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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/718295-Chapter-4
Rated: 13+ · Book · Fantasy · #1752853
Lyllian is forced to confront not only her prejudices, but also herself
#718295 added February 21, 2011 at 2:51pm
Restrictions: None
Chapter 4
Lyllian was forced to return to the same room as the previous evening. The guard announced her before she came in, which elicited a groggy and unenthusiastic response from the vampyre. She was now in a fresh gown with her hair re-arranged, but was surprised to enter the room only to find Lord Des'kar lying on his side, his back to the windows. Without opening his eyes, he murmured to the guard to leave and then returned to his slumber. Lyllian noted a sliver of light coming from a small opening in the drapes which hung over the window - the same drapes she had accidentally sent crashing to the floor earlier than morning. She also observed that papers were no longer strewn across the floor and the desk was now absent. Returning her attentions back to the vampyre, she noticed he neither moved nor stirred but remained deep in slumber.

She watched him doze for a long period of time, feeling more and more at ease as the monster slept. She advanced as silently as she could towards him, stopping at the side of the bed and examining his face. He seemed harmless enough as he lay, his features peaceful and his eyelids closed. As she scrutinized him, his mouth parted just a little as his jaw relaxed, offering her a glimpse of what lay inside. Assuming the danger was currently dormant, a sense of morbid curiosity overcame her as she knelt and brought her head level with his, trying to peer inside and get a closer look. She could see a small portion of one of his fangs and found herself gaping at it with intense interest. Coming to her senses, she stood up but as she did she felt a hand clamp down on her forearm as a voice purred, "Are you curious?"

He groggily opened his eyes as he sat up, his grip unrelenting as she tried to pull away, "Don't touch me vydierac!"

"You didn't answer my question, terran."

"I wouldn't be curious of anything you offered," she said, still trying to pull away.

"Oh?" he sounded disbelieving. "Then what were you doing?" he pulled her towards him, refusing to let go.

"Nothing!" she said as she struggled.

"I will let you have a closer look if you desire," he said with a smile.

She stopped struggling as she gawked at him, "Come now, I know you are curious," he let her go and they sat gazing at each other in silence.

"No, I want nothing to do with you kisértet," and she hastily stood up and backed away from him.

"You know, I really would appreciate it if you would stop calling me that. It's rude," he stated matter-of-factly.

"I don't have to be polite to you."

"I have given you no excuse to be disrespectful. Have I given you any reason to be uncivil?"

"You're a vampyre, which is more than reason enough."

"Is it? You have clean clothes on your back, a warm place to sleep, and I haven't violated you in any way. I would beg you to reconsider your justification."

"I didn't ask for anything you've given me."

"No, you didn't ask, you didn't need to. For the time being I have seen that all your human needs are met, without any expectation of gratitude or acknowledgement. All I ask for is a little respect. So I will ask you again to stop insulting me."

She glared angrily but remained silent. "Well if that is settled then I have matters to attend to. I will ask that you remain here for the time being. I will see that someone checks in on you from time to time in case you find yourself in need of anything."


*                    *                    *



She was more than glad to be rid of him, and it took a few moments for her to recollect herself and calm down. The first thing she did after he left was open the drapes, letting the brilliance of the sun in. She gazed out the window noting that she had quite a magnificent view from where they were. She saw rolling hills painted with brilliant colors of reds, yellows, and oranges, a city sprawled across the land, and far off she could see snow capped mountains in the distance. Looking below she saw people bustling about, some carrying wood, others tending to animals, some coming and going, each carrying out their duty assigned to them.

She pulled herself away from the window and decided to try the door, but as soon she opened it the two guards on the other side ushered her back into her prison. Resigned she sat on the couch and pondered what to do. Her attentions turned toward a spot that she saw out of the corner of her eye, a large black blemish that obviously did not belong amongst the ornate and beautiful weaving of the exotic rug. She ran her hand over it, surprised that it was still damp to the touch. Pulling her fingers away she gleefully noticed the ink had stained anything it came in contact with.

She wiped her hands on the front of her dress, black streaks staining the expensive fabric. With enthusiasm she proceeded to sit on the spot, allowing her weight to aid in absorbing as much of it as possible. As she was standing up to survey the damage, a knock sounded at the door; as promised a woman was sent up to check on her well being. Although the woman gave Lyllian a look of obvious disapproval, she didn't mention anything on the subject of Lyllian's dress before leaving her to her solitude once again. Later on a tray of fruits, nuts, sandwiches, and a pitcher of water was brought into the room, the sandwiches being particularly delectable and comforting in a familiar sort of way.

