Jagged, Sharp, Fragile (1)

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𝔍𝔞𝔤𝔤𝔢𝔡, 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔭, 𝔉𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔩𝔢

The familial quarters. 

Erin inhaled, eyes observing the area she had missed for quite some time.

It was an expansive room, a palace of luxury with velvet carmen carpeted floors, intricate wallpaper patterned walls, and expertly crafted decor and furniture. There were various couches, lounge chairs, and petite round tables for many to chat and enjoy. 

The familial quarters, or the family circle, as it was fondly nicknamed, was the experimental room in the manor. It was considered a modest room with a playful quality about it; bookshelves lined from floor to wall for reading and board games like chess, mancala, and other forms of entertainment were placed around. On the other side of the room was a grand piano and a massive fireplace designed specifically for an entire family to snuggle up together, laugh, and tell stories.

But she always found it funny when she thought about it; the one room designed exclusively for family gatherings just 'happened' to be the same room that needed cleaning the most often since dust easily collected.

In fact, if Sabina and she weren't there, she was certain her parents would turn the thing into a storage room. It had no purpose to them anyways, besides being there for show. 

And now that she had been gone for some time. Well, the room was looking...?

A grand total of 9 maids for the small room were working diligently to dust and clean off the layers of persistent dust. They worked so diligently that the only sound that filled the room and sneaked into the background of her thoughts was the constant cycling sound of intense scrubbing, heavy dusting, and concentrated wiping.

"Just, swell," she mumbled to herself, pulling away from the doors. 

As she walked further inside, time lapsed, and all eyes drew to her.

She was aware of attention so she walked with a little pompous strut, her head raised high. She tossed herself onto a lounging sofa and fell into her pattern.

She moved around and settled in the cushions, before reaching underneath the sofa, feeling around the floor. 

After a few moments of searching, she nimbly twisted around, leaning over the backbone of the sofa, exploring again.

Her searches were turning out empty, and her pattern, her daily ritual was interrupted. 

She stopped, sitting up rigid, an irked look growing on her face.

"Where is my book?" she asked, her voice resounding through the room. "There was a yellow locket book engraved with my name, once on the floor underneath this very lounge chair. Where is it?" she demanded, receiving only blank stares as a response.

Sighing, she shot up from her seat and paced around the room, searching like a hound dog. But her hunt earned no game. Feeling incomplete, she paused to carefully survey the room, trying to eye out her target. Moving molasses-slow, she directed her attention to the fireplace shelf.

"What. Is. That?"

She narrowed her eyes, peering at one particular floral glass vase seated on the shelf. It was translucent and hand-painted with floral patterns of vibrant cloud whites, anise greens, sunflowers, yellows, and deep purples. It sat neatly on the shelf right above the fireplace as a centerpiece, sprouting a rainbow of flowers. Every second her eye traced the lines of petals and leaves; the hideous vase nearly made her gag.

"I cannot believe this. I cannot!" Marching closer, she peered deeply at the centerpiece. Hidden behind the shadow of the vase and placed in a braided basket set to the side, was a collection of various childlike knickknacks, oddly shaped clay figurines, withered flower bracelets, and wreaths, and one small pale-yellow book.

Clenching her teeth, she burned holes into the sight. It seemed no matter how long she stared and stared and stared and stared---it would not go away. Reluctantly she pulled her eyes away from the 'repulsive' sight to turn her heavy gaze towards the faces of maids, all of whom were pretending to be absolute in their work focus.

"I don't quite comprehend this!" She huffed. "I'm away for a short while and suddenly people grow their audacity! Look at that! Look!" She shot a pointed finger at the vase. "How depraved does one have to be to think that vase is the least bit pleasant?" There was smoke sizzling from her eyes. "It's absolutely hideous! Hideous!"

The room was dead silent as maids continued working. Some pressed their hands harder into the surface of the walls and floors, others dug their nails into wet rags intensively, rubbing already sparkling windows.

"I need this explained, right now! How unfathomably stupid does one need to be to bring that into this house---my home, my space, and place it so boldly in the very area I specifically said to leave be?" She nearly grew carnivorous fangs as she snarled. "Who put that there? Or better yet, who touched my things?!"

Hard swallows were echoing in the room, and they took deep breaths as if they were their last.

"Am I talking to the walls?" She raised her voice at them. "I asked who in their right mind put that ugly vase in this exact room?" Her voice struck them. "Does anyone know?" Her voice had not yet hit yelling, but the demanding force of her voice was louder than a shout.

Not a single soul desired to even part their lips.

"Fine!" She scoffed. "You." She looked at the nearest maid. "You did it."

The frightened maid stood up slowly, trembling. "What?" 

"You moved my stuff to put that vase there without my permission!" 

"My lady…." The maid fluttered her eyes. "I…that's not true. I didn't put that there."

"And how do I know that?" she scornfully snapped. "You didn't say anything when I asked who did it."

The maid shook. "I would never seek to disrespect you, my lady. I did not do it."

"But there's no way I can prove or disprove what you're saying by going off your word. How do you expect me to trust such unreliable things? Huh?" 

"My-my lady, I have nothing to do with this. I would never do anything that displeases you. Believe me."

"You know, there's a saying that I read in a book somewhere, something that goes, 'Guilty by default'. Heard of that?"

"Lady Erina, p-please, I promise I didn't do it." The maid sniffled, resisting back the fear swelling in her eyes.

"Promises are weak. It's either do or don't. No one gets exceptions. I don't even get exceptions. So tell me, why should you?"

"My lady, I didn't do it!" The maid burst into a shout.

"Are you yelling at me?" She narrowed her eyes.

"No! I wasn't trying to yell at you, my lady! I just---!"

"--You didn't mean to, yet somehow here you are, yelling."

"Young Miss, I would never offend the Sutherton name! Please understand, it wasn't me!" Tears pooled down the maid's flushed cheeks.

Erin rolled her eyes, cringing. "If you don't like what I'm saying, then go. You are most certainly free to leave."

"But, my lady---." Her eyes bulged as she swiped a glance at the door.

"---The door," she interrupted, pointing to it.

Shattered, the maid propelled out the door, sniffling in a fit of tears.