Ode to Joy-10.3: Izzy

10. Teatime Travesty

ii. Izzy

“WHERE IS THE BEAUTIOUS QUEEN OF DENMARK!”

The voice woke the earl from his sleep.

The first horror that struck him was the thought of his mother ranting and raving.

He saw that the sun was quite down and lit a lamp to navigate the halls. That voice had come from downstairs.

“Mother!” he called out.

The royal red of the hallway revealed itself as his lamp light chased the shadows. His deep voice carried through the mansion.

He reached the spiraling staircase but halfway down a shaky singing voice raced up. This is when Orion slowed his step and his voice sped slightly. A maid?

No, the maids were quiet. They went about unseen. And this voice was clear and certainly not modest.

“Oh, what an unquiet grave!

What an unquiet grave!

Unquiet grave!

Unquiet!

Grave!

Grave!

Grave!”

At last his lantern showed him the person ascending the stairs as he descended.

The words to his own poem-- stashed away in private, vowed never to be published—sung to him by a strange voice. The light revealed the face of a woman. They met at the middle of the stairs. When the light revealed her in the full he saw that she was wearing a pair of rat ears on her head, her hair flaxen white. Her body was donned in a fur suit that lessened at the chest to  peak at her cleavage. Her arms bare and her legs in long pink stockings. And in her hand she held a giant rat tail that trailed from her bottom.

“My favorite poem I read!” she exclaimed in a clear voice. “You are quite a poet. But a tad depressing. Perhaps a sarcastic ode to one of your abusers would be nice.”

Orion blinked at the woman. Her eyes looked almost red in the darkness.

“Can I help you, miss? Perhaps if we work this out I won’t even ask why you’re dressed as a giant rat.”

She gave a small squeak, “I am a rat! It’s me! Izzy.”

She did not look like anyone he knew. “Is this a silly joke of Brigid’s?”

“I am not a joke, my lord. I’ll have you note I am very sensitive. Just like you. So you best not make jokes at my expense.”

There was even that garish pink bow on her head.

“I see the beauteous queen of Denmark looks sleepy. So I put your mother to bed for you.”

“What?” Orion jumped into action, pushing past the strange woman.

He was on the ground floor and rushing to his mother’s room. The door opened easily and the image of his mother sleeping peacefully in her bed was the only thing that kept Orion from reacting violently to the strange girl on the stairs. Deanna lay with her black hair obscuring her face. The gray at the roots were hardly clear in Orion’s lamp light. He swiped the hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. The earl leaned down and kissed his sleeping mother’s forehead.

When he returned to the stairs the girl had her long nails in her own teeth, biting, shaking. “I did good?”

“Izzy?”

“Yes,” she answered, batting her eyes.

“Go back to the pet room and in the morning you will not be five feet tall. This is one of my fits…Goddamn it.” He pushed past her and stomped up the stairs.

“Why don’t you love me!” Izzy called after him.

“Because you are a figment of a deranged mind.”

He could hear swift footsteps following him. Izzy slipped in front of his path and held out her hands. “Is this about the pellets? I could not find any other place to go. I know it’s very unbecoming,” she gestured daintily and pulled at her own tail in anxiety. “Will you forgive me?”

“You are a rat. You make pellets. There is no need for apology. Now kindly let me alone.”

“But you will need me soon…” she gave a soft sigh as he walked past.

“I’m not entertaining this. Tomorrow the new medicine goes.”

“She hasn’t much time, Orion…” Izzy gave a sad noise. “Deanna…”

When Orion turned he saw that there were tears in the woman’s eyes.

“She has wished a guardian for you.”

“…How dare you speak of her so simply and…” he stopped himself. He needed to stop speaking to a figment of his imagination.

“I am your puca,” Izzy giggled.

Orion turned away. His studies in University had leaned heavily on Demonology. He needed no definition of a puca. When he turned around to see the woman again there was darkness where she had stood. A large white rat crawled over his shoe and scurried off into the hall.

“A new way to lose my mind…” he spoke to the empty hallway.

Ode to Joy-10.2: Maids Seem to Run

10. Teatime Travesty

ii.     Maids Seem to Run

Orion seated himself across from the maid and his wife. He was this once willing to hire a woman on the spot simply because he dreaded meeting a stranger’s eyes. After the fiasco with Amadeus surely the whole county was talking. Though the virtue of the maid who ran away, Bri reminded him, was fair and she would likely not gossip of her last employer’s home for this would ruin chances employment elsewhere.

