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Reverie


by punctuation_ninja

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Rain was thrumming across the roof, pinging off the shingles and running down the windows to create a shimmering mirage for the tiny Cybunny maid. Reverie stood silently in front of the window, paws clasped in front of her black-and-white maid’s uniform, her large brown eyes following the path of the water down the glass.

     Reverie was beautiful; that was a fact. Liquid brown eyes framed by long lashes sat neatly in her even, smooth brown face. When she smiled it showed dimples and two rows of perfectly aligned white teeth. Her long, glossy brown hair ran down her back, waving and shimmering whenever she moved.

     The perfect opposite of May.

     The shadow Xweetok loped across the room to stand next to Reverie, her limp more pronounced than usual. Reverie and May were the same age, but that was the only similarity between them. In stark contrast to the Cybunny’s appealing face, May’s looked like it had been painted by an artist who had tried his hand at impressionism part way through. One dark eye sat two inches lower than the other, permanently half-closed and sightless. Her mouth was lopsided, and the teeth were overlapping from lack of room. Her right arm and leg were disfigured, causing her to limp.

     Reverie smiled sweetly at May as the Xweetok came to a stop next to her. “Beautiful weather.”

     May smiled but said nothing, not wanting to dispel the sound of her friend’s song-like voice with her own, which was slurred and hesitant.

     The Cybunny maid placed a paw on the glass, watching as her warm fingers made the window foggy. “I like rain. Everything looks so clean and fresh after it.”

     May nodded in agreement. Despite the physical differences, they almost always thought alike. “Pretty,” she agreed, her voice too low and thick to match her mood.

     “The master’s having guests over for dinner, isn’t he?” Reverie asked, turning her eyes from the window and fixing them on May’s face with impish delight.

     “Mm-hmm,” May said, glad that her friend hadn’t called him her father. May had accepted years ago that she had no right to be the heiress of the baron; no amount of pretty clothes and make-up could make her look like she belonged in the family. Reverie- beautiful, sweet Reverie- had more right to be a baron’s daughter than she did.

     And yet, here she was, hideous and destined to be the wealthiest person for miles once she was of age, while Reverie was nothing but a maid from a poor background, with little to recommend her other than her smile.

     “I love the food they cook when guests come,” Reverie said, turning back to the window. Once again, she’d taken the words from May’s mind and spoken them. That was one of the reasons May loved to be around the Cybunny; they thought so much alike, she scarcely had to speak at all.

     The door behind the two friends creaked as it opened. A tall, painfully neat and cold Ogrin stood there, a stack of books cradled in one hand. “May,” she called sharply, causing the Xweetok to jump. “Your father’s guests will be here soon. Come get changed.”

     May cast an apologetic glance at Reverie, who smiled encouragingly. “I’ll see you later,” she whispered.

     May nodded and turned to follow her tutor, leaving the small, smiling Cybunny to watch the rain.

     “There now, Dearie, don’t you look like a queen?”

     May sighed as she watched herself in the mirror. All she could see was a freak dressed up in a ridiculously frilly pink frock. She tried smiling, but the result was hideous, and she let her face drop back into a frown.

     The motherly maid who was fussing over her didn’t notice. “Real silk that is,” she chuckled as she smoothed the fabric. “Imported from Shenkuu, no less!”

     “Like putting pink frosting on mud,” May whispered to herself, too low for the maid to hear. “It’s not going to make any difference.”

      May sat alone in her room, focussing on not moving. The silk dress was smoothed in neat waves around her, and her thin hair had been pulled up into a bun. She stared at her black paws, frowning sullenly and thinking.

     The door creaked open gently. “Hi, May,” Reverie whispered, her rich brown hair framing her face as she peered around the door. “How are you feeling?”

     “Like... a pin-cushion,” May admitted. “This dress is prickly.”

     Reverie giggled and skipped into the room. “You look beautiful.”

     “I don’t.”

     “You do,” Reverie insisted as she sat at May’s feet, smiling. “The bows match your eyes.”

     The Xweetok felt a shy smile flit across her face. “I guess.”