She was sitting on the sofa snacking on a bunch of grapes when one slipped from her fingers and rolled under her seat. While retrieving the grape, she noticed something under the sofa, a book of some sort.  Fetching the leather bound volume, she examining its aged cover as she got comfortable once again. Gently she pried it open, its yellowing pages within greeted her with elegant handwriting in a style she immediately recognized dismally. She supposed it was a journal by the dates at the top of each page; however she was unable to comprehend the language which she assumed to be demarian. Inspecting it carefully, she attempted to sound out the words as she saw them; although the languages were different, they shared a common script. As she read the words aloud she attempted to decipher their meaning, some words were easy to understand, though most words she was completely at a loss as to their definition or meaning.



*                    *                    *


The afternoon passed pleasantly and quietly as David re-organized his papers and penned a few letters. Realizing the sun was low in the sky, he knew it was nearing time to set his work aside and proceeded downstairs to retrieve the girl. As he approached the door he could hear her within. Motioning to the guards to remain as they were, he paused just outside the entrance as he listened to her trying to sound out words in demarian and butchering them horribly, stumbling through the words and exaggerating sounds that shouldn't be exaggerated. She must have grabbed one of the books off of the bookshelf.

Without knocking he quietly opened the door, noting that she was much too concentrated on the text to notice him enter the room.  “My, my…you keep getting more and more interesting. So, you can read?” came a curious voice from behind her.

Her hands shaking and her heart racing, she attempted to hide the evidence under one of the cushions and stood, turning to face him. He studied her with a puzzled expression as he approached her, his face turning from puzzlement to disapproval as he noted the state of her dress. Damn it, I should have known better.

She stood defiant, triumphing over her small victory. "I see you seem to find trouble even if there is none to be found," he observed, "Well, you can remain in the dress for the time being," his voice was calm but the tension was not completely indiscernible.

He moved to grab the book; she attempted to impede him from retrieving it but he gently moved her aside and plucked it from between the cushions, noting as he did that ink was smeared onto the sofa as well. Damn it!!! he swore silently.

Trying to forget the sofa for the time being, he inspected the volume she had been reading - it was one of his journals. He held it up to her, "Do you know what this is?" he didn't attempt to hide his irritation any longer.

"Yes."

"Then what is it?!" his voice was growing louder as he demanded an answer.

She began to respond, caught off guard by his reaction, "Its-"

"Well, what is it? Answer!" he demanded as he stalked towards her.

She backed up unconsciously until she was unable to retreat any further, "Its-Its-Its, I-I-I think, Ithinkitsajournal," she said quickly trying to get the words out.

"You were reading my journal. You knew what it was and you were reading my journal!"

"I, well...it’s not like I could understand it," she said quietly without any of the conviction she was hoping to have behind the words.

"I'm done with you," he grabbed her by the arm and thrust her into the hallway, "Get this terran out of my sight!" he spat at the guards and slammed the door.


*                    *                    *


She was thrown into the dungeon unceremoniously, darkness surrounding her as the door slammed shut and the bolt slid into place. She sat alone on the cold, damp ground hugging her knees and sobbing into the ruined frock. She sobbed and sobbed, and then prayed to Solmyst for guidance and protection, desperate for consolation and hope. With nothing but the echo of her own sobs to answer her prayers, she laid on the ground as desolation and despair began to set in.

She wasn’t sure how long she laid there before she woke to hear a door open, the light hurting her eyes. Something scraped across the ground then darkness once again surrounded her. She realized she was shivering unconsciously, and as she moved towards the door she felt a throbbing in her head. Feeling around she came across a small bowl, its contents smelling unsavory to say the least. Refusing to eat the contents, she abandoned the meal and laid back down, feeling the beginnings of her illness wrack her body once more.


**Author's Notes**
I debated on whether or not to cut the scene of the journal out completely; in the original it was a focal point for the plot to continue, but upon re-writing that all changed. Still, I felt somewhat partial to the journal scene and so I kept it. What David doesn’t know is she has been ill before (something briefly mentioned in Chapter 2 I believe) and was something I went into great detail in the original chapter’s 1-5.
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