Bri always showed him the practical side of things.

Another practical reason to live with her.

But Bri was aloof in the conversation, allowing Orion to interview the new woman with improvised questions.

“Of course we trust you with the baby. We would just prefer she remain in Julia’s watch most of the time. She is still so tiny. I do not even joke. Her head is about this big.” He picked up a tea cup.

That was when he saw it.

The tiny white creature crawling on the floor, standing up like a person to stare at them. Instead of screaming, Orion nudged Bri.

She gave her sudden laugh and this made the maid jump.

Orion felt his insides coil into a knot. They would not flex even as Bri’s words repeated to him in his head.

“She laughs at everything,” he told the maid.

Lately Bri and Orion had become more forthcoming to their staff, especially about Bri’s bizarre laugh.

“Oh yes. I apologize. It’s quite strange but sometimes I laugh for no reason at all, dear.”

Orion folded the napkin on the table into origami as the women spoke and the large rat ran about the room as though it were her own. Her little pink bow was her crown. He saw tiny pellets left in Isolde’s trail. Orion flicked his origami rat under Bri’s nose.

“That’s adorable, muffin. You’re very talented. Isn’t he just darling?” Bri asked the maid.

To Orion’s surprise the young woman seemed charmed. “It’s a mouse, isn’t it?”

“A rat,” Orion corrected with purpose. “We get them in these parts. The size of cats. Legend has it they can grow to be the size of a baby horse in Dartmoor.”

“Yes, Dartmoor is frightfully haunted,” the maid fueled the fire without knowing.

At last Bri’s large eyes widened and she seemed to see the rat at the door as it scurried out.

“Pardon me, dears.”

Orion watched his wife exit. She did seem rushed and so he made an excuse for her, “Probably maternal instinct.”

The maid nodded, a pleasant smile on her face.

Orion liked her. He gave her a smile back. At this moment his stomach had coiled and knotted and his heart was speeding from the earlier panic he felt but with no more purpose. The thoughts had left and yet his body was reeling from the unpleasant experience. “Well, Miss Summers. I am pleased to welcome you on board here. We like to communicate with our staff and we do prefer you to be comfortable. And…”

He felt the tension reach its peak.

“Excuse me.”

He lifted his tea cup, pinky up and lost the contents of his stomach in it. When he thought it was finished he closed his eyes. But another wave hit him and the water and tea of the day spilled into the tea cup.

Orion picked up a napkin and cleaned as best he could.

“I apologize, miss. It’s not contagious.”

He lifted the whole tray from the table. “My wife will get you a fresh tray.”

The woman’s face was frozen, unable to give a reaction.

“Make sure my mother gets put to bed on time,” Orion reminded Bri.

He was lying in bed while his wife felt his forehead.

“Teatime Sick. Orion’s own recipe. If you were feeling ill, why did you not tell me?” Bri grumbled.

“I certainly did not know I was going to vomit into my tea cup, dear.”

“You need to rest. Take your sleep aid.”

“I cannot. The new doctor told me to avoid anything that wakes me or sedates me.”

Bri blinked at her husband for a long time. “That makes no sense. Half the time the problem is you cannot rest. Without those things, what control do you have?”

“I do not know. Did you catch that horrid monster?”

“No,” Bri spoke tearfully. “Poor Izzy. She’s going to be smashed by someone’s foot or eaten by a cat. She’s a pure blood domestic. Imported from Scotland. Never been wild in her life. Little princess.”

“Princess Rat. I remember that tale. The Brothers Grimm told it.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She gets eaten.”

Bri frowned and swatted at Orion with a wet rag that she set on his head. “In a few hours you should eat if you can. Settle your stomach. I will make sure Deanna is taken care of, do not worry.”

“Sometimes she hides in places they cannot find her…” Orion called to his wife as she left the room.

He lay back down in bed and looked to the opium pipe Bri had left on the nightstand. After five days of purging it felt as though he would be trashing his suffering simply to go back to the opiate. But his addiction called to him. And he had been chasing sleep off and on for the past few days. Such purging had made little difference.

And so Orion gave in to his oldest enemy and friend.

Draining the Humor- artwork & link

(click to enlarge. Nothing stupendous. I’ve done better, this is just a doodle. I love how their facial expressions came out though. In order from left to right; Charles, Orion, with Mini Muffin and Bri.)

