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hso2012_r3s3Summary: Felis: The Dolorosa comes across an orphaned kitten and her motherly instincts arise once again; much to the embarrassment of Mindfang. Malaak: Sweeps have passed since Mindfang's fateful decision. Will guilt crush her or will she stand above it as she always has?
Characters: The Dolorosa, Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, OC
Ships: Dolorosa<3Mindfang
Category One:
Tags Present: Sexual assault (brief mention), Abuse
Tags Not Used: No other Cat. 1 tags apply
Category Two:
Tags Present: No cat. 2 tags apply
Tags Not Used: No cat. 2 tags apply
Felis
The Marquise had declared that she had business to attend to. Business that would involve the Dolorosa. It turned out that her purpose was to act as fine decoration for her master during one of her bouts of gambling. Unsurprising and easy to deal with. Even as she was dragged by the Marquise to be groped and molested for little reason. Perhaps she meant to frustrate her gambling partner. It was painful to be tossed to the side, aroused and wanting but unsatisfied. Yet it was not difficult. No it was routine and so as they left the building the Dolorosa calmly stood in silence though her bulge protested its being ignored. The Marquise chattered with the man with all her normal manipulative swagger. It wasn't helping the arousal issue sadly. Much as it shamed the Dolorosa there was something endlessly attractive about the Marquise's nature.
Shame in mind she still stood silently and her posture tight and austere. Till a noise sounded in her ears. It was small and helpless yet it rand out with a strength she could not ignore. For it was the sound of an orphaned child. She turned her head to the side to spy an infant purrbeast crying out and pawing at the air. The creatures was hungry. She was certain of it. Still she had to ignore it lest she embarrass the Marquise. The mewls of the young cat pulled at her however, pained her. It stabbed and nagged until she could stand it no more.
The Dolorosa bit at her index finger, fangs easily slicing open the skin. A small flow of blood started and she knelt down. Her hand was held out for the small purrbeast lovingly. It wasn't much nor was it truly useful for the creature, but it was all she had to give. She ached at that thought as the kitten lapped hungrily at her blood. This being would die, abandoned by all and with but a few memories of kindness. She dared not speak the words, but mentally she recited the discourses of her son, prayerfully. They would not save the purrbeast, but what more could she do? The magic in those words was proven false, but she clung to them because she had to. For they themselves may not be false.
Despite this she was pained and filled with pity for the world once more. The Dolorosa did not notice the world about her. Certainly not the hateful glance from the Marquise's friend. Nor yet the sneer from her master when she turned to spy the Dolorosa in all her sickeningly untrollish glory. A sharp call of, “Slave cease this nonsense now!” was what drew her away from her actions. The Dolorosa turned from the purrbeast to see the frustrated look on her master's face. As she stood she pulled the cat up with her, gently cradling it in her arms. It was reflexive and it had damned her. Her face blanched while the Marquise's hardened.
Her master snatched the purrbeast from her grasp. The Marquise held it up by the scruff as she looked to the Dolorosa who looked to the floor with shame and fear. She could not even stand for her abnormality proudly. Not as her boy could. “Look at me, fool,” the Marquise commanded. She could so easily force the Dolorosa to look, keeping her ever uncertain as to what was her own will. The Marquise had a point to prove, however. So the Dolorosa thought as she looked up. No slave disobeyed an order from her and they all lived in fear for the Marquise. That man. He was smiling more than likely.
“Yes, Mistress,” the Dolorosa uttered in an obedient tone. One so loathsome, but yet felt so very right. The purrbeast clawed at the air, whining all the way to be set down. It was so petulant and so young, yet so close to death.
“Tell me. What the devil were you doing with this pathetic waste of life?” the Marquise asks, hate in her eyes. It was not hate though, but well hidden pity. The Dolorosa knew it and clung to it.
“I sought to care for the orphaned purrbeast. I have stepped out of line. My apologies, Mistress,” the Dolorosa answers in that monotone she so hates, yet cherishes. It is right is it not?
