Chapter Text
Oletus Manor owned acres of land, with not even half of it filled up with the red brick, ivy-infested walls, with white pillars running up the sides, across to long windows with the curtains fully closed. The Manor was large, yes, and housed many delightful individuals, but the gardens were even larger.
This is where she spent her time, when she had "time" to spend. Things were busy, and she knew that; everyone who had been here for a while knew the business of the Manor. Once a renowned Entomologist, now a fiend in the garden who scares people away with bee swarms - it wasn't her fault she didn't know people's allergies or fears - however they were truly harmless, these gentle bees, and she studied them and other insects day in, day out, as she used to.
Melly gave a muffled huff, blazing sun scorching the gravel beneath her feet, crisping the leaves new with Spring and making her overheat in her beekeeper's helmet; it was heavy, thick beige canvas, with tinted black glass that prevented others from seeing her through it, though they could perhaps see the fogginess building from her sharp, exhausted breaths, condensating onto the window. A hot day, perfect for work and experiments, however her outfit was far too impractical. She slid off her brown leather gloves with a small struggle as sweat glued her pale skin to the tough fabric, then unbuttoned her coat with now easier-to-manoeuvre, dainty hands. Melly sighed in slight relief.
Honey bees buzzed, humming through the gardens from bush to bush, petal to petal, sipping sweet nectar, new to the world with Spring's new bloom after a long winter wait. Luscious mint and emerald shards of leaves were growing, sprouts of sweet-peas and shoots of daffodils lining the gravel walkway. Beautiful day, fit for working, "Here, here now! That's too far, my dears, here now!"
Melly waved a net, strong yet soft white string attached to a long, narrow wooden pole - this was the bee's signal to follow, "I know, oh I know, new flowers, all the lovely smells - you've been cooped up during the Winter and I know you need adventure," A smile crept onto her face under the hat, "Mm, well keep to this area, I need you all here to observe." Her voice was commanding, yet soft in a way, which was definitely a distraction for some in the garden. She untied the wrapping around her neck, and unlaced the back of the beekeeper's helmet and put it behind the wooden beehive - safe from damage. The Entomologist undressed starting from the coat and then the shoes to leave her in a white blouse, plaid tan trousers and frilly socks, which were all folded and put behind the hive, too. It was time for peace and quiet.
Not just for her, however, another was in the garden, definitely not as sophisticated as the Entomologist was however. Just like the bees, this man was in desperate need to get out, adventure, wander around and stretch his legs (rather than wings, he didn't have those). It was quiet, better than inside with all the ruckus and different arguments breaking out between, well, not to name names but the main culprits were infact Mike and Marg, or Jack and Galatea, and neither of which ended well. However, the faint buzzing and smell of freshly cut grass was soothing to the Prospector, the sight of the sun sprinkled through far away trees growing bundles of leaves would never get old, never lose its enchantment. His reverie was halted by a commanding voice, yet feminine, piercing through the silence from the gazebo. Norton decided to check this out.
Peering over bushes, wary of the heightened noise of buzzing and rustling of bees, he found himself spying, trying to catch who was shouting, however he couldn't quite tell who this person was. He saw brown hair in eloquent buns, that was all, so it ruled out a few people. He swatted away a bee from his ear, then swatted again when it buzzed under his nose, until it stung him right on the jaw. Cover blown by a bee of all things! Norton let out a yelp, grumbling to himself from the bush.
"Who's there? It isn't polite to not greet yourself, or to spy," that voice sounded once again, "If you've been hurt those are rose bushes; those have thorns, might I add." Sarcasm? Perhaps.
"Listen I weren't meanin' to spy, but a bee stung me and it hurt like hell, that ain't a normal bee sting!" He replied, "Like one of those hornets or somethin'..."
The woman rushed up, hiding her face with a hand from the side and discretely swung her other arm from left to right, and bees buzzed from the bushes and returned to their hive. Her hand remained over her face, "They don't sting if they aren't threatened! Oh my, oh please never harm my bees again, these have taken years to breed and my hard work is not for you to tamper with!" Her voice sounded hurt, rushed even, and her posture slumped. Melly wasn't very happy.
"Shit well, it was gonna fly up my nose or something. Listen I'm sorry but it did hurt so... You got anything cold? I don't want my jaw to swell." Norton rubbed the side of his face, pinching at the speedily forming lump as it felt like it was burning. Melly gave up and shuffled over, turning his head to the side and yanking out the needle-like stinger from the lump. Norton wailed, "Jesus! You could've been harsher with that you know..." Sarcasm? Perhaps... This was the first look at this lass that he could catch, so if anything he was grateful. Admittedly, he stared.