If you have yet to read the story, click HERE to see it from the start.

There is another story following this one. But I’m not releasing any details yet as it isn’t even written. Check back for more if you like Orion and Bri.

(More Starving Artists coming soon.)

© 2011 Luz Briar.

story: Draining the Humor (2)

2- Finding comfort

Three weeks from their wedding, and Orion felt ravaged by his wife. In a good way.
He was tired but he had an excuse to go to bed early and he enjoyed the exhaustion she pushed on him. His only complaint was the tension in his back, seemingly unrelated to the marriage. Brigid Salud had been more than the best choice for a spouse, she was the object of Orion’s deepest affections.
That is why he was so puzzled at the pain in his back. He called on the local doctor for advice and was met instead with some scathing remarks.
“Perhaps you should take a break in the weeks following your honeymoon.”
“A break from what exactly, doctor?” Orion asked, seated in his arm chair. His back was bothering him again. “I don’t do heavy lifting of any sort.”
“From heavy lifting?” the doctor grunted. “Yes, a break from heavy lifting.”
Orion narrowed his eyes at the man. He could not comprehend the amount of disdain people often channeled in his direction. He had never wronged any of the people of Constance, and yet his melodramatic teen years haunted him still.
Sodomy. Transvestite. How I loathe the words.
“For your records, doctor,” Orion spoke up, protecting himself with a layer of coldness. “I have not been heavy lifting and nor have I lifted anything heavy in a while. Assumptions are the twin of ignorance.”
Nor did Orion see how ‘heavy lifting,’ as the doctor called it, would have to do with his back.
“What is wrong with my back, doctor?”
“Tension then,” the older man spoke quickly. “It is tension. It is best to relax for a while. Perhaps you have overstressed yourself.”
“I have been on honeymoon for the past two weeks. What would I be stressed about?”
“That is for you to answer,” the doctor’s tone dropped again, condescending.
“I believe then, I must nip it in the bud and find out the cause.”
“That would be best.”
“Very well.”
“Good.”
Orion hit a bell on the desk, causing the doctor to jump.
His apathy towards medical men sometimes swayed into disgust and right now he did not wish to see the man. The butler appeared at the office door and Orion told him, “Please show the good doctor out.”
He did not even wish to escort the man out. He took a seat back at his desk as he recovered from the doctor’s accusations. He returned to his paperwork but was unable to follow his own strain of thought. As he set the quill back to paper, Bri’s laugh made him jump.
“The doctor was useless, wasn’t he?” she laughed.
He collected himself. “Quite useless. Most of them are…”
“Oh dear. What did he say?” she leaned over him, her face next to his.
“Essentially he accused me of being unfaithful to you and of being a sinful, dirty sodomite.”
“Oh,” she frowned. “Darling, there’s nothing sinful and dirty about you.”
He put his face in his hands and allowed himself to sigh loudly. He felt his wife’s hand in his hair and it calmed him a bit. “I have kept my vow.”
“I know, darling. But there is no need to. I know you love me. I have my own theories about your tension.”
“Enlighten me,” he told her.
To most, it would have sounded cold and sarcastic. But Bri knew Orion and his odd ways of communicating. He was sincere when he asked her opinion.
“You are trying far too hard to prove yourself to be something you are not.”
He thought this over. The shadow of his late father loomed over him daily. The “mad earl,” the deviant and the lunatic. His own youth added to the weight of what it seemed he must disprove. He knew that Bri was making a valid point.
“In any case, Brigid,” he cleared his throat. “Even if I had not made the vow, Lawrence has moved to London and—“
“Bloody Lawrence!” Bri spat.
Her unconscious laugh exploded and she removed the warmth of her body from him. She began to pace.
“Really, Rion! Lawrence! He is bloody ugly and unpleasant!”
Orion righted himself and watched her calmly. He felt the serpent of indignation uncoiling in his stomach, but for now he was quiet. He would allow her to ramble and rant about his former lover.
“You could have any man you want, Orion! And you choose Lawrence! The bugger is worse than me! His teeth try to escape his face! He is mean-spirited and ugly. He is a donkey!”
“Brigid—“
“A Donkey, Orion! A donkey!”
“That’s quite enough!” he stood and pushed the desk chair in.
He was remaining quiet by an act of will. This was a fresh wound and he did not feel up to inspecting it right this moment.
Bri hung her head, her large eyes full of guilt. “I’m sorry…I just don’t like him. He talks to you as if you are an idiot. And you could have any man you want.”
He did not want to dwell on it.
You have chosen the SAFE path, is what Lawrence had told Orion when he asked his lover, in person, to attend the wedding. Lawrence had sneered at him and cut off all contact.
Orion rushed to the privacy of his own bedchamber and locked the door. Bri knew better than to follow right away. He wanted the silence.
“The safe path…” he breathed, leaned against the door. “Sodomite. Safe path.”
The dualities struck him like dissonance on a harpsichord. Either he was a filthy degenerate or he was the coward.
**
An hour passed and Orion felt ready to speak to others again. His momentary melancholy usually lasted and hour or so, sometimes a day, and on bad times up to weeks.
Today, he was fortunate.
He immerged outside for fresh air and found Bri seated at the pond, feeding the swans. Her favorite drake, Muffin, was seated beside her like a loyal dog. His mate Crumpet was waddling about with her gaggle of babies. One of them Bri had in her lap.
When she noticed Orion, her brow was furrowed, “His wing is hurt, Orion. Look at it. It is crooked.”
The funny-looking baby animal stared up at Orion. He knelt down beside his wife. “Mini Muffin…perhaps he needs a cast. We have books in the library about animal care. I have heard their wings can heal.”
“It looks deformed.”
Muffin nipped at Bri’s ear, as if grateful. Orion stroked the birds head softly. “Do not fret, Bri. We will make him comfortable…”
(A/N: Comment/Response PLEASE. i have no way of thanking you if you remain anonymous!)
©2011 Luz Briar.

