could have been dead; he could have been -- oh, God...

I'm going through the motions on sheer reflex; I fold my coat and lay it aside, I shove up my sleeves, I take a couple towels from where they are warmed by the radiator and unfold them into my lap, then his bathrobe. My hands are still shaking. I hope it won't disturb him too greatly.

The ends of my sleeves are still soaked through when I reach into the tub to gather him into my arms. I lift him as gently as I can; he makes a small sound, like a sleepy child or a puppy, and snuggles his head into the crook of my arm as I cradle him against my heart.

I wrap the bathrobe around him lightly in order to preserve the warmth of the bath, then tenderly see to drying him. His skin is so fair, translucent as fine porcelain, even with the slight flush from the bath's heat. He is more beautiful than any doll, and warm, and still breathing, and the reality of it is enough to shatter me with relief and gratitude.

I am particularly gentle with tousling his wetly elflocked hair, trying desperately not to disturb his rest, because I still can't tell if I have been able to stop crying.

With another soft sleepy sound, he shifts again, and I hold very still, waiting for him to settle into his dreams once more. But this time his eyelids flicker drowsily, and he blinks sleep-muddled eyes up toward my face.

He makes a sound which, if it had not been warped to incoherence by a great yawn, might have been meant for my name.

"It's all right," I tell him, meaning it with all my heart. "It's all right, Master Cain. Leave this to me."

But he stretches a little, running a thin hand down his face, trying to wake himself up; it pulls at my already-shattered heart. And then he reaches up to touch my cheek.

...Apparently I hadn't stopped crying after all. In the silence of my mind, I curse anything and everything having to do with this day.

"Riff, what is it...?"

"I am a fool, sir," I tell him. "That's all. I am a very great fool. I... I thought... that you had... --that you..."

I can't even finish the sentence. I can't breathe to finish the sentence. I clutch him close, clinging to his too-slight, fragile body, and bury my face in his wet hair, and surrender to the sobs I can't control.

For a long moment, the only sound I can hear is my own humiliating, wretched gasps for breath. When I've somehow managed to scrape together enough of a semblance of control to loosen my desperate embrace, I realize from the shift of his arm that he's been stroking my hair the entire time.

"You are a fool," he agrees softly. "You've had a day fresh from the pits of hell, came to check on me, and assumed the universe's final bit of vicious mockery is that I've been so careless as to drown myself in my own bath?"

I have no pride left. I nod, still shaking all over. "Or the splinters were p-poisoned... or... God..."

"You can't do this," Master Cain says, in a voice with a disturbing note of finality. "You can't keep doing this. You'll drive yourself mad."

Somehow, I manage a cracked sound that might pass for a laugh. "I believe I may already have done so, Master Cain. ...This is inexcusable of me. I cannot apologize deeply enough for my behavior today, my behavior this evening -- I cannot possibly make amends for this... I can only beg your forgiveness and your indulgence of the strain this day has been..."

"I don't think so." Master Cain's hand lingers gently against my now-damp hair; I've dried him as much with myself as with the towels. But his eyes hold a finality of decision that I've learned to dread. "Riff, there's something we have to discuss about this entire ludicrous situation."

[Alter]

[Alter note: fufufu, Jealousy takes over once again, this post was result from Jez-Cain "brotherly talk", if you know what I mean *grin*, the link is
sakuracrisis.proboards22.com/index.cgi?board=yukiverse&action=display&thread=1064964629&start=29 ]

[Character POV: Jezebel]

I nearly slammed the door in anger.

Well, meeting with Cain is splendid indeed. He still has his poisons while Miss Yuki choose to relieved me from all my scalpels. So, basically Cain has be given a chance to poison us all while we're totally stripped, not to mention that he has the 'House Manager' on his side while Delilah's basically defenseless and unaware. Cain and all his privileges. Figures.

Wait,that doesn't figure at all. Living in this building for quite a while makes me sure that it's very unlikely of Miss Yuki to give someone privilege over another. No, to crushed them all were more to her liking.

I propped up my chin. Just what's going on here? Judging the situation I would think that we should have an equal footing. But, Cain has his poisons.....

What if those weren't poison? Maybe Cain was just bluffing? No, I don't think so, he had those gleam of satisfaction on his eyes.... What if he founds the secret place where Miss Yuki would confine our lethal objects? It seems unlikely, but, then again, who'll knows?

Cain came from the direction of the kitchen....

Well, it seems the kitchen needs a quick inspection....maybe this afternoon...I need to cool my head off right now, and The roof shouldnt' be occupied at this time.