The Marquise's friend burst into laughter. “Gods Mindfang. You have the most pathetic lot for slaves!”
“Indeed I do, my fat friend. I dare say I must correct this situation.”
“That you should!”
He smiled so widely and happily. As did the Marquise. The Dolorosa's heart dropped. It would come, those irons that had so cruelly snatched her son from her. Yet she could not face them bravely. The cries of the purrbeast pulled her from her fear and she could but feel that she was the most loathsome being to exist. Selfish was what she was, and cowardly. The purrbeast so deserved life and she began to weep despite herself. The man cackled and the Marquise stated, “I must be off now. There are matters to which I must attend.”
Filled with dread and self hate the Dolorosa was dragged along behind the Marquise. She was walked to an empty dock and the Marquise stood before her, back to the ocean. Her master would throw the purrbeast in. She felt so certain of it.
“Now girl, I'd like for you to explain yourself. Why were you tending to this thing?” The Dolorosa remained silent, more out of loathing than fear. Her knees buckled underneath her and she fell to the floor. “Answer me now or I swear to you, you will regret ever having hatched!”
Her throat was so number, but she answered, “I took pity on the purrbeast, abandoned as it was. I do not feel that it should perish for it deserves kindness.”
The Marquise looked at her incredulously for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Oh my god you really are the most pathetic excuse for a troll. It almost makes me ashamed to be one myself,” she said as the Dolorosa stared at the wood slates of the dock, her vision marred by tears. “Now, girl, I've a question for you.”
“Yes, Mistress?”
“Would you like to keep this creature?”
The inquiry had a sincerity to it that shocked her. Her owner could only be lying, yet it sounded so very true and she was hopeful. The Dolorosa looked up, a small sliver of joy and desire visible in her.
“Answer before I feed the bloody thing to the sharks.”
Her hope would be dashed, but she answered,” I would quite desire to raise the purrbeast, Mistress.”
The Marquise sneered at her. But then she smiled. She set the purrbeast down at the Dolorosa's feet. “Then raise it you will,” she said with what the Dolorosa wished tenderness. It had to be.
She looked from her master to the small purrbeast, still clawing and mewling. Disbelief ran through her as she picked the cat up and hugged it to herself. It was so very tiny and so very warm. A smile came to her quite despite herself and all that she had learned. Tears too; the Dolorosa cried with joy and wonder. As well as the fear that her hopes would be snatched from her now, dashed for a moment's amusement for the Marquise.
It doesn't come, however. She was let to hold the purrbeast and then it came. Words she hoped for yet did not trust would, “Come girl, we need to get the rat something to eat.” The Dolorosa looked up with gratefulness at her owner. Did the Marquise care? Or was it some horrid ploy? It couldn't be. The Marquise truly was wonderful even as she frowned at her and waved her off. “Yes, yes. Now hurry up, girl, before the stupid thing starves.”
Hurry she did and soon the two were in the Marquise's room. The purrbeast happily lapped at a saucer of milk and the Dolorosa reached out to stroke his back lightly. It protested with a whine and a fumbling swipe. She frowned at the cat, but did not scold it. There would be time to smother him with affection later. For now he had to finish his meal. Her owner sat in the corner of the room room, book in hand. “God you're a silly woman,” she said as the Dolorosa continued to watch the purrbeast. Her purrbeast, she corrected herself. Her child.
That night she curled up in her small pile of blankets with the young cat. He moved about a lot, occasionally crying out until he tired himself out. The purrbeast let out a final whine of futility and curled up beside her.
---
Malaak
Sweeps passed and soon the cat was an adult. He could be a right pest at times and enjoyed following the slave to Mindfang's room during private matters. It was just so discomforting to know he was there, watching. Why did he have to watch anyway? Still Jibril, as the slave girl so called him, kept the ship's rat population at bay and, loath as she was to admit, the creature was a delight to pet and love. He also kept that wretched girl happy. She was just so freakishly concerned for him, but the delight in her eyes as she held Jibril was intoxicating. Let the pitiful bitch have her cat then.