     Downstairs a door was shut and voices began to float up to their room.

     “They’re here,” Reverie whispered, voicing the words that were fluttering through May’s head. The two friends exchanged a scared look as laughter and greetings reverberated up from the floor below. May stared at her hands clasped in her lap, a frown creasing her face. “Do I really look nice?” she asked, her voice slurring it to a point where only Reverie would have understood it.

     “Yes,” the maid said instantly, smiling. “You look gorgeous.”

     Footsteps thundered up the stairs and May took a deep breath. “Here we go.”

     “May,” the Ogrin Tutor snapped as she opened the door, “your father’s guests are ready to meet you. Come quickly, and don’t crease your dress.”

     “Yes ma’am.”

     “Good luck,” Reverie whispered as May stood and limped out of the room.

     The tutor led May down the flight of stairs and into the dining room below. May clenched her paws to stop them trembling, while Reverie’s words fluttered through her head. ‘You look beautiful... the bows match your eyes... gorgeous.’ She hoped fervently that Reverie had been right; that the dress would show her off to her best advantage. She knew she wasn’t beautiful, but, for her father’s sake, she hoped she didn’t look as ugly as usual.

     Her tutor paused at the dining room door to cast a critical eye over the Xweetok. She snorted, and then opened the door and motioned for May to go through.

     The room beyond was large and cold. At one end was a dining table, laid with cutlery but with the candles unlit. At the other, closer end was a smouldering fire, in front of which stood three pets. The tallest, the handsome brown Lupe, was familiar- Mason, May’s father. The other two, both Draiks, were the guests. The male wore a tuxedo, and his wife a cocktail dress. Both were laughing and talking.

     Mason turned as the door opened, and smiled. “Here we are. Mr and Mrs Robinson, this is my daughter, May.”

     Paws sweating, breath shallow, May stepped forward into the light and hazarded a smile.

     She should have expected their response. She really should have.

     Mr Robinson’s face first showed shock, and then quickly morphed into disbelief. His grip tightened perceptibly on his champagne glass.

     Mrs Robinson was worse. She gasped compulsively and took a step back, as though to hide behind her husband. Her face showed only disgust.

     They obviously hadn’t been expecting her to look like this. They’d probably been prepared for a rich, mildly pretty and very spoilt child; but not her. May lowered her face, hoping that the fire wasn’t strong enough to dispel the shadows around her. There was silence for a beat while the Robinsons stared at her, and Mason watched their expressions anxiously.

     Mr Robinson was the first to recover. He forced a smile across his face and chuckled weakly. “Oh, well, hello there.”

     He nudged his wife, who was still in a state of shock. She mustered a tight smile, but that was it.

     May felt like running back to the shadows, running back to Reverie, but knew she wasn’t allowed to leave until Mason sent her away. The tall Lupe ground his teeth as he thought through his options. He eventually settled on distraction, and tapped Mr Robinson’s shoulder. “You were telling me about your trade...”

     Mr and Mrs Robinson turned back to him almost eagerly, and May took a short gasp of relief, still staring at her feet. The light from the fireplace danced across the floor, making strange patterns of dark and light across the chinks in the stone. She focussed on it, watching the light as it moved. The voices faded into background noise as she deliberately blocked them out. Mrs Robinson had regained her voice, although May suspected it was an octave higher than usual. She stood still, feeling humiliation and shame wash over her.

     A baron’s daughter should look good. She should be able to grow into a beauty; she should be able to make friends with her father’s guests without shocking them into silence.

     She didn’t belong in this society, and her very existence was detrimental to the people she loved. She glanced up at Mason, and knew she’d never be able to interpret the look on his face as anything other than shame.

     They were ignoring her now, so very slowly she edged back into the safety of the thicker shadows. Once she was out of the range of the fire’s light, she turned and bolted, knowing they wouldn’t follow her.

     May sat on the floor of her wardrobe, huddled amongst the expensive silks and satins, arms wrapped around her legs, which she’d drawn up to her chest. Her dress would be creased, but she didn’t care.

