It was almost mesmerizing, and he had to tear his gaze away, flicking open his pocket watch and starting at the hands as it ticked away the seconds.
Soon it would be 4:00 p.m., their appointed meeting Time.
"Early as always."
And there she was, early as was proper of her class. Yet earlier than the House, was the Steward.
Almost immediately he rose to his feet, right hand draped across his chest, and bowed low, falling into a kneel as he did so, "Mi'lady."
The movements were smooth and graceful, made fluid by years of practice. He did not think he could forget even in passing through the stygian sea.
He could feel the disapproval of her probing stare, "Get up. You're making a scene."
Mikhail did as she bade, and in an equally smooth motion, rose. He took in the sight of his little Lady, now grown, with a nigh parental pride, "How you've grown, would I have but been there and seen it with mine own eyes."
"Drop it Mikhail. What do you want?" the cold edge of her voice brought a pang in his chest, but he ignored the weight and carefully kept his face light. It wasn't completely unexpected.
"I wish but to serve, as I had once done, and been so content in doing."
Those fiery red eyes that burned not with his own amber but the gold flecks of the sun itself, seemed to seethe, and a shudder passed through him. Once again he was found himself proud of how far the child had gone, the small ember spark now a blazing inferno.
"You're wasting your Time. Our house has fallen, there is no Canterbury house left."
"I am but forever the loyal right hand of House Canterbury." he returned evenly, and made to drop back into a kneel to proffer his servitude, but a sharp glare made him stop.
"Lets take this elsewhere if you're going to just drop a knee when I drop a hat."
"As you wish, Mi'lady."No gesture of loyalty would endear him to the Lady, this he knew even before she turned him down.
He offered to her his arm, and received a peculiar and amused stare, one that he held as she ignored the gesture and walked past him, towards the solarium.
In her eyes he had abandoned them in their Time of need. When the Canterbury House fell, not a soul had stood beside them.
The two passed through the glass doors into the warmth of the greenhouse. A small and pleasantly cool breeze carried with it a refreshing breath of wild air.
Mikhail allowed himself to close his eyes a moment and take in the light fragrance, with just a hint of Spring. How like the nostalgic gardens he had spent so many hours in, playing with the lordling and little lady.
It was then that he understood.
"Mi'lady is as thoughtful as ever. Your kindness flatters me." he smiled even as his Lady turned away.
The gardens so meticulously groomed and cared for, though bearing little resemblance to the more natural scape of the greenhouse garden, were both vast and soothing in kind.
Mikhail himself hadn't bore the catastrophe, as his investigation took him far out of reach, and it had been a severe shock when he had returned but to the dilapidated ruins where once there stood the only place he would endear to call home.
Though his attempts to contact the House had all ended in failure upon his return told him something to be amiss, he hadn't expected such decimation.
But he couldn't tell her of the investigation that her predecessor had taken to such great pains of secrecy. He had swore to the Canterbury House to shield the Lord's successors from the murky filth of the infiltrators that so wished to see the House in ruins.
A slight shift and his arm was a mere blur.
His lady blinked as he held a branch out of the way for her passing, "Mikhail. It's just a twig, the worst it can do is pull my jacket or give me a scratch."
"I would not allow it such, to mar mi'lady nor the cloth that she covets."
A roll of the eyes, and he understood the accusation of hypocrisy behind it.
In the end he hadn't been able to protect them, and Estavia bore the brunt of it.
This he knew from the sparse records he had managed to obtain while tracking her down. The long years she had worked so tirelessly, spent providing for Ken and herself.
"I was not there in your Time of need--" he began, and was cut off sharply, "No. You weren't."
He waited for her to finish before continuing, "Those years must have been difficult indeed. I'm sorry, Mi'Lady."
"Mikhail." There was so much anger, such bitter resentment that it gave him pause, so startled was he.
"I don't want your apologies. Just--leave me alone." she turned to leave, shaking her head and muttering, "I'm sick of this."
She didn't need his protection nor want his help now.
"But Mi'Lady--" he stepped forward and reached for her.
What happened next happened so quickly. A hand slapped his aside with a sharp crack, not allowing it anywhere near her body.
Her eyes flashed wildly and she backed away from him. This Time though, it wasn't the same anger, almost as if she was afraid.
"Stop calling me that!" her eyes were livid, "Just drop it already!"
And she turned tail and ran.
This Time he didn't pursue.
"Mi'lady..."
He watched as she nearly ran into a short boy with greying hair and made to intervene, but stopped when she clung to him.
The boy gave him an odd glance, mismatched eyes moving between them and slowly rubbing circles into his Lady's back.
Neiro had been on his way to see Shyloris when there came a rush of footsteps and he found himself nearly bowled over as a familiar head of brilliant red hurtled into view
"Oh hey Es-" he paused, taking in his pale face and blank, almost wild, eyes, "-Esti? You okay?"
The redhead jumped and nodded quickly, "Yeah, 'm fine, jus'--wasn't expecting anyone."
Silently he held out his arms.
Neiro blinked as he suddenly found his face buried into Esti's jacket, his arms wound tight around him.
The other had grabbed him, pulling him into a fierce hug and clinging tightly, as if Neiro was all that kept him grounded.
Slowly he shifted, freeing his other arm and wrapping them around Esti to return his hug.
In the corner of his eye, he saw a man observing them.
"That's right, didn't Esti say he was meeting someone?"
It didn't take much to put two and two together, what with the intensity with which the man--Mikhail, if he remembered right--was scrutinizing them.
Neiro gave the man an odd stare, watching as his shoulders dropped from their tense posture and the man stepped back. Whatever it was he had intended to do, he wasn't going to.
Wisely deciding that now wasn't the best Time, he bit back the curiosity and prodded Esti, "Hey, I'mma go see how Shylo's doing. We're going to split some of those gingernsap cookies Silas made last night if you want in."
He nodded but didn't let go, and Neiro obliged, letting the redhead cling to him a moment longer.
When Esti finally took in a long and slow breath, and pulled away, and there was the same grin that he was used to seeing, "I still say his gingernsaps need more molasses."
There was a choked noise of surprised laughter, and Neiro snickered out, "Don't let him catch you hearing that! He loves the ginger too much."
Esti pulled a face, "Didn't know he liked gingers." the redhead gestured to himself, "Should I be worried?"
That got him a bout of laughter, one that Neiro didn't bother trying to hold back.
The two walked away still poking fun at Neiro's unfortunate companion.
But while Esti was distracted, Neiro glanced back. Mikhail was still there, wistfully watching them as they left.
Meeting Neiro's gaze, the man smiled tiredly. There didn't seem to be any malevolent intent, but just in case, Neiro kept a careful eye on him as they left.
The man didn't follow them though, bowing low to the albino, he turned on his heels and left, as silently as he had been throughout the whole encounter.
Neiro didn't bring it up to Esti.
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