Melly sighed, "You must take the ovipositor out from the skin immediately, that will stop the swelling. You are lucky Aculeata ovipositors are no longer able to lay eggs." She nodded, all those scientific words seemed to roll off the tongue, however her pride for her knowledge slowly drifted, seeing dark eyes lock with hers - her face! Hands met Norton's shoulders, gently shoving him backward for her to rigidly panic, hands going everywhere put her face until she covered it again, shakily sighing.
"I don't know what an 'overposty' is, lass, but you seem to know your stuff," He gave a confused laugh, hands now shoved into deep pockets filled with random crap, and a stone or two. The Prospector decided to ignore the panicked waving about of the other, though he got the hint and turned his gaze elsewhere from the woman, "What's your name? Never seen you before."
That was somehow relieving. Two fingers split, allowing an eye to look through and lock onto Campbell, almost in disbelief "You don't, Hm?-" He made a gesture with his hands for her to continue, and so she did, completely panic stricken from another seeing her face, no, this could ruin so much research - oh no "Ah, yes, well - I'm nobody special, names do not matter but I am- a caretaker, yes, mm...I take care of the garden from time to time, Mister...?"
"Campbell, Norton Campbell. Never knew we had caretakers, knew we had Emma but wouldn't class that lass as a caretaker..." Not a thought passed about it until one thing piqued his interest, his brow raised, suspicion all written across his face, "Hang on, lass, you work with the Baron? For him? As in you work for the Manor?"
"Well, from time to time, I know only that I am paid a fair sum of money to do the gardens," This was an elaborate lie, forged then and there out of sheer panic, red lights flashed in her mind, warning signs wailing, "Mm, and that these gardens, well, they're very lovely indeed. I work for, not with, we have only exchanged letters? Mm.." It's not like they'd have to keep this up, right?
Norton just shrugged, looking back at Melly - who was sort of tucked into herself, curled up with elbows sturdily situated at her stomach and hands holding her face, fingers messing up her carefully braided hair, "Yea." He paused for a while, tapping the side of his thigh with a small pout, tilting his head. The quote on quote caretaker only seemed to withdraw more, "I'll be off, get some ice or whatever on my face. You look well uncomfortable," He flashed a smirk, not that it was for weird purposes, only that his smile was permanently uneven, "I'll see you, Miss Caretaker."
And that's how they met: the unknowing Prospector and the lying, panic stricken Entomologist. A pair you wouldn't expect to find roaming around in the future, planning things, spending time together. A pairing like that wouldn't be first thought upon.
Spring rolled into Summer, and with that the two had been meeting for three months or so. Norton relaxed while Melly worked, examining the bushes, trimming some of them up, tending to insects and collecting honey into jars which Norton kindly carted off to the Manor kitchen - only because he had yet to try honey before, and once he did he was addicted to the stuff, so he'd keep a jar for himself hidden away in a cabinet.
They met up on warmer days, too, with it being Summer now. The green fully flourishing on the thick, distant trees and bushes blooming with elegant flowers and vibrancy, Spring had sprung, and at the end of that was the blooming of something greater, prettier than an exquisite flower of bright magenta with mysterious purple petals, and what was blooming? A friendship, a strong bond shared between Norton and Melly that they definitely both appreciated. Their company grew to be daily, from dawn until midday when they'd part.
Today, Melly awaited the Prospector's arrival, which consisted of pretending he can't be heard sneaking up behind her on the gravel usually on his good days, and Melly playing along as if she was scared. He was quite childish, which she was fine with - if anything he brought light on her way of viewing things. Childishness - she wishes she had that back.
Instead of him, however, she was met by the soft pounding of a small bulldog on the gravel, with a slobbering mouth as it grasped a letter, gumming it and dampening it with all the saliva. No, not a good surprise. "Ah, thank you, Wick...I will, mm, take this now, yes? Good girl." And she sent the postdog back on her way.
The warmth felt cold, the vibrant amber of the sky felt blue, frozen. A letter directed to her, with a syrah wax stamp, the Oletus emblem imprinted into it, which she tore through to find what she wasn't hoping for: an invitation.
Norton had also received one of these letters; however the people surrounding him seemed to congratulate him, wish him luck. Well, some of them. Others were more pessimistic when it came to matches, which he secretly was, everyone was secretly. He read the names on the letter, himself, Mr Edgar Valden, Miss Helena Adams, and Miss Plinius, a woman he didn't realise he'd met. He looked up now, glancing across the velvet couches and armchairs to see two of his soon to be teammates. He caught eyes with Edgar, who seemed more ticked off than usual.
