[ P ] a day in the life

ROISIN SAMAIRE

Arm yerself wi' thorns, mah wee rose. They will try tae tame ye, make ye one ay them. Ne’er forgit yer home.

The last words her mother whispered in her ears before she was plucked from her side echoed in her mind. It was a foreshadowing of what would come to pass. A wild wee bairn she’d been, but now? She’d had to adapt, camouflage and become what they wanted her to be. It was easier than fighting. It was safer for her family to believe that she was content. The crown’s clemency was the only reason they were not dead or imprisoned. Roisin knew without a doubt that her father would try to rebel again if he suspected that his daughter was unhappy. It was the reason she could not run. She needed to stay so her family would survive.

It had been almost a year since she had been taken into the Vanadium’s service as their maid. At times she felt herself being tested, the carefully moulded mask being chipped away at. It wasn’t easy to humble herself and be subservient to a pair of wolves her own age and social status. Lord Elias was not the easiest to please, his refined tastes often meant that Roisin worked harder around meal times.

Fresh eggs were on the menu today. Carrying them without fracturing the shell had taken months of practice and many eggs sacrificed for the cause. The pressure of her jaws had created a small hair of a crack in the otherwise smooth surface of one of the eggs. She could only hope that the young lord was too hungry to tell that this small imperfection existed in his breakfast.

Sometimes she was lucky and the eggs were available at the market. No such luck that morning she'd found herself on a scavenger hunt to find them. The mother duck hadn't been pleased with her, but she hoped her lord would be content. “Breakfast is served, milord,” Roisin addressed him and presented the bowl of eggs to him. She bowed respectfully, red gaze lowered as she waited for him to eat.

“i talk”

art by curiotea & table by soar

Hmmmmmm... Elias' paws were neatly crossed, his eyes closed as he basked in the sweet light of morning. It adorned him with a diamond of red and a rectangle of blue, granting him stolen colors from the cracked, stained glass window. This room was covered in dust and cobwebs, and reaching it required a great amount of effort. Paws would have to hobble up a winding staircase, cautious of the uneven and crumbling steps. It was a cruelty to demand that Roisin cart her eggs up such a precarious flight, even more so when he require that each shell be perfectly unbroken.

Then again, he did not care for kindness.

His life was a charade of triviality. He had no purpose, no greater passion. Elias had not been born with brute strength or brilliance as a gift, nor did he have the drive to "make something of himself". It seemed as if his sole talent was to live in opulence, to sample the luxuries that his step father could afford and squander them—for what else was there to do? He could not value such riches the way that the poor did. To him, they were common. Roisin was common. Without his needs to cater to, she too would be useless.

So he gave her something to do.

A pale ear flicked and a periwinkle eye cracked open and he glanced to the left. When he sat in silence, he almost looked like a young knight or a prince. It was only when he showed signs of life that the illusion shattered.

A brow quirked as she approached. "You smell like the murky lake," he noted with a wrinkle of his muzzle as he approached the array of eggs. "Wash and come back, you're ruining my appetite."
"We are all young and naive still."

code by claerie, art by amphi


@Roisin

ROISIN SAMAIRE

The young maid regarded her lord with a bowed head and steady gaze despite the fluttering of her heart. The fine crack in the delicate structure of the egg was unforgivable for a servant. Lord Elias required perfection and Roisin had failed. Fortunately his scrutiny fell upon her rather than the condition of his breakfast. His words were a cold dismissal, treating her with the contempt a noble might have for a dirty beggar. Her countenance remained perfectly pleasant, but there was an icy stiffness in the curl of her smile. Thoughts of an entirely unprofessional manner came unbidden. An image of his breakfast dumped haphazardly over his princely visage, raw egg dripping staining his unblemished fur and a crown of broken egg shell sitting atop his head flashed in her mind. Temptation pulsed through her, daring her, demanding that she answer she act upon it. The heat of embarrassment that buzzed through her body once the words left his lips were the source of her thoughts.

She pushed down the wilful rebellion tugging at her reins, reminding herself that she did not have the agency to assault her lord with his breakfast and not suffer for it. Teeth bit into the tip of her tongue and she dipped her head in a courteous bow. "At once, milord," she answered, and turned on her heels to descend the crumbling stairway again. Various insults and curses drifted through her mind each time she wobbled or stumbled on the uneven footing. Coxcomb dunderhead. another step, another curse. Glaikit fandan. Half way down part of the step collapsed beneath her paw. Eejit fop she took a breath once reached the bottom.