Mindfang sat in her quarters, finishing off a diary entry as Jibril entered. His padded feet barely made a sound and she turned to look at the beast. He had in his maw a dead rat. Mindfang smiled at that saying, “Good boy. You toy with the bastard before you finish it off?” Jibril set down the kill and stretched before looking up at her expectantly. “I dare say you did. That's right proper of you,” she cooed before turning back to her writing. The last few sentences were finished off and Mindfang left her quarters to grab the slave boy who stood ever in front of her door. “You there! Jibril, delightful thing he is, left me another lovely gift. Clean it up for me. Why you might even have dinner this morning!” The boy nodded and walked off, letting out a quiet curse. He needed to be thrown overboard soon, the petulant fuck.
Satisfied she stalked off to the slave girl's room. Jibril padded along beside her silently. Mindfang's slave was seated on the floor in her small room, reciting those stupid verses her “son” spoke before he was rightly burned for it. The damned fool deserved it. Still Mindfang stopped to listen to the girl some. The discourses were so hideously repetitive and took to rambling. She found something admirable in the lengths the bastard took to say simple things, but his words were just so very pathetic. She could only take so much weak babbling about peace and equality.
Mindfang stomped and grinned at her slave's visible jolt of surprise. God it was fun to see her so quickly turn from her obsessive religiousness to groveling at Mindfang's feet as she should. The slave stood and bowed, “Yes, Mistress.”
“I merely came to check in on you. Apparently it is the hour for your ritual recitations?” she said mockingly.
“Yes, Mistress, however it means little and so I set it aside. Do you desire my services?” the slave said with her normal lifeless tone. So very different from the one she used for her bizarre and useless prayer. She reeked of shame. The dumb twit couldn't even hold to her stupid beliefs and she rightfully hated herself for it.
Jibril walked over to the slave, sitting at her feet. The cat nuzzled her leg in what was likely a vie for attention. Or maybe pity like the slave believed it to be; Mindfang couldn't read the beast. The slave was such an open book, though. For amusement Mindfang suggest the girl pet Jibril. The slave's face turned slightly in pain. To pet or to obey? 'I'm so horrid'. The slave took the thought without struggle. She likely didn't even notice the manipulation. 'But you are so lovely, Mistress'. Just the smallest quirk in her lips was seen. The dumb girl went along unquestioningly; a pitying reverence filled her and led to her cursing her wretched beliefs.
Mindfang was sickened by the display and slapped the girl savagely. Jibril hissed and arched his back, but stayed put as the slave caught herself. A light trickle of jade blood dripped from her nose. “Look at yourself, you damned fool. You spineless, weak fool! You’re going to fail this 'son' too at the rate you're going. Not like you can amount to more than failure, however. You've not the courage to stand for anything let alone die for it,” Mindfang said as she looked in frustration at the girl. She didn't move. Instead she stood still and silent. Mindfang scoffed in disgust, “And still you can't even question me. God I wonder why I pity you,” she said with a glare. Still the slave said nothing. “Bah! Go back to your useless praying. May as well live your stupid lie in your soulless manner. It's not as if his words deserve any better.”
The slave stared on, face blank and dead inside. Sickened Mindfang stormed out with the intent to take her rage out on that annoying boy. The fool could use a lashing before being tossed over. Jibril padded behind for a reason she could not guess at. Mindfang took to ignoring the cat and made her way to her quarters. The boy was at his post and a look of dread came to him as she marched forth. She grabbed him by the hair and threw him to the floor. “This, my delightful boy, is for your language in my presence. Do I ever permit you to speak, much less complain?”
He huddled up in fear, hands guarding his head as he sputtered out, “N-n-no.” God it was delicious.
Jibril hopped to the boy's side and looked at Mindfang. The cat's look annoyed her. It was as if he was daring her to beat him, all the while judging her. She snarled and turned back to the boy. He would be beat and then chucked into the ocean. It was as he deserved, but that cat refused to stop its staring. She dared not harm it, she couldn't even if she wanted. It stalled her though and in the end Mindfang settled on a sharp kick to the boy. “Keep your damned mouth shut or I may not be so lenient in the future,” she said before she stomped off. Jibril followed her every step, but she ignored him and headed to deck.