story- Earl Swan (5)

(PLEASE click a response/comment if you read!)
part 5 of 6
-5-
In another week’s time, it was made public that the heiress Lady Parade would be wedding the Honorable Sir Juan Baker. As Des’ ladies’ maid, Bri was of course expected to attend. She was to arrange the household staff for that bright day, except she was not enthused at all.
For one, she was busy with trying to turn the poor transfigured earl back into a man. She carried the earl swan with her through the house sometimes, and the staff at first feared for her sanity. But Des allowed for it, as it was something she and her new fiancé found amusing.
Des had tied a bow about the bird’s neck to easily tell it apart from the other swans. But soon it was clear that the animal had no need for a bow, because he took to following Bri inside most of the times, much like a dog.
She was sad on the first evening when she served the bird left-over chicken and then realized the horror of it.
“No! I’m so sorry, my lord!” she declared taking the plate away.
Bri detected some sadness in the animal at the table. She had almost forced Orion into cannibalism. Instead, she took out stale bread and gave them to the sad bird.
“I’m sorry for everything…” she told him as he ate.
The other staff must have watched on with wide eyes and concerned spirits.
As for Des’ Indian henchmen, Bri had not seen or heard from their head butler Puli in quite some time. In fact, he had disappeared around the same time as the earl, Bri noticed. But there was nothing she could make of it just yet.
At night, she refused to send the swan back out to the pond so she filled the extra tub with lukewarm water and let him paddle in circles until he flew out at the bedside and went to sleep.
In her spare time, she researched the reversal of hexes. She took the swan with her wherever she went, for she feared Des would kill and cook him if she turned her back. Now, when she met the heiress’ eyes she was fearful.
One evening as she ventured to the library with the swan shadowing her, she bumped into the heiress.
“Ms Salud? Good evening,” she gave a small nod to the bird, “My lord, how are you?”
“That is not funny,” Bri interjected. “Do not mock his position.”
“Why not? He mocked mine when he slept with my closest friend.”
Bri gave pause to this. No, she would not be swayed to apology now. She had already apologized after all, as did Orion.
“I am sorry you have felt betrayed. Now this evening I will ask you what I have every night for the past two weeks—“
“No, I will not change him back.”
“You can’t, can you?” Bri taunted. “You toyed with magic you don’t even understand, didn’t you?”
“I could if I wanted to,” Des whispered. “Don’t speak too loudly. The maids already want to send you to Bedlam.”
“You’re the one who belongs in a straightjacket, my lady.”
Bri glared at Des’ chest then, in search of any change. Des’ eyes widened slightly and for a moment her façade was cracked. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing, my lady. Excuse me now, I am going to read.”
“Don’t forget your beau.”
Bri fumed and marched into the privacy of the library. She already had a stack of books prepared for further reading. She had tried many things, such as waiting for the full moon and magical potions to free Orion from the spell. From what she read of mortals changed to beasts, their lifespan would extend somewhat longer than the average beast, but not by much.
She took a break from the books of folklore and myth, and visited the section on animals. She turned to a collection of bird watcher’s statistics and held her breath. She found the number of years for a healthy male swan and she dropped the book where she stood. She collapsed, sliding down the bookcase and finally wept.
She had doomed Orion to such a short life. She had taken away his voice and his mobility. She had even stripped him of his name and dignity. She wept for a long time there in the dimly lit library, into her hands.
She felt a nip at her ear and turned to see the earl swan staring at her. She collected it into her arms and cooed, “I’m so sorry, Muffin. I’m so sorry.”