Ah yes, I wonder if Miss, no, Madame Sara is on the roof. She's keep correcting me when I called her as a 'Miss Sara'. Then again, I never used to a thinking that a girl of her age had already married. But, of course after the pregnancy starts showing, it would be rude if I called her anything but 'Madame' however young she is (Madame Sara herself still insisted on being addressed as Sara-"chan", though I find it's rather awkward to speak).

I had surprised the first time I met here there. I had under impression that all the living being on this building is, well, a psychopath. To see a rather naive and (very) trusting little girl is something that I never expected. Mostly, because she's still survived up till now. The fact alone makes me cancelled the thought to used her to baited Cain....Who knows, maybe she has some special power? or have a secret organization behind her back?

I pondered that thought slightly. Hmmm, it wouldn't hurt to know what she actually is...maybe I could use her help sometimes. Oh right, She'd mentioned something about tea party with her friends on the fifth floor. Well, now that I practically unarmed and Cain might be lurking around (with his poisons), I'll better taking a visit to another floor. Besides I really want to know whether Miss Yuki really giving advantages to certain people.

[Alter note: well, imagine Jez with an old British accent trying to say Sara-'chan' ^^ To see Jez and the tea party, please follow this link]
sakuracrisis.proboards22.com/index.cgi?board=yukiverse&action=display&thread=1065277633&start=5 [Risu-ed: the previous link went into the Plot Hooks post instead of the tea party, quick fix... ^_^]

[Carole]

[Character POV: Cain]

One moment I’m lying in the tub the next…

“-rother!”

I open my eyes. That’s strange. My feet are cold. I look down and see that my trousers have been rolled up and that my feet are dangling into a small river. Looking up I see the enormous branches of one of the largest oak trees I’ve ever laid eyes on. In fact, I’m sitting on one of the branches that had grown out and are hanging over the river.

“Big Brother!!”

I look down and see Merryweather sitting with Riff on one of the tree’s roots that had pushed itself up out of the ground near the riverbank. She has a smile on her face and a fishing rod in hand.

“Daydreaming again, Brother? Ahh! Riff you let the fish eat the bait off your hook again!! We came to catch the fish, not feed them!”

“Sorry, Miss Merryweather…fishing isn’t exactly something I learned while studying medicine…”

Riff smiles sheepishly, as he pulls the hook out of the water. He’s dressed much like me, except he has a rather beaten straw hat on.

Merry laughs and says, “It’s a good thing we don’t have to depend on you to actually catch our dinners. Otherwise we’d starve!” She looks up at me happily. “Come on, Big Brother, stop making us do all the work.”

I smile and say, “You haven’t even cast your line once since we got here.”

She makes a face at me, “Fine then, Big Brother…so stop making Riff do all the work!”

Somethings waking me up from the dream, but I try to ignore it. My fingers twitch and instead of feeling the water, I feel fabric.

I open my eyes, thinking that I had somehow made it to bed and that I would see the ceiling of my room. Through sleep filled eyes I see someone else instead. It’s Riff.

I say his name, but it’s mixed with a loud yawn. I hadn’t realized I was capable of falling asleep in my own bath.

"It's all right. It's all right, Master Cain. Leave this to me."

What’s all right? What is he talking about?

I rub my eyes, trying to force myself to wake up so I can figure out what it is he’s referring to. I look at him, and don’t believe what I’m seeing. I reach my hand up and…

Wet. He’s…he’s crying! What happened?!

Panic starts to rise. What is it that’s cause this?

"Riff, what is it...?"

"I am a fool, sir. That's all. I am a very great fool. I... I thought... that you had... --that you..."

…

If he wasn’t so upset I would have started laughing.

He clings to me, crying. It surprised me that Riff of all people would be doing such a thing. Moreover, I’m usually not the person offering such support. I shift my arm to stroke his hair, and let him finish. He tries to pull himself together and looses his desperate hold on me.

"You are a fool,” I say. “You've had a day fresh from the pits of hell, came to check on me, and assumed the universe's final bit of vicious mockery is that I've been so careless as to drown myself in my own bath?"

Still shaking, he simply nods his head.

"Or the splinters were p-poisoned... or... God..."

This is just one day with Yuki-san gone. How many days are left, and Riff is already in such a state?

“Fine then, Big Brother…so stop making Riff do all the work!”

The dream, because that’s all it was, comes back to me. I’ve made my decision.

"You can't do this. You can't keep doing this. You'll drive yourself mad."

Riff tries to laugh.