"Miss Plinius hasn't been in a match in a while, I have a streak to maintain," He looked down to Helena, who happy sat next to him, sat up straight in good posture and listened to every word, "Do we even speak to Miss Plinius? I doubt she stays in the manor any more."
"Mr Valden, we mustn't spread rumours further." Helena glanced up, eye contact only just off. The Painter, Mr Valden, only sighed - he wasn't doing it in a rude way, he was just being smart and paranoid, if she hadn't participated in a match for a while now, then what if she messed up? "Mr Valden?"
"Yes, Miss Adams, I understand."
Miss Plinius...
Norton was meeting with the Entomologist today, not the so-called caretaker he'd been getting to know recently. How would she act today? As quiet and intimidating as usual?
Wearing her heavy, canvas-made beekeeper's mask, Melly arrived and stood at the threshold, two steps which caused silence in the departure room: a long, cold and damp stone room which consisted of dim lighting, a large window and a long, splintered table with uncomfortable chairs. The seat next to her was empty, as nobody was willing to take it, and the large armchair in front of the table was occupied by a hunter - 'fiendish, immoral torturers, who chase and partake in this devilish game for fun' as described by some, and Melly did not agree with any of it apart from how this game was devilish.
She gazed across the table to Norton snapping two round magnets together on the far side of the rectangular plank, skimming across the seats between them that were occupied by Helena (who was kind enough to sit closer to Melly), and someone else she didn't pay attention to. Norton picked up on the staring, and looked up from under his brow, one raised in suspicion, so Melly looked directly down. The Prospector only shrugged and tore the magnets apart, snapping them together, tearing them apart… There was clear tension, as there normally was before matches, and the clacking only built the awkwardness.
Being transported wasn't much different; damp and mould-infested, rickety and cramped train carts chugging along like on the verge of painful death, like they would be. She stared down, jumping with the train as it hit bumpy tracks or rocking for no reason other than age. A bee journeyed out from Melly's net, which she simply guided back in. She didn't speak, she never did to the other participants, or made eye contact.
Maybe this was the odd thing to recognise for Norton, a sudden stare from the Entomologist, one he wouldn't expect. Perhaps her silence and mysteriousness was intimidating, or maybe it was the rumours that shrouded her thanks to loud-mouthed residents of the Oletus Manor. It's not like he'd assume, but she did look odd, that giant covering over her head. He wondered what she looked like, everyone did. He heard this became a problem at night, and now she sleeps in a separate room - that he felt sorry for. The train jolted, forcing him to realise both of them had been staring at each other for the past ten minutes, directly, and the other participant on their side in this match, Edgar Valden, seemed to have noticed that, narrowed eyes passing judging glances between the two in their cute staring competition, not that he cared, he just assumed things too quickly - and any contact with Miss Plinius wasn't ordinary.
"We're at our stop," the Painter pointed out of the screeching door as it opened. He got up, giving Helena an arm to aid her out of the rickety cart which she softly thanked him for.
"Come on then, eh? We 'ave a match to win." Norton got up, rushing from the cramped cart, followed by a hesitant Melly as buzzing bees surrounded her; excited to get out on their first match of Summer.
Matches, how did they work? They were mostly brutal chase games, where you have two sides: Hunter and Survivor. The hunter must eliminate all of the Survivors before they open the gate, and the Survivors must not let this happen and escape. Simple, right? Well the premise was easy, but why would you partake in this? How did you get here?
Why was Melly here? This thought always pounded through her head, every day, every minute. What had she done? She knew, every jolt of the machine she decoded, an answer appeared. Every whack she gave which bruised her knuckles gave another answer to that question until her head pounded so loudly she heard those good for nothing machines in her head every day, every minute, outside of matches. Her thoughts were broken by a high pitched scream, a nearby slash and thud, the crumbling of rubble onto rough ground. She gave a wave of her net, shakily sighing, to lift her up. She moved without walking, helped by a strong swarm, toward the sound.
Luckily for Helena, she'd been left by the hunter, which meant nobody needed to be rescued. Unluckily for Helena, she'd been lost under a pile of brick and sediment, which Melly carefully uncovered to unveil a shaking and sputtering girl, crying and coughing with dust tearing at her tonsils and eyes. Melly patted her on the shoulder, took off her now crushed glasses, and gave up the last bit of water supply in her flask to wash out Helena's eyes.
