Euotioa: Fallen Lands Draft Chapter 5

Euotioa: Fallen Lands

Draft Chapter 5

         Penelope's eyes first glazed at her clock, then stared out her window. Down below she could feel the presence of the higher classes preparing for the Queen's party. No one of importance was walking the streets, but she could see servants bustling around from nearby shops. No doubt these were ill-prepared guests, trying to find the right hat or pastry to honour their Queen with. Penelope was disgusted by all this. No person, no matter who they are should command such time and effort out of people. She highly doubted Queen Hageburn earned this respect out of compassion for the people.
         "You look beautiful, my sweet." Uncle Donald said the words and stepped into the room. He then closed the door, walking over to place his hand on her shoulder. "Penelope, did you-" "Yes Uncle Donald! Thanks." She brushed off his shoulder and remained silent. Their gaze was perpendicular. Penelope continued watching the servants while her uncle observed her dress. "It really is quite stunning. It's a Dureau design, they told me. Best in the land...and it fits you perfectly. Stunningly, even." Dominiques compliments were heard by her ears, but Penelope defiantly focused her attention at the streets below. She wore a silver dress, with transparent white lace around her arms and legs. The dress was slim and curved off at her front with mock topaz's. As she shifted her feet,(in simple, yet elegant yellow shoes) the topaz's glinted slightly with the sunlights movement. She really did look stunning.
         "You know, I figure your father would know what to say at this moment," Dominique continued. "Then again I or no one else knew the man. Hell, I've raised you and I'm still trying to figure out just who you are! I geuss..I assume that makes you two more alike than I'd imagined." Penelope swallowed. Listening to talk of her father made her uneasy, or sad, more accurately. "Uncle Donald," she breathed, trying to mix in her sadness with her previous rebellious anger. "Thank you." Her words didn't help her case. "But I don't want to go to this party, or ball, or whatever it is!" Dominique stiffened. "It's a ceremony Penelope, to honor our Queen and our troops for protecting us." Penelope felt the tears return. She balled her fists and hid beside her bed posts to hide them. "Stop berating my speech! People like you are why I don't want to live in this fucking shithole!" "Watch your tounge!" Dominique snapped. "And I am not berating you, I am correcting you. Talking like that to the wrong people will make you sound-" "I don't care how I sound. And I don't care about them!"
         Dominique tried his best to remain calm. He hadn't a bad temper and was certainly no violent man. The sun had all but set and Penelope was starting to turn his mood sour for the night. "Listen young lady, you better start caring about those people. You might be obeying their laws or working in their houses-" "Or I might be sold to shag their son and give them children. Is that why you're dragging me along?" "Of course not! Don't be ridiculous!" Dominique had to pause; his rampant emotions tended to cause him to stutter. "Those times have passed. The Higher classes, they may not be able to just take what they want anymore, but they've gotten crafty! You have to educate yourself on the world Penelope, show these people your just as competent and worthy as they are! Or else in one sense or another, they will own you." Penelope was now gripping the bedpost so hard she felt her fingers joints snap. "So is that it then? I'm supposes to just grovel and asskiss so these people will throw me a bone?" She took a deep breath; her nose was very obviously clogged.
         Dominique reached in his pocket to find a handkerchief. Crossing her bedpost he found Penelope's beautiful face red and her eyes swollen with tears. Penelope turned and grunted. Dominique threw the cloth into her lap. "The world...has changed, my sweet." he said. "Everyone is...so caught up in...chasing what they don't have...instead of loving what they got." Penelope turned back around; her uncle's head was bent and she saw a sad glimmer in his eye. "No one respects us for who we are anymore. There's no more Reynold the great, or Thomas the Kind. They were forgotten with the fairy tales. Now it's Jane Feynard with the best dresses or Kane Diggold with the largest cloak in town." Penelope didn't know how to respond. She never took her uncle for such a cynic of the world. He was kind and gentle and these words sounded so strange to her...so heartbroken. They felt like hers.
         "Penelope, my sweet. I was nothing for almost fifteen years. Do you remember our old house when you were a child?" Penelope found the empathy only to nod. "When I applied for a loan at the bank, they thought I was a madman," he continued. "'You're a bum,' they said. 'No schooling whatsoever, no work history...how do you expect to pay us back?" Penelope's happiest years were in that house. She remembered the damp morning air by the beachside as she played. Dominique spent hours watching her play in the sand...but not nearly enough time fixing the room not to leak. "I told them I had served in the Queen's navy, but that didn't matter. I was just another grain of sand in an ocean of nobodies. I didn't have the right clothes, the right house, the right anything. I was a common Lower from the Southernlands who didn't know anything about anything. I was nothing."
         Penelope's tears had run dry. Her anger still resided, but it was no longer focused on her uncle. "Uncle Donald, you are not nothing." she said. She rose, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You are the kindest, most sweetest man that I know." Penelope's mind raced for more words of comfort. She could find no more. "Penelope my sweet...thank you." said Dominique. He took the handkerchief back and put it to work on his own face. "But do you understand my conundrum? All I ever wanted was the best for you, for both of us. I empathize with your thoughts. I had to receive our invitations from Sigmund Drottle, the Queen's chief executive of Festive Activities." Penelope found her distaste rising once more. "There's a committee devoted to parties?" Dominique nodded with a faint smile. "Indeed, a wonderful commitment to our taxes. He talked to me for nearly an hour over his ingenious invention to use scented rags after using the latrine." Penelope gave him a sniffle, designated as her responsive laughter.
         "Penelope, I-". The clock rang, striking the hour of seven. The room was now dark, illuminated partially by the orange and gold street lamps hung from the houses. Already the two of them could hear patrons beginning their walk to the castle. "It is time. We'll talk later, my sweet. I assure you." said Dominique. He rose and motioned for her to follow. "What will we talk about Uncle Donald?"she asked. He sighed, gripping the necklace under his shirt. "Everything."

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