“I believe I may already have done so, Master Cain. ...This is inexcusable of me. I cannot apologize deeply enough for my behavior today, my behavior this evening -- I cannot possibly make amends for this... I can only beg your forgiveness and your indulgence of the strain this day has been..."

He’s apologizing?! Gods, Riff, when are you going to learn.

As much as I dread my decision, it’s something that has to be done. When Yuki-san returns I fully intend to chew her out for causing such problems for everyone, especially for Riff.

"I don't think so. Riff, there's something we have to discuss about this entire ludicrous situation."

His tears have slowed and he’s managed to get control over himself again. He waits for me to continue.

“I am the fool. I should have realized sooner that no one could possibly keep control of this place and still be around to see to my trivial needs. As long as you have to worry about me, I’ll just be a distraction from the more important jobs that need to get done. Which is why…”

For a moment I’m not sure I can say it. For the sake of Riff, though, I force myself to.

“Which is why I’m releasing you from my service, until the time that Yuki-san does return. There are other servants that can see to Merryweather and the floor’s needs, and I can manage by myself.”

I put on a fake half-smile. Such lies I’m speaking, but Riff will surely be happy about not having to juggle so many things at once and not having to see to the needs of his lord.

Without realizing it, I voice what I’m thinking, “I hadn’t realized how much of a bother I was until now.”

[RisuChan]

[character POV: Riff]

At first, I can't even make sense of the words. It's a wash of noise that's completely unintelligible.

“Which is why I’m releasing you from my service, until the time that Yuki-san does return. There are other servants that can see to Merryweather and the floor’s needs, and I can manage by myself.”

'Releasing me from his service?' What is that supposed to mean...?

'He can manage by himself?' But my purpose in being here, my purpose in living, is to see to it that he will not have to try to manage by myself -- to see to it that he never needs to suffer that silent agonizing loneliness again--

He's smiling. And there's something horribly wrong with that smile.

“I hadn’t realized how much of a bother I was until now.”

The shock of that finally snaps my mind out of its paralysis.

"No!"

Even I'm taken aback by my vehemence. Master Cain blinks up at me, a bit startled.

All but incoherent, I stammer through it somehow. "You're not a bother, Master Cain. You've never been a bother. You're..." You're my life. You are my purpose in living. I am your servant. I live to serve you. You can't take that from me. You CAN'T... "you can't... you can't ever be a bother to me..."

He turns his face away from me.

I'm a fool. I know it. But I'm growing more desperate. I can feel his resistance in the tension of his body, in the unaccustomed stiffness of his slender shoulders, and so far nothing I've said has even touched that resistance in him.

"You are my lord, my liege, and my purpose in life," I whisper, hoping that my voice isn't going to break embarrassingly in the middle of this. He needs me to keep better control than this. He needs me to be able to keep control-- "And you could never be a bother. The bother is this ludicrous world tour of Yuki-sensei's; I cannot civilly express my frustration at the way her presumption has affected the rectitude of my service to you--"

He's nodding. That should have been a good sign. But I can feel that it's not.

Master Cain puts his feet down and pulls himself upright, away from my support, away from my outstretched hands; he moves to lean his back against the wall, hugging his shoulders as though he feels the sting of that rejection as sharply as I do.

"She expects more from you than she has any right to expect," he says, dark-voiced. "She expects more from you than any one man could bear. But I can see why she did so. There's no one else in this building whom I could endure to see as the overseer in her absence. Among the servants and the stewards, that tall blonde who reminds everyone of you -- he belongs heart and soul to a monomaniacal tyrant. That perverse prince's manservant is far too easily bullied by anyone with a forceful personality. The bartender on the top floor, those host club men..." Master Cain pauses, and shudders. "I don't care what anyone says. They're polite and smiling and they're all lethally dangerous. All of them. I've barely met them and I know that much. There's no one else she could have left in charge. It doesn't mean I have to like it. I just... understand it."

"But my duties to you come first--"

"No," he says, sharply. "Not now. Not anymore. I told you. You are relieved of your duties."

It hurts worse the second time. The first time, I could pretend he wasn't truly sure of what he was saying.

"Master Cain--" My voice does break. I cough, and try again. "M-..."

"She expects more of you than she has any right to," he says, oddly, still refusing to meet my eyes. "But so have I. Too much, too often, for too long."

"Master Cain, no--"

"How dare you contradict me?" he flares right back. "Shut your mouth and listen! Don't you dare presume I want to do this. Don't ever presume that. I have to. There's nothing else I can do for you."

FOR me--?!