"It hurts so badly, oh my head, he-" Helena gulped down hard, choking on dust and tears as she shook, "He knocked a wall, it- fell, and he lost me he looked for me. I heard him looking around…" Another burst of tears came through as she held her probably broken elbow, Melly slowly rocking her back and forth like a caring mother would to her child, "Who's this?"
Melly looked around, then soft buzzing surrounded them and Helena slowly nodded, "Miss Plinius- thank you- oh thank you for helping me. You can let go now, I'll be alright."
That ordeal left Helena pretty bewildered, so she and the silent Entomologist stuck together, decoding ciphers as Melly helped Helena walk as she had to choke back crying out in pain when she applied pressure onto her foot or knocked her elbow on something. Fortunately for them, Norton had been taking on the hunter with force and extreme resilience, and the other had been assisting too, as they frequently updated their status on given devices. Helena updated herself and Melly, often apologising for not being able to do much (which the Painter snapped back with passive aggressiveness like "Stop apologising, it's distracting" or "Be quiet, stay hidden and just decode. Stop saying sorry." Which in all honesty, he was doing the right thing).
After hours, too many to have carried on counting the minutes like Melly usually does, she was able to drag a giving up, in pain Helena through the gate and passed her to Edgar, who seemed to struggle a bit but managed. She was about to leave before a distant, agonised scream shattered the somber, silent atmosphere. They hadn't left with Norton.
He kicked, struggled, only to have his leg fully impaled with a rather desperate, raging hunter. A razor-like claw, crushed through flesh and grazed at bone, through his thigh. He picked Norton up as he hit, knocking off the mask he had on his face prior to uncovering how pissed Jack, the hunter in question, looked, not even pissed, there was terror in his eyes, defeat. He went overkill there, so he figured he wouldn't drag the poor guy, he'd carefully carry him to a chair.
"You've lost anyways! Let me down, get off of me!" Another punch to the face and Jack wobbled, having to put Norton back on the ground and drag him the rest of the way, making the survivor scream in sheer agony even more, the gaping slit in his leg only felt like it widened, tearing as it was dragged over shards of rocks. He clawed the ground, grazing his hands, bleeding from his fingernails.
He was strapped to a chair, which was ignited. Jack then paused for a moment, enduring the pleading from the Prospector, before leaving to see if anyone was yet to leave.
Ticking. Small familiar sparking. He'd started crying at that point, tensing up and forgetting to try and slip out of the timed chair. He'd be sent back anyway, he wouldn't get hurt, it'd be okay.
Eventually, Melly journeyed back, unstrapping him as the burning of the sparks scorched through her coat and imprinted marks onto her legs.
"You should have left, yeah? I'm not gonna be able to walk. What's your problem? Leave!" Norton was ignored, and he found himself having to lean on the struggling Entomologist. She couldn't leave him, she felt so connected to him, for the first time in this god forsaken place. If he thought she would, he was sorely mistaken. His weight did cause her legs to buckle several times, however he stuck to motivating, often stepping with his not impaled leg. It took another collapse for Melly to stay on the ground, carefully getting Norton to sit next to her, she made a motion to follow and she began crawling. It was slow, but there was less weight on the Prospector's useless leg, and they made it out, Melly having to drag him the rest of the way, occasionally murmuring "Sorry," when they hit a bump or she needed to stop.
They all got out. He got out.
When they got back, she wasn't met with a happy face, rather a sour Edgar grabbing her by the coat lapel, "I don't care how proud you are for saving him but you never risk it, ever, he'd have come back anyway. And no, Miss Plinius, I'm not being rude, I'm being smart, don't risk it!" He inhaled, catching his breath from his scolding, "...I'll help bring him to the infirmary, quick, grab Mr Campbell's arm."
For that next month, Melly stayed alone in the garden, examining her insects and recording what they were doing. She'd got her next batch of honey, which was sent up in short glass jugs, with one always kept there in case her usual company would join her. He never did for that month, so she decided to bring the honey to him, setting foot in the manor, a fear of hers. Of being judged, of the staring, thinking, why was she here? Maybe they knew. She'd heard the rumours before, her first week of being a participant. Oh, she'd heard what people thought, it was exactly what the public did back then.
Melly stepped up to the large doors, leaning on the wooden panelling with her shoulder and having to heave the door open by walking against it, backward, honey jar cradled in her hands.
The entrance hall was ornate, with warm reds and woods to create a façade of warmth, an illusion of home. A chandelier hung with silvery jewels and golden patterns holding up the blazing candles, dripping with white wax. She was greeted by a slightly intimidating spiral staircase, though remembering correctly, that wasn't the way to the infirmary. She took a left turn.