     Her room had the bad luck to be built directly over the sitting room, and the undistinguishable murmur of voices filtered through the wood. Mr Robinson was the main speaker, and his tone sounded harsh. Whenever Mason spoke, it was concerned.

     The door to the closet creaked open, and two liquid brown eyes radiated worry as they peered through. “May? Are you alright?”

     “I guess,” the Xweetok muttered, grateful that her eyes were dry. Someone downstairs raised their voice for a second, and then it grew quiet again. Reverie slowly loped over to her friend and dropped down beside her, wrapping her arm around the Xweetok’s shoulder. “Things are going to be okay. Mason cares about you.”

     “I suppose,” May whispered, her voice slurred again. “I just wish...”

     Reverie waited patiently, staring at her feet as May organised her thoughts.

     “I just wish I was more like you.”

     The Cybunny maid sighed quietly as she pulled May closer. “If you were any more like me, we’d be twins.”

     May smiled faintly. “You know what I mean. You’re so pretty...”

     “Things like that don’t matter.”

     “They do to Mason’s friends,” May muttered as the voices downstairs grew louder again. “Apparently they matter a lot.”

     Reverie didn’t say anything else, because there was nothing left to say. The two friends huddled next to each other, listening to Mr Robinson lecture Mason furiously. The words were indistinguishable, but it was obvious they were talking about her. Both could feel change rocketing towards them, and both shuddered at the thought of it.

     May breathed through her nose, fighting against the dampness in her eyes. Fists clenched at her sides, face down, eyes focussed on the ground. Her tutor was still talking, but the words sounded far away. Opposite her, standing huddled in the corner, was Reverie, paws clasped together under her chin, her face damp with the tears May refused to let appear in her own eyes.

     Phrases lifted out of the desolate fog, each one seemingly aimed at her as a verbal barb. “...private school... good institution... far away... leave immediately...”

     May raised her eyes to look at her friend. Reverie- calm Reverie, patient Reverie, sweet Reverie- looked more heart-broken than she’d ever seen her. She was shaking her head in denial as silent sobs wracked through her body.

     They’d relied on each other so much, they were so close, virtually inseparable; it felt impossible to think living in a different building, let alone a different continent, where her new boarding school apparently was. Like she was going to lose a part of her in leaving, like it would cut a hole in her that would never heal.

     There was a rattle as a carriage drew up outside the building. May’s suitcases, already packed for her, stood ready by the door.

     “May,” an all too familiar voice called as Mason appeared in the doorway. “May, this will be good for you. You’ll like it; it’s a new culture. You can finally make some friends.”

     Reverie, still hiding in the corner where no one would see her, shook her head in disgust and despair, misery twisting her beautiful features.

     May’s throat was tight and her mouth was dry as she nodded. There was no point in arguing with Mason; he’d already had his mind made up for him, there was no way he would waver. Her tutor placed a paw on May’s back and nudged her towards the door, saying something about deadlines. May didn’t listen to her, but obediently stumbled forward and out of the house, feeling numb.

     Reverie followed them, keeping to the back of the procession to avoid notice. Her face was still damp with tears and her tortured eyes followed May, almost hungrily, as though she couldn’t stand to look anywhere else in their last few seconds together.

     May paused at the door of the carriage to look back at the Cybunny maid. Their eyes locked for a second, and then someone gave her a push into the coach and the door was closed behind her.

     May felt dead. She could feel her heart beat slowly, but every other part of her body seemed to have shut down to avoid feeling the over-whelming grief of losing her friend. The coach jerked and then began to roll forward, and her lop-sided ears burnt as Reverie let out an agonized, tortured scream of despair behind them, the sound already fading as they drove away from the house.

     The tears she had kept in check materialized now, and she let the drip down her disfigured face.

     Because she knew, all too clearly, that she would never see her friend again.

     Reverie could not and would not follow her as she left for a new continent; and left at her father’s house, her presence would fade and disappear, until she was nothing but a memory walking the hallways, crying of wasted hopes and useless wishes, just a dream of what could never be reality.

     Because that was all she was, and all she ever would be; a dream.

The End

Reverie (noun): a fantastic notion or theory; a delusion; a dream.

 
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