Mindfang idled her time away on the deck. Raunchy jokes were made and grand tales told. Jibril would not leave and he shadowed her about. Or so it seemed to Mindfang. Sure the cat ran after the air gleefully and annoyed the occasional crew men, but why the hell was it on deck with her but to judge her? At one point he was nowhere to be seen, but still Mindfang suspected he was watching. Dreadful creature.
Hours passed and she forgot Jibril through sheer effort. As the morning edged ever near she felt fine. Guiltless. Till she returned to her quarters to find Jibril lounging on her desk. He was curled up and the closing of the door prompted him to stretch and meow lazily. Mindfang shooed him from her desk and sat down to go over her diary entry once more. It seemed adequate, but there was something that nagged at her. With a sigh she stood and glared at Jibril before leaving her room. The slave boy straightened immediately at the sound of the door and Mindfang waved him off. She walked her way instead to the slave girl's room. The wretch was curled up in her blankets looking pathetic.
She left her bed things and stood, ready to attend to Mindfang. “Yes, Mistress?”
“I came to deliver your son. He appeared to have been making a nest in my papers,” Mindfang said as she looked at the slave girl. That is all she was, yet Mindfang felt a twinge of something. Guilt? Bah. She wanted to pity the girl though. She needed to.
The dumb slave bowed her head and said, “I apologize, Mistress. I shall aim to keep proper watch over Jibril.”
“Watching a cat is like commanding the ocean, you stupid thing,” Mindfang stated as she watched Jibril pad his way over to the slave. He sat by her, nuzzling her.
“I suppose, Mistress, however, I shall attempt what I may manage so as to protect your belongings from him.”
“Waste your time if you wish, however, you can begin that tomorrow. For now come to my chambers.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Mindfang walked back to her quarters, the slave and Jibril following close behind. As the door was shut the slave intoned, “Of what do you desire of me this morning, Mistress?”
“A sleeping mate.”
“Mistress?”
Mindfang scowled and felt upset with herself. She was being so very stupid. “I said I desire a sleeping mate, now if you'd please head to my recuperacoon before I change my mind.”
The slave still appeared confused, but complied. She headed to the cocoon and stood in front of it waiting. As Mindfang joined her the slave said, “I thank you for your kindness, Mistress.”
Jibril followed as well, taking to a small ledge where he curled up. His presence disturbed Mindfang. “Also I appear to have made a miscalculation,” she said quietly.
“Mistress?”
“The goddamned cat is alive and well. As such I daresay you have not failed him at the least.”
“He lives only because you permit him to.”
“Were you not as you are I can assure you he'd be dead.”
The slave's eyes widened slightly and she said, “I see, Mistress.” Mindfang could catch the barest touch of joy and gratefulness from the girl. It made Mindfang hate herself, but she turned it over in her mind lovingly regardless.
“Yes, yes. Now come. I'm quite tired, girl,” Mindfang stated as she undressed and entered the recuperacoon. The slave girl followed behind shortly after and Mindfang pulled her to herself possessively. Her form fit so perfectly against herself. Good god Mindfang was hopelessly flushed. It was sickening yet comforting and as she drifted off to sleep she both cursed and thanked Jibril. Rotten little thing.
Characters: The Dolorosa, Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, OC
Ships: Dolorosa<3Mindfang
Category One:
Tags Present: Sexual assault (brief mention), Abuse
Tags Not Used: No other Cat. 1 tags apply
Category Two:
Tags Present: No cat. 2 tags apply
Tags Not Used: No cat. 2 tags apply
Felis
The Marquise had declared that she had business to attend to. Business that would involve the Dolorosa. It turned out that her purpose was to act as fine decoration for her master during one of her bouts of gambling. Unsurprising and easy to deal with. Even as she was dragged by the Marquise to be groped and molested for little reason. Perhaps she meant to frustrate her gambling partner. It was painful to be tossed to the side, aroused and wanting but unsatisfied. Yet it was not difficult. No it was routine and so as they left the building the Dolorosa calmly stood in silence though her bulge protested its being ignored. The Marquise chattered with the man with all her normal manipulative swagger. It wasn't helping the arousal issue sadly. Much as it shamed the Dolorosa there was something endlessly attractive about the Marquise's nature.