Tapestries cascaded from panelled walls, illustrating old mythologies and Heavenly imagery woven with such intricacy it was difficult to believe they were done by hand. Wooden arched ceilings ran above, with archways leading into large rooms filled with gaudy decor and one or two people, which made it feel empty. She traced a hand on the wall, fingers following the levels and cuts of the boards. The hallway was everlasting and somewhat symmetrical, with red carpet running across the polished planks below, the same emptiness and fake warmth. She passed a few people on her way, felt their stares pierce the glass and canvas netting of her beekeeper's mask, etched right into her mind. They probably weren't even staring, weren't even wondering about why she was here, what she was doing...
The Entomologist turned left again into two large wooden panelled doors, leaning down on the handle to push open ajar to slip through and into the infirmary. It wasn't much, but it was a long narrow room with a few beds with iron railing, all of which were unoccupied apart from one. Melly inhaled, taking off the mask and setting it aside. Finally she could breathe. She set the honey jar with a small silver spoon onto the tray next to his bed with a clink, looking down at him with sorrowful eyes - getting him out of that match was tough, she cared for him, yet she'd trapped herself and him in some web of elaborate lies, however it wasn't pretty, this web, it was sticky and gross, broken and torn and not worthy to be stuck in. She felt guilty for that.
She was about to leave when Norton started talking, perhaps she woke him up with the clack of her heeled shoes, "You got me this?" He pointed to the jar next to him.
Melly nodded.
"Thank you. My head's bangin', oh and I'll enjoy the honey, yeah, maybe even straight up." He smiled, no laugh as he was perhaps too tired for that. Healing took time, and he couldn't be bothered waiting; it was exhausting being cooped up in a medical-supply-smelling cramped room with tight bandages around his leg, "What have you got up to, eh?"
The Entomologist simply shook her head, fiddling with her blouse's lace, "Ah- Nothing much." That was definitely true for the most part, "I've trimmed up the rose bushes and then helped plant other things in a separate garden." That was also true, come on Melly, "Nothing else though, Mr Campbell."
Norton looked up, squinting a little since his eyes were still blurry from his nap. He was struggling to sit up, therefore gave up and just looked at the ceiling, "There's separate gardens?"
Melly stepped over, placing a hand under Norton's arm and onto his waist across his back, gently pulling him up until he sat upright. Her hand remained there on his arm, the other brought the pillow up for him to rest back on, "Where do you think we get food from? We have chickens, a cow, and then we have gardens for vegetables. Hm, lots of acres of land."
"We should go and see stuff, yeah? I want to see chickens," Melly flashed him a concerned look, "When my leg's better I mean, not now." Norton exhaled, looking to Melly's hand on his shoulder from the corner of his eye, "Unless you don't want a walk with me, that's fine, you're busy."
"No, you've got the wrong idea, Mr Campbell. However you've injured yourself and you need to be cautious, mm, please, no plans for now, focus on getting better first." She gave a smile, looking down to him, eyes meeting for the first time in a while, "Mr Campbell? You look concerned."
"No I just thought your eyes were brown not blue - you haven't got that sun hat that covers them." Norton paused, "It's Norton, not Mr Campbell."
Melly sighed, giving a slow nod. She subconsciously caressed his shoulder with her thumb, then looked around the room, "Don't you feel claustrophobic in here? Oh, I would.. Hm, it's narrow, that's all. Norton, do you like poems? I have a thin poem book, for you to read until you get better? Hm, they're children's poems, mind you.."
The Prospector kept eye contact up at her, following her when she leant forward to look around, or when she turned her head, "You seem excited about it so yeah why not eh.." Short answer: no, he isn't interested in poems, but he's never properly read one before so how could he know? Norton was handed the novella by a hesitant Melly, it looked tattered, like she had had this for a long time and adored it very much, he smiled at that. He ran a scarred thumb across the binding, then opened it with a careful motion, "I'll give it back to you when I'm finished, yeah?"
"As long as I have it back eventually, there's no need for a return deadline, Norton. Enjoy it, don't rush it." She shook her head, retracting her hand from his shoulder and holding in front of her stomach, straight posture.
"My shoulder hurts though."
"I'm not a chiropractor, Mr Campbell."
"What's one of those? Is it a doctor for... Eh?"
"Ah... Close enough, Norton. A doctor but for corrections in bodily muscle and joint functions. Hm, often with spinal adjustments."
"Ew.."