"I can't help you in this," he says, staring fixedly at the ground. "If anything, my solutions to the problems you face would involve selective additions to certain entire floors' water supply, and sealing the entire level until the day before the woman gets back. It would simplify things, though I suppose the ventilation would need some drastic improvement, or else we'd need to empty the meat locker in the basement to have more suitable relocations for the remains through the duration--" He stops and shakes his head sharply. "And I will, if you ask it of me. But you would never ask. I know you too well. I can't take any of this burden from you. So the only thing I can do is to relieve you of the burden of myself."

"But you're not a burden," I whisper, shivering. "Master Cain, you are my joy in life, my joy in service--"

"I'm one more thing for you to try to manage on top of all the rest of it," he replies, rather stiffly. "And you'll drive yourself mad trying not to disappoint me along with all the rest of this. We both know each other too well. How much more plain can I make this? I can't help you. I can only make your life more difficult. I won't. I've already seen how close to the edge this one day has driven you."

That hits as hard as a slap would have. ...No. Harder. Gasping, I somehow manage to say, "Master Cain, I know my loss of self-control is an excruciating and shameful display -- I'm just exhausted today; I'm sorry, I'm sure I'll have myself under control again in the morning--"

"At which point you'll have a freshly gathered accumulation of the night's disasters to deal with," Master Cain replies, eyes closed. "Go. Do what you must. Keep this place running. You have no further obligations to me until that overarching burden has been lifted from you again."

"But--"

I've pushed him too far this time. His voice sharpens to the verge of hysteria.

"You are dismissed, Mr. Raffit. Get out of my room. In the state you're in, you're no use to yourself, to me, or to anyone else!"

In my complete shock, I can't even move.

His voice rises again, shrill and brittle. "I said get out!"

Somehow, I manage to get my feet under myself. "I'm sorry, Master Cain," I whisper, around a knot in my throat so tight I can barely breathe. "I'm so sorry. You're right. I... I've been... worse than useless tonight. Contradicting you, resisting your orders, grieving you with my own incompetence-- This is... shameful, and... I'm not in a fit state to serve. I'm sorry. I'll..." I can't say I'll leave you alone. I just can't. "I'll just... go..."

My feet know their way to his door in pitch darkness. I've walked this path a thousand times after extinguishing his lamp and seeing him safely into bed. But every other time I have walked this path, I walked it as Master Cain's servant, and, I flattered myself to think, perhaps something more than a servant. Perhaps a friend. Perhaps family.

Right now, I am nothing. Nothing at all.

I never imagined how much Yuki-sensei could possibly take from me. She took Master Cain's poisons; she took Dr. Disraeli's implements of torture; I had been fool enough to think that my newly-imposed position would have been enough. But that was something gained, not something lost.

Tonight, I've lost everything.

[RisuChan]

[1 of 2 - it told me the message was too long. ^^;;]

[previous post in this sequence: sakuracrisis.proboards22.com/index.cgi?board=yukiverse&action=display&thread=1065434677&start=2]

[character POV: Sakura]

Walking down the overdecorated hallway of the Hargreaves wing of the first floor, I wonder which room is the conservatory. Apparently the little banshee I am due to tame is making her plots there. It's better to nip that behavior in the bud rather than wait for her to arrive on the rooftop with something on the scale of a mechanical kaijyuu monster already scheduled to tear holes in the ceiling. She might not care, since it's not her ceiling. I care quite a great deal.

There's someone else in the hallway too. Around a corner; I can't see him yet. From here, all I smell is live and human and male.

Hot blood, warm flesh; bath scents; a man's cologne. Damp linen and wool...

...salt. Tears...

and...

...it's Riff...?

I stop short of the corner, stilling myself so that I can listen more carefully -- stilling even the semblance of a heartbeat I usually try to maintain.

He's breathing, if you can call it that -- great wracking near-silent sobs that no one else would hear; even I only hear the ragged shadow of them in the shifting of the fabric of his clothing.

Fascinating. I hadn't known he was capable of a nervous breakdown. Fascinating, and troublesome at the same time. Because this is only the first day of a year without the capricious would-be goddess who had ruled us all, and she left the reins of control in the hands of the man who's currently falling apart in the middle of the hallway.

In the silence of my mind, I sigh a little. I'm a bartender. Over the years, I've had to learn a fair amount of human psychology in order to become a good bartender.

People who drink in order to get drunk do so in order to blot out pain of the soul, not pain of the body. Any good bartender has to be an equally good psychiatrist.

If I'd fully realized that at the time I entered my chosen profession, I might have taken a different path. I am an aesthete and a conoisseur, and humans are messy and drippy and sniveling and most inelegant -- particularly when drunk out of their minds.

