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Ivory sat on her bed, hands folded neatly in her lap. She was still wearing her uniform, despite it being well past time to take showers and get in bed. Even she, who always waited until later to bathe due to her crippling anxiety, would say it was a bit too late to do so now. But her head hurt, a dull aching with a sting by her eyes, and her ears rang, despite the fact that her injuries had healed. Her chest felt tight, too: perhaps she had tied her apron too tight this morning.
She didn’t get up. She couldn’t bring herself to. Ivory had way too many swirling thoughts to do so. She tried not to listen to them.
The room was too quiet. Serapter should be here by now, shouldn’t he? Maybe he had taken up one of Ash’s jobs and stopped to clean up the kitchen before showering and that was why he was late. That had to be right. It had happened before, after all. The candle on the desk flickered.
Or maybe he had lost something. Perhaps his sunflower brooch had gone missing again or he was making sure he put it away properly. It had held him up a bit before the funeral, hadn’t it? It wasn’t good to be late. It was likely Serapter was simply making sure everything was in its proper place. Serapter was thoughtful like that. That was probably why he hadn’t gotten to their room yet: either helping Ash or making sure everything was tidy in case he was called. That made sense.
The door opened, and Ivory didn’t bother looking up. “Hi, S-Serapter,” she muttered. For some reason, talking felt weird. More… difficult, almost, although it usually was. Maybe she should untie her apron or take off her dress.
“Hey, Ivory,” Serapter returned. “Sorry, I uh, got snatched into this… whirlwind of various tasks. First Ash needed a bit of help, then Clown called me in for a quick meeting. Nothing bad, just a check-in. He might actually be calling you for one tomorrow, if he hasn’t already today.”
Ivory just nodded, accepting that answer. So Mr. Pierce might call her for a check-in tomorrow… Hopefully it was just Mr. Pierce there, Ivory didn’t think she could handle anyone else. Mr. Pierce’s room wasn’t the same as the detectives’. It was more homey. And Mr. Pierce was nicer, even if he could be pretty stern.
Serapter put the little flame out and set the snuffer down with a soft thunk. It was dark now; the window offered little light. “Soooo… How’s your day been?” He asked, climbing up to the top bunk he always slept in. That hadn’t been a verbal agreement, if Ivory could recall. Her memory was very poor, though.
Ivory breathed in. “…Fine.”
Ivory sat in silence, for a moment. Either Serapter would continue to talk, which he usually did, or he would go to bed. She probably should shower soon, Mr. Pierce had said it was required. “I mean, what did you get up to? Like, all I really did extra today was helping Ash or meeting with Clown.”
“I did m-my daily tasks w-with Mr. Hemlo-… Pyroscythe,” she answered, trying to still her shaking voice. Ivory didn’t know why… “H-he didn’t ask for much e-else, s-so I just stood there. He speaks a-a lot, asks me questions.”
Ivory heard the bed creak slightly above her, Serapter’s arm nearly hitting her face. He was probably laying down, then. “What does he talk about? I mean, I know he’s one of the more talkative, but I’ve never actually been a servant.”
Ivory squinted a bit, rolling her shoulders. “But y-you are a butler, are you not?” She asked. He was a servant, just as much as she was. The maids and butlers had different jobs, but they were all servants at the estate.
Serapter chuckled quietly. It wasn’t menacing like Detective Bromethius. “I meant, like… a personal servant. For the Hemlockes, ya know? I mean, yeah, anyone who is in these dorms is a servant in some capacity, but not all of us work directly with the family.”
Ivory nodded, giving a quiet hum. That made sense. “Ah. I see what you mean, Serapter.”
The conversation fizzled out a bit. Ivory just breathed. Suddenly, a thought resurfaced. “Sorry, sir, but you a-asked about… Pyroscythe, correct?”
Serapter huffed. “Uhhhh, yeah. What kind of stuff does he talk about; what does he do?”
“Well, he, uh, tells me his breakfast a-and when to set his bath—”
“No, no,” Serapter interrupted. “I meant what he talks about in conversation, not during tasks.”
“Ohh…” Ivory hummed. “W-well, he tells me a lot. And asks a lot. He taught me what it means to call someone a f- ‘fruit’ a few days ag-go.” That had been a conversation; an answer to her question. He had spoken about it while Ivory was working, but she was always working. It hadn’t really been a task.
Serapter snorted above her, snickering as he sat up, creaking the bed. “Oh, did he? That’s… an interesting topic.” Ivory nodded.
“I-it is,” she agreed. “He said it means… man w-who loves men. I… don’t quite understand why.” The word ‘fruit’ as a descriptor didn’t make much sense. Pyroscythe had been called ‘fruity’. Odd phrasing. It didn’t have any real correlations.
“I don’t really know. It’s a slang term,” Serapter replied. “I mean, Pyro might not even know. It’s just… people don’t usually bother learning the history behind every word ever. That would probably get pretty boring.” That probably wasn’t smart. What if someone used a word they didn’t mean? “Like dusting for all eternity.” Ivory actually liked dusting.
“Okay.”
…
The bed creaked again as Serapter laid back down. “Have you showered yet? You’re still in your maid’s outfit.”
“…Oh. I haven’t,” Ivory answered, standing up and smoothing out her skirt. “I’ll go do that now.” Some time between the conversation starting and ending, Ivory’s headache had faded and the tightness of her chest had loosened a little.
“Okay!” Serapter called, just as she was about to leave the door. “If I’m awake when you’re back, we can sneak onto the roof again. Or not, it is getting cold out.” Ivory just nodded.
“Okay. Bye, Serapter.”
As she left, shutting the door gently, Serapter was still talking. He said that people got annoyed by his self-titled “blabbering,” but Ivory didn’t see it. If she didn’t talk well and was, as Mr. Minute had put it, stunted, then it was good that she was assigned someone who talked a lot. It helped her appear slightly less quiet. Less suspicious, although she had done nothing deserving of suspicion.
Ivory undressed, set her clothes in the hamper, and grabbed a towel. She twisted the tap and, with a sigh, stepped under the cold water to cleanse her mind.
———
Ivory slipped into the room silently, her nightgown soft as it swished about her ankles. It didn’t have a gap for her tail, though. Maybe she had grabbed the wrong one; hopefully no one would mind.
The room was darker than she had left it, probably because there wasn’t even the light of the moon outside right now. That was fine by her. Any less ways for her to see or be seen was probably better. The only eyes that could hypothetically be staring at her right now were Serapter’s, and Ivory could hear his quiet snoring.
The shower had helped, honestly. The cold washing over her mostly healed body was nice, and the feeling of detangling her hair was pleasant. It was quiet, too, just the ever-present ticking of clocks and the rain-like sound of water dripping from the tap. Her head had fully stopped hurting, her chest loosened, and Ivory made a mental note to make sure she tied her ribbons right tomorrow.
Taking breaths into her lungs slightly deeper than necessary, Ivory tucked herself into the nicest bed she’d ever slept in. Even if it was more stressful than anticipated, she was grateful for the opportunity that Mr. Minute had offered her here.
Eventually Ivory fell still, breathing even, belly-down in her bedding. Despite her loud mind, she didn’t get any night terrors, at least not that she would remember by morning. If it weren’t for her breathing, she would almost seem dead in her sleep.