A quick rinse in a nearby stream rinsed the muck of the lake from her ruddy fur. A shiver rushed through her, but she shook it off with the wet and ascended the steps aiming to return in a timely manner. Knowing the lord would be expecting her and hopefully not because he wanted the almost unnoticeably cracked egg replacing. She had been slapped by duck wings and gotten soaked enough today.

“i talk”

art by curiotea & table by soar

His treatment of her was not something he had been taught explicitly, although it had been modeled. Their lord—his lord—was a man who paid his servants little attention. He did not care for their feelings, families, or circumstances. They were ants scuttling about his manor in perfect formation, careful to not break rank or stray from the hive mind that seemed to permeate the Vanadium house. Those that did were quickly banished, left to starve or live in squalor. It was a simple transaction, one that left the house churning smoothly. Especially with their lady often absent.

An ear twitched as Elias heard the tell-tale sound of nails against the uneven, crumbled stairs.

Elias did not have a whole house of servants. Oh, he could order some around if he wished, but that had lost its allure. As a child he had dabbled in meddling if only to find amusement in the fear and concern in the servants' faces. Acquiese to the young master and risk being punished by the lord for lateness? Or ignore the young master and... also risk being punished by the lord? Such a dilemma had given Elias enough mischievous giggles before he was reprimanded.

It was the first and only time that he had been punished by his father.

Soon after, he got Roisin.
Well, they had. She was shared between the twins.

"Are you cold?" Elias asked as he regarded her still-wet fur as at last she appeared. He greatly disliked the sound of chattering teeth and droplets landing against stone.

His mannerisms toward Roisin were a predictable sort of unpredictable, if such a phrase made sense. He had whims and she fulfilled them, staving off the boredom he felt when Thea went to wander astray. This Highlander serf was no friend, but she was no stranger. There was no love between them, and yet he felt a flash of familiarity when he saw her face. She was not family, but he knew her better than he knew his mother.

Odd, wasn't it?

"We are all young and naive still."

code by claerie, art by amphi


@Roisin

ROISIN SAMAIRE

Are you cold? The question came unexpectedly, a question about her present condition that might have been an expression of concern if anyone else had spoken them. From Lord Elias it was more an inquiry into whether her core temperature was going to be an annoyance to him. She bowed her head politely in response, red eyes lowered in deference as she considered a suitable response that would be satisfactory. Upsetting him was a risk she could not afford. “Nothing I’m not used too, milord,” she answered, having spent her puppyhood in the highlands where the winters were fierce. The wild was still in her blood even if others would consider her domesticated. She couldn’t help, but think of Lord Elias in the highlands, soft pawed noble as he was, struggling in the savage wilds where she had been born. Her lips twitched, but otherwise she maintained her cold and detached professional mask. “I’ll do my best not to disturb you,” Roisin added, knowing it was impossible to suppress her body’s natural response to the cold. It was a ridiculous thing to be concerned with and if it wouldn’t end in disaster she would have liked to shake her wet fur all over the pampered lordling.

“Is breakfast to your liking?” Roisin finally broached the subject of the eggs. She didn’t fancy taking another dip in the river to find more eggs to replace the ones she’d already struggled to find. Catching a cold was a likely outcome if she spent most of her day paddling around and soaked through to the skin. Lord Elias would like her even less if she was full of germs and sniffling.

“i talk”

art by curiotea & table by soar

Hmmm. Pale eyes narrowed upon her face as she bowed her head, momentarily repressing the tremors that had wracked her sides in shivers and caused her teeth to chatter. Nonetheless, there were small echoes of the cold. She couldn't suppress them all, and yet some part of him relished in the fact that she tried. Much like a cat with a baby bird, he enjoyed creating insurmountable obstacles and seeing how she handled them. More often than not, she surprised him with a wealth of patience and deference that no noble possessed. "I will do my best not to disturb you." "See that you don't," Elias answered briskly, nodding his head.