So I've learned an occasionally savagely straightforward brand of applied psychology, to attempt to cut off the worst of the sniveling before it takes place in front of me. I dislike messy emotional displays. Champagne is much more clean and elegant and civilized.

There's got to be an alcohol cabinet somewhere in this wing. No self-respecting British nobleman's house would be without a decanter of some sort of strong spirits... I close my eyes and try to sift through the scents of the place.

old, long-polished wood; the faint accumulated dust of antique tapestries, and carpeting; a tang of silver, somewhere, and the various houseferns, and the dampness of the soil in them... wicker, the baskets... cedar, the lining of the linen closet... but what I seek is something that smells of a sitting-room, a sideboard, perhaps some crumbs of forgotten cheese on the linens, the faded-ash-and-smoke of an extinguished fireplace, the clean almost-absence of sun-warmed air in a room with windows where the curtains are left open...

there; that way.

It doesn't take me long to trick the antique lock of their liquor cabinet. There are some impressive items here. Apparently the Count is actually a man of some measure of taste and civilization, as opposed to merely a haughty highborn snob. Not that he cannot also be a haughty highborn snob; it's just pleasant to discover evidence of a blueblood who also possesses some lingering sense of noblesse.

I am not searching for something elegant this evening, however. I am searching for something medicinal. I doubt he'll even taste it, and I would hate to waste a fine vintage on someone drinking for sedative rather than appreciative purposes.

It takes me a few minutes to select something I consider both good enough for my personal standards of drinkability and not so fine as to be wasted by this purpose. But finally, with a bottle of Glenlivet in one hand and a glass in the other, I walk back to the hallway and continue around the corner where I'd hesitated before.

As far as I can tell, he hasn't moved at all. He's slumped on the floor at the edge of a doorway he must just have closed, curled up hugging his knees to his chest, head bowed against his knees, motionless, and virtually silent to any mortal ears; but mine are no longer mortal.

I don't know if he has heard my footsteps or not. I am occasionally quieter than I ought to be, when I don't pay attention to making ordinary sounds like footsteps.

He doesn't move, even when I am careful to step on the hardwood floor rather than the carpet. I can't begin to guess what he's thinking, which surprises me. I would have thought he would take greater care not to be seen like this, not to be seen as a disgrace to his master's required decorum.

In other words, Glenlivet alone isn't going to fix this one. But it's not a terrible place to start, with someone so repressed.

I sit down beside him, open the bottle, and let the rim clink against the glass as I pour the Scotch for him.

The back of his head shifts a little; he might have turned his head enough to catch a glimpse of my hands. Perhaps my hair. Probably my hair, because he recognizes me; his voice is a cracked and ruined husk of what it was earlier today.

"Mr. Sakura..."

I touch the cool rim of the glass to the back of his hand and wait.

He makes an aching effort to unfold himself, scrubbing the back of his sleeve across red-rimmed eyes, and takes the glass, and looks into it, and takes a swallow.

He's better at it than I expected. He doesn't actually burst out coughing and gasping for air at the bite. There's briefly something agonized behind his eyes that has less to do with soul-angst than with the sensation of liquid fire being poured over every inch of exposed flesh in his throat and stomach; a minute later, he takes a breath that could almost pass for normal, and puts the glass down very, very carefully.

Good. Both points accomplished. Enough of a sting in the alcohol to shock him out of his head for a moment, and there's enough left in that head to recognize that drowning himself in Glenlivet won't make the problems go away.

I don't ask out loud. If he wants to tell me, he will. If he doesn't, I'll leave him a full glass of the Glenlivet and go away. No more than that, though. I don't want him to actually try to kill himself with it.

"He threw me out," Riff whispers, staring down at the gold in the bottom of the ice-clear glass.

That does surprise me. "Has he lost his mind?"

"No. I have." Riff chokes on a laugh, and digs the heel of his hand into his eyes. "He told me I'm no use to anyone in this state. Least of all him. And he's right. I can't do this. I can't. When I can't even serve my own master properly, how can I possibly live like this for a year? How can I be anything if I am no longer his...?"

All right. Alcohol sterilization complete; now it's time for the scalpel of Dr. Sakura's Applied Surgical Psychology.

[RisuChan]

All right. Alcohol sterilization complete; now it's time for the scalpel of Dr. Sakura's Applied Surgical Psychology.

"Grow up."

Riff blinks at me, startled beyond pain into a faint flicker of anger. "Excuse me?"

"You've always been the adult in the situation. He expects that from you. So be the adult. Grow up. Deal with this. And for the love of God, learn to delegate!"

His jaw is hanging slightly open. Before he can decide whether or not he needs to punch me in the face, I press the point home.

"You're both right. You can't do this alone. Nobody can. And you can't serve him while you're trying that damned hard to do it alone. You got caught completely off guard, kicked around like that sadist woman's personal football, spent the entire day getting slammed around from one crisis to the next, pulled yourself back into duck-and-cover emergency-of-the-moment mode, and then you got kicked again when you thought it was finally safe to relax. So it sucks. So stop, back up, and figure out how to deal with it. You probably haven't stopped running around in full-fledged fire-extinguisher-of-the-moment's-crisis gear since opening that envelope, have you."

He's breathing again, which means I think he's not likely to punch me. Good. I hadn't wanted to have to sprain his wrist or his shoulder for him when he tried it.

"You're better than this. I know you are. You just haven't stopped reacting long enough to start thinking again. Think about this. Tell me what you need. I'll keep this place running for you tonight. I'll expect a list of orders in the morning. Contacts. Who's to be trusted. Who's not to be trusted. Who's to be used with caution. Who else you've recruited for your management team. And since you're not a complete idiot, you are going to recruit more of us for your management team. You're accustomed to running your own staff. Just regroup, reorganize, and expand on it."

His face falls a little. "I'm accustomed to running my own staff," he tells me. "I know what is to be done here. I know what is needed, how things work, whose skills are best suited to which tasks..."

"Every damned bit of which is perfectly applicable to the larger-scale organization."

"But I don't know any of the things I need to know!"

"And this surprises you why...? That woman loves watching us writhe in misery. She's even got the bloody Prince of Darkness dancing to her tune. So don't let the bitch win."

That strikes a resonant chord in him. "...But... how...?"

I give him a half-lidded look. "I'm done babysitting you. You tell me what you're going to do about this."

That stings his pride enough to settle him a little. "I don't know what I need to know. I don't know who knows it. I don't know which of them are safe to talk to, let alone safe to believe. So I need to find out. I need people I can trust... or people whose limitations of trust I can understand... --I need you..."

I pick up the glass and hand it back to him, which is as close as I will ever come to a smile and pat on the back. I don't indulge anyone.

...Not even if I suspect this poor bastard has spent so much of his life pouring all his energy into someone else's problems that he has almost completely lost any capacity to deal with his own.

...Not even if I suspect that the reason he's so fixated on supporting his teenaged earl is that he's more than half in love with the only human soul who's needed him, because fulfilling someone else's need is the only substitute he's ever had for someone fulfilling his own needs. Because he's never had the luxury of even admitting he has needs, let alone seeking out a fulfillment of them in any way other than pouring himself into the void in someone else's life and hoping to leave the emptiness behind when he's hollowed himself out to the point where he's completely given himself away.

I hate being a psychologist. Humans are so unbelievably messy.

He sips at the Glenlivet much more prudently this time, and in his eyes I can see the reflection of actual serious thought, as opposed to the blind shellshocked trauma he'd been huddling in earlier.

Being a psychologist against my will, I stick another finger in another untended wound to see how badly he flinches.

"So what are you going to do about the fact that he's thrown you out?"

The wave of renewed pain ripples through him like a rock heaved into a silent pond. But in the aftermath of it, he meets my eyes squarely.

"I believe I'm not the only person who's forgotten things today," he says; his voice is still hoarse and ragged, but beneath it he's closer to calm. "One of a steward's duties is to serve to remind his lord of things which have been neglected."

"Going to pound the door down tonight, then?"

"No. I'm sure he'll want to rest as much as I do. Tonight, I'll decide what I can do, and what I'm going to do. Tomorrow I'll leave him a message. He rarely takes it well when someone defies him while he's tired and hurt and angry. I can pick my time to stand my ground." He flashes me something that resembles a crookedly wry smile. "So that I can stand my ground firmly enough to show him that I'm no longer useless to us both. --Thank you, Mr. Sakura."

I nod, brusquely, and stand. "Go to sleep. I'll keep the little minx on a leash for you tonight."

He nods, and unfolds himself carefully, leaning on the wall a bit to steady himself between the stiffness of tense muscles and, probably, some of the aftereffects of the glass of Glenlivet.

Good. One flaming meltdown averted for a while. Let's see if he can keep it together this time. And if that scrawny little spoiled brat of an earl with the excellent taste in alcohol doesn't take him back and let him put the main prop of his life back in place, I'm sure I can arrange to scare some sense into him.

Earl of Poison, fine, whatever. I've always thought arsenic lent a rather unique twist to a drink anyway. Reminds me of marzipan on a cake. I wonder what else he might be tempted to try...