Shame in mind she still stood silently and her posture tight and austere. Till a noise sounded in her ears. It was small and helpless yet it rand out with a strength she could not ignore. For it was the sound of an orphaned child. She turned her head to the side to spy an infant purrbeast crying out and pawing at the air. The creatures was hungry. She was certain of it. Still she had to ignore it lest she embarrass the Marquise. The mewls of the young cat pulled at her however, pained her. It stabbed and nagged until she could stand it no more.
The Dolorosa bit at her index finger, fangs easily slicing open the skin. A small flow of blood started and she knelt down. Her hand was held out for the small purrbeast lovingly. It wasn't much nor was it truly useful for the creature, but it was all she had to give. She ached at that thought as the kitten lapped hungrily at her blood. This being would die, abandoned by all and with but a few memories of kindness. She dared not speak the words, but mentally she recited the discourses of her son, prayerfully. They would not save the purrbeast, but what more could she do? The magic in those words was proven false, but she clung to them because she had to. For they themselves may not be false.
Despite this she was pained and filled with pity for the world once more. The Dolorosa did not notice the world about her. Certainly not the hateful glance from the Marquise's friend. Nor yet the sneer from her master when she turned to spy the Dolorosa in all her sickeningly untrollish glory. A sharp call of, “Slave cease this nonsense now!” was what drew her away from her actions. The Dolorosa turned from the purrbeast to see the frustrated look on her master's face. As she stood she pulled the cat up with her, gently cradling it in her arms. It was reflexive and it had damned her. Her face blanched while the Marquise's hardened.
Her master snatched the purrbeast from her grasp. The Marquise held it up by the scruff as she looked to the Dolorosa who looked to the floor with shame and fear. She could not even stand for her abnormality proudly. Not as her boy could. “Look at me, fool,” the Marquise commanded. She could so easily force the Dolorosa to look, keeping her ever uncertain as to what was her own will. The Marquise had a point to prove, however. So the Dolorosa thought as she looked up. No slave disobeyed an order from her and they all lived in fear for the Marquise. That man. He was smiling more than likely.
“Yes, Mistress,” the Dolorosa uttered in an obedient tone. One so loathsome, but yet felt so very right. The purrbeast clawed at the air, whining all the way to be set down. It was so petulant and so young, yet so close to death.
“Tell me. What the devil were you doing with this pathetic waste of life?” the Marquise asks, hate in her eyes. It was not hate though, but well hidden pity. The Dolorosa knew it and clung to it.
“I sought to care for the orphaned purrbeast. I have stepped out of line. My apologies, Mistress,” the Dolorosa answers in that monotone she so hates, yet cherishes. It is right is it not?
The Marquise's friend burst into laughter. “Gods Mindfang. You have the most pathetic lot for slaves!”
“Indeed I do, my fat friend. I dare say I must correct this situation.”
“That you should!”
He smiled so widely and happily. As did the Marquise. The Dolorosa's heart dropped. It would come, those irons that had so cruelly snatched her son from her. Yet she could not face them bravely. The cries of the purrbeast pulled her from her fear and she could but feel that she was the most loathsome being to exist. Selfish was what she was, and cowardly. The purrbeast so deserved life and she began to weep despite herself. The man cackled and the Marquise stated, “I must be off now. There are matters to which I must attend.”
Filled with dread and self hate the Dolorosa was dragged along behind the Marquise. She was walked to an empty dock and the Marquise stood before her, back to the ocean. Her master would throw the purrbeast in. She felt so certain of it.