At the mention of breakfast, he glanced at the eggs and mulled it over. "It would have been better without the initial mistake." It wasn't in his nature to pull punches, partially because no one had ever bothered to reinforce the idea that he should. "Nonetheless, it will serve."

An ear twitched and his eyes brightened as he recalled the thought that had popped into his mind earlier. "I wish to go north." He had heard tell of a delightful array of flowers in the Highlander mountains, and who better to go with than Roisin? If they were successful, he could bring some home for Thea. And, it came with the added benefit of getting out of the home for several weeks at least.

"Now. Do you know the way?"

He asked as if she might have a route already planned out in anticipation.

Illogical as ever.

"We are all young and naive still."

code by claerie, art by amphi


@Roisin

ROISIN SAMAIRE

As always her lord was content to poke and prod at her to see if he could fracture her facade like the delicate egg which she’d served him for breakfast. Unlucky for him, Highlanders were made of hardened stone and he would have to try harder to break her. Roisin took a certain pride in her resilience and although he likely didn’t respect or appreciate her as a servant, she was going to continue to do it well as long as she was in the Vanadium’s service. The slightest brow raise was given when he confirmed that his breakfast, although imperfect, was enough to satisfy his appetite. “Understood, milord,” she bowed her head in acceptance of his words and silently promised herself that next time there would be no mistake.

She was prepared for a dismissal when his gaze fell upon her again and instead it was another demand. He wanted to go north and for her to act as his guide. She felt her heart clench with yearning, home, just out of her reach. If it was his intent to make her suffer then his ploy succeeded. She felt the bottled rage she’d kept so tightly sealed pulsing through her blood so intensely that it made her feel dizzy. Roisin shoved it back down and summoned all of her strength and will power to regain her focus. Thankfully it would appear as if she was merely uncomfortable from the cold and not shaking with rage.

“It depends how far north,” she answered, voice holding none of its earlier pleasant falseness, it was cold and formal. “I’m unfamiliar with the lowlands,” she admitted, though she had a feeling he didn’t intend for them to venture there. “May I ask why, milord?” she dared to ask. It was rare that she would act so bold, but she wanted to know if he had a reason other than toying with her.


“i talk”

art by curiotea & table by soar

"It depends how far north," Roisin began but Elias was already shaking his head. "No, no, truly north. The Highlands." He cared not for the Lowlands and their pretty meadows and winding rivers. They were within reach. If he so desired, he could travel there within a day or two of travel and sample their various wines and riches. No, what he sought came from hardier stock. It thrived in the neglected wilderness, that which no man or beast had tamed.

Already he could see it in his mind's eye. A field of flowers with pale petals within the mountains of Tir Na Nog. There would be a thin veil of mist and the moss would be beaded with dew. He'd have Roisin bring a satchel and collect the flowers, some as petals to be dried and others at the root to be replanted. He wasn't sure in which form Thea would appreciate them the most.

Although he was already deep in thought, Roisin's question slowly dragged him out from the recesses of his mind.

“May I ask why, milord?”
"No."

White ears twitched as he brushed past her, eager to make his intentions be known. There was much to prepare if they were to travel as soon as possible.

Little did he know that they wouldn't be leaving for months.

-exit Eli-

"We are all young and naive still."

code by claerie, art by amphi


@Roisin

ROISIN SAMAIRE

Her lips pursed together when their destination was confirmed. All she wanted was to return home to Perth and to her family, but this was not the gift of freedom. It was a small taste of food to a starving wolf. Her hunger would only grow. It would be the greatest test of her resilience and she was afraid she would fail. It would all be for nothing if she did. Her mother and father's survival depended on her staying with the Vanadiums. It was all that was keeping her father from rebelling and joining Kiel in his grave.

Roisin was uncertain if Lord Elias knew the burden he was placing on her. If he did then she doubted it would matter to him. She was his servant, and he expected her to obey. And she did, holding her tongue and bowing her head in acceptance when he refused to let her know the reason for his sudden interest in the Highlands.

She wasn't looking forward to spending such an extended period of time alone with him, but she had little say in the matter. "I'll pack some supplies at once, milord," she said, knowing him well enough to anticipate that he would be eager to leave at their earliest convenience.

- Exit Roisin
“i talk”

art by curiotea & table by soar