[Sakura's next stop: sakuracrisis.proboards22.com/index.cgi?board=yukiverse&action=display&thread=1065278287&start=34]

[Carole]

[Character POV: Cain]

This…this is something I’d never thought I was capable of doing.

Ten minutes has already passed and I’m still rooted to the same spot. The sound of his footsteps and the shutting of the door keep playing in my mind. I couldn’t even look at him as he left.

Finally, I push myself off the wall and turn off the bathroom light. Walking back into my room I turn that light off as well.

I stand in the middle of my room, the only light coming from windows whose curtains have yet to be drawn. I can’t think of anything except the shutting of the door, feeling as if I’m a prisoner whose cell door has just been closed and bolted. Knowing that I won’t be able to get out until the door is opened from the outside. That door will stay bolted until Yuki returns.

Yuki….

My hands clench into fists and I summon up every curse I know to put on that woman’s name.

In a blind fury I grab for anything that can stop the sounds of Riff’s departure in my ears and I hurl it against the bookcase. Any noise is better.

Whatever it was, it was glass and it shatters as it impacts the bookcase. The broken shards chink to the ground.

My anger lessens and I unclench my hands, though they've started shaking.

Leaving the glass on the floor I make my way towards my bed, praying for this sleep to be dreamless.

[RisuChan]

[Continuing from Martin's arrival in the music video: sakuracrisis.proboards22.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=yukiverse&thread=1065278287&start=15]

[Character POV: Merry]

The instant the two chaperones are out of the room, I grab Luccia's arm and drag her out too.

Die stares at me. Kaine is still rubbing his cheek and grinning at Luccia.

"Where do you think you're--"

"Powder room!" I reply, waving my handbag at him. "Gotta check the makeup! Back in a sec--"

Luccia is pretty shaken up from whatever that was with Kaine and Martin that meant I had to get out of the room; I hadn't given Riff any chance to protest at all as I hauled him back, but I still had the feeling I'd missed something major.

"Okay, so talk to me!" I say, putting on my best imitation of my tutors when they're cross-examining me for a test. "What was that? You slapped Kaine? What have you got against flowers? And, most importantly, why didn't you TELL me your brother's servant was so hot?"

Luccia stares at me as though I've just lost my mind. "'Hot'...?"

"He's almost as cute as Kaine is!" Or maybe more. But loyalty to my first crush won't let me say that aloud. "And he's around all the time and you haven't done anything about it?"

This time she looks like she's on the verge of wild hysterics. "Done anything about what? --With Martin?"

"Yeah!"

"Would you 'do anything about' Riff?"

"What's to do about him? He's just Riff," I reply, baffled. "I couldn't even ask him to take me to a dance unless I put on stilts or something! Not that I would, either. He's just too... well.. Riff. But that total babe you've got working for you..."

Something about this conversation is seriously weirding Luccia out. I plant both hands on my hips and practice my best I'm-waiting glare. "So talk!"

[Crystallyne]

[Character POV: Luccia]

It never ends. Just as soon as I had gotten Martin at least out of stabbing range of Kaine, Merry grabs me and starts pulling me out of the room, too.

Apparently Die is still slightly startled, because he starts to object. Kaine, of course, is just grinning his fool head off, and I really do have to wonder how many times he's been hit by women before. "Where do you think you're--"

"Powder room!" Merry sings out, holding up her miniscule excuse for a handbag. "Gotta check the makeup! Back in a sec--"

I'm still reacting inside, so I don't resist as Merry practically shoves me into the luxurious example of decadence posing as a "powder room". Will I ever really get used to luxury? It's an odd thought to have at the moment. Merry interupts my little woolgathering anyway.

"Okay, so talk to me!" I almost smile as I hear her tone. She sounds like she actually has authority over me, and if I'm not careful, I might respond in the same manner, just from habit. "What was that? You slapped Kaine? What have you got against flowers? And, most importantly, why didn't you TELL me your brother's servant was so hot?"

Okay, how to answer her...Wait a minute. I can actually feel my brain grind to a halt. "Hot'...?" Is she insane?! Martin, hot?!

"He's almost as cute as Kaine is!" I hear Merry's words through a kind of fog. And even then, her sincerity shines through. "And he's around all the time and you haven't done anything about it?"

My god, she's actually serious.

I barely manage to control my urge to break out into hysterical laughter. The thought of me, "doing anything" with my own brother, is almost as alien as the modern technology spread about in the parlor. I try to gather my thoughts to reply.

"Done anything about what? --With Martin?"