“Now girl, I'd like for you to explain yourself. Why were you tending to this thing?” The Dolorosa remained silent, more out of loathing than fear. Her knees buckled underneath her and she fell to the floor. “Answer me now or I swear to you, you will regret ever having hatched!”
Her throat was so number, but she answered, “I took pity on the purrbeast, abandoned as it was. I do not feel that it should perish for it deserves kindness.”
The Marquise looked at her incredulously for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Oh my god you really are the most pathetic excuse for a troll. It almost makes me ashamed to be one myself,” she said as the Dolorosa stared at the wood slates of the dock, her vision marred by tears. “Now, girl, I've a question for you.”
“Yes, Mistress?”
“Would you like to keep this creature?”
The inquiry had a sincerity to it that shocked her. Her owner could only be lying, yet it sounded so very true and she was hopeful. The Dolorosa looked up, a small sliver of joy and desire visible in her.
“Answer before I feed the bloody thing to the sharks.”
Her hope would be dashed, but she answered,” I would quite desire to raise the purrbeast, Mistress.”
The Marquise sneered at her. But then she smiled. She set the purrbeast down at the Dolorosa's feet. “Then raise it you will,” she said with what the Dolorosa wished tenderness. It had to be.
She looked from her master to the small purrbeast, still clawing and mewling. Disbelief ran through her as she picked the cat up and hugged it to herself. It was so very tiny and so very warm. A smile came to her quite despite herself and all that she had learned. Tears too; the Dolorosa cried with joy and wonder. As well as the fear that her hopes would be snatched from her now, dashed for a moment's amusement for the Marquise.
It doesn't come, however. She was let to hold the purrbeast and then it came. Words she hoped for yet did not trust would, “Come girl, we need to get the rat something to eat.” The Dolorosa looked up with gratefulness at her owner. Did the Marquise care? Or was it some horrid ploy? It couldn't be. The Marquise truly was wonderful even as she frowned at her and waved her off. “Yes, yes. Now hurry up, girl, before the stupid thing starves.”
Hurry she did and soon the two were in the Marquise's room. The purrbeast happily lapped at a saucer of milk and the Dolorosa reached out to stroke his back lightly. It protested with a whine and a fumbling swipe. She frowned at the cat, but did not scold it. There would be time to smother him with affection later. For now he had to finish his meal. Her owner sat in the corner of the room room, book in hand. “God you're a silly woman,” she said as the Dolorosa continued to watch the purrbeast. Her purrbeast, she corrected herself. Her child.
That night she curled up in her small pile of blankets with the young cat. He moved about a lot, occasionally crying out until he tired himself out. The purrbeast let out a final whine of futility and curled up beside her.
---
Malaak
Sweeps passed and soon the cat was an adult. He could be a right pest at times and enjoyed following the slave to Mindfang's room during private matters. It was just so discomforting to know he was there, watching. Why did he have to watch anyway? Still Jibril, as the slave girl so called him, kept the ship's rat population at bay and, loath as she was to admit, the creature was a delight to pet and love. He also kept that wretched girl happy. She was just so freakishly concerned for him, but the delight in her eyes as she held Jibril was intoxicating. Let the pitiful bitch have her cat then.
Mindfang sat in her quarters, finishing off a diary entry as Jibril entered. His padded feet barely made a sound and she turned to look at the beast. He had in his maw a dead rat. Mindfang smiled at that saying, “Good boy. You toy with the bastard before you finish it off?” Jibril set down the kill and stretched before looking up at her expectantly. “I dare say you did. That's right proper of you,” she cooed before turning back to her writing. The last few sentences were finished off and Mindfang left her quarters to grab the slave boy who stood ever in front of her door. “You there! Jibril, delightful thing he is, left me another lovely gift. Clean it up for me. Why you might even have dinner this morning!” The boy nodded and walked off, letting out a quiet curse. He needed to be thrown overboard soon, the petulant fuck.
Satisfied she stalked off to the slave girl's room. Jibril padded along beside