Outside, hidden some ways in the surrounding forest there was a tree where Bri had etched a drawing of a woman. She had driven a nail into the effigy’s chest several nights ago and each night, as the ritual told her, she drove it in deeper. Her final hope was to kill the witch that had cursed her lover and perhaps in turn free him from the curse.
Tonight, she drove the nail in one more peg. But she recalled, as she lowered her hammer, that Des showed no signs of weakening.
She looked down to her bird companion and frowned. “Perhaps she will turn me into a rat. And then we will live about the same time, muffin…”
On the day of the wedding, Desdemona Parade had never looked more stunning. Brigid Salud had overheard some of the Indian servants discussing slaughtering the fattened swan for a meal, and they did so in their native tongue, not knowing she was fluent. She heard one of the men ask “How do I know which swan is the loon’s pet?” to which the other replied “It has a ribbon tied around its neck.”
Bri stole many ribbons from the dressing room then and ran to the pond. She decorated all the swans she could grab with them and arrived back to the house smelling of dirty pond bird. Her reason for not just removing the earl swan’s ribbon was that he was clearly the largest swan and would probably still be picked out. She instructed the earl swan to remain in the pond with his kin, so to avoid being cooked.
Then she was off to help Des prepare for the wedding.
“We are thinking of children’s names,” Des spoke idly as Bri helped to tie her corset. “I like the name Mercy but I think it is too common.”
“I would name a girl Hippolyta if you want uncommon,” Bri told her, pulling the laces extra tight.
“I would not ask your opinion on this matter. I am only thinking aloud to settle my nerves. Your marriage failed and produced no children.”
“I have a child,” Bri corrected her.
“What?” Des’ eyes widened in the body mirror. For a moment, Bri thought, the heiress really was pretty, when she was not acting. “You and Lord Arteberry had a child?”
“No, I was pregnant when I was a young girl and came to England from India,” Bri told her with a shrug, “I gave the child to proper parents. She never needed to know she was the result of cruelty.”
For once, Des had no dramatic face to offer and Bri was glad. If only she could shock the woman more often.
“I did not know.”
“You never asked,” Bri reasoned.
The hour of the actual wedding arrived. Bri happened to see her former husband Lord Arteberry in the reception, but she avoided him by wearing a blue veil and being amongst the bridesmaids. Arteberry was speaking to a tall, pale-haired woman who also wore a veil of white, concealing her features. Surely, he was trying to woo her. Bri rolled her eyes and proceeded with the wedding. Despite Des’ proclaimed hatred, Bri was, in fact, the maid of honor, donned in blue and bedecked with flowers.
But whispers from the other women were making her livid. The outdoors reception was nettlesome because it was windy and Bri was afraid for the earl swan. She counted Des’ Indian servants and noticed one number missing. She could not help but suspect that the man had gone to the pond in search of Orion. Or perhaps it was only Puli, missing as he had been for weeks now.
The ceremony became gloomy for Bri, as she thought of the fleeting nature of life. How long did a bird live? But really, how long did a man live? She was weeping when Des and Juan took their vows and kissed. Nobody thought a thing of it, because it was an occasion to cry joyously.
At the reception, a sumptuous feast was sprawled out across many picnic tables and the nobles gathered together to make small talk. Of course, Des’ wedding was large and immodest. Nothing about Des was subtle, after all.
From across the yard, the tall woman she had spotted earlier was walking towards her. But the cook had arrived and blocked Bri’s view. He set a tray on the picnic table and pulled off the top. People began to gravitate towards the main course but Bri let them pass her. She was like a dead woman standing as they shuffled past her and she stared, the blood draining from her face.
A large roasted bird was the main course.
© 2010-2011 Luz Briar.