Somehow I still haven't managed to wrap my mind around that one, yet. It just boggles my mind.

"Yeah!"

How do I answer that without giving away the secret? I can't reveal Martin's real identity to Merry, no matter how much I like her. Loyalty to my brother comes first. I love him, I truly do, even knowing his faults and his disregard for most human life. I need some way to convey those feelings of 'sisterly love' without coming right out and stating that I'm Martin's sister.

Ah hah! An example right in front of me, too! I grab onto the perfect comparison to show her my feelings.

"Would you 'do anything about' Riff?"

"What's to do about him? He's just Riff," Merry answers, and I can hear some of my own puzzlement entering her voice, even though she hasn't made the connection yet. "I couldn't even ask him to take me to a dance unless I put on stilts or something! Not that I would, either. He's just too... well.. Riff. But that total babe you've got working for you..."

Apparently Merry isn't going to patiently give me time to accept such an odd idea so that I can talk normally. She levels a glare at me, planting both hands on her hips and imperiously commanding me: "So talk!"

For one moment, I almost caved in at her tone. But then the thought of how much Martin would be disappointed in me for not handling a simple matter like this one bulstered my confidence.

Okay, time to play 'Grown-up-big-sister-indulging-little-sister' role here.

"Merry, Merry, Merry. I'm not surprised you don't understand." I can already tell that my tone is majorly annoying her. Good. I need to get her worked up over something else so that I can hopefully get her away from this one topic.

"You see, Martin has been my companion and friend for quite some time, now, as well as being my servant. I care deeply for him, but I just can't look at him and see him like that." I actually pat her on the head, and I can almost see the steam coming out of her ears as her eyes narrow.

"Now, if you want to try and go after him, by all means, do." I put an affectionate, indulging type smile on my face as I continue, not letting Merry get a word in edgewise. I know I'm about to hear all about it anyway.

"Oh, and about Kaine, you probably don't understand that one either, seeing as how you drool practically every time he comes around, but he did insult me, and I wasn't going to stand for it. If I'm going to be in this music video, I want him to treat me with at least a measure of respect due to me from my position as a lady. It's what M- my brother would want me to do, and I always try to fulfill his wishes for me."

Whew, caught myself before letting Martin's name slip. Now to add the final distraction, to at least make Merry's agile young mind do a little bit of jumping around.

"And I absolutely love flowers. I wish it was Cain giving them to me." Put in a wistful little sigh, to bring up the image of my fainting again in her mind, and watch the memory click into place. She's a matchmaker, I can tell. She should snatch hold of that one too...

I sit down on a sinfully comfortable cushion, snuggling in to ease the tension in my spine.

I'm not really up to acting like this right now. If I can just hold out a little longer.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of the slightly open door of the powder room and notice that Martin is entering the parlor from the hallway.

Maybe he'll be happy that I'm not alone with them right now. On the other hand, I keep an ear cocked for the sound of rising tempers. Who knows what Kaine'll say to him?

I focus on Merry again as she starts to speak...

[RisuChan]

[character POV: Merry]

...SHE PATTED ME ON THE HEAD! Just because some people are A LITTLE BIT taller and more grown-up and stuff doesn't mean they get to PAT ME ON THE HEAD! That... that... oooooooh!

All right, that does it, I'm going to think of something REALLY 'special' to drag her into next time... people who go around fainting over Big Brother have got NO room to pat other people on the head just for being a little short or something!

By the time I'm done fuming, I realize the conversation's gone on without me, and scramble to catch up.

"And I absolutely love flowers. I wish it was Cain giving them to me."

Oh, now THIS I can work with. This I can definitely work with. Big Brother flirts with anything in a skirt. Flowers can't be too hard to arrange. I don't know when her birthday is but Big Brother doesn't have to know I don't actually know that. I am soooooo going to love watching her face...

Martin stalks by the door and heads back inside. He is definitely high up there on the cuteness scale. He looks like Big Brother when he goes all protective like that.

Except I don't actually want to have to watch Martin and Kaine getting into a fistfight over Luccia, 'cause I haven't decided which of them I'd rather go comfort and console over a bloodied lip or anything, and it just doesn't logistically work out to try to fuss at both of them at once.

"Maybe we should go keep an eye on them," I say. "I mean, it'd be good for all the furniture to still be intact and no major windows broken when we get done, or Big Brother is really going to let me hear about it."

Die's voice isn't entirely audible from this distance, but the stressed and slightly frantic note of 'desperately attempting to keep the peace, with a stick if necessary' is clear enough.

"Yes, I think that does sound advisable," Luccia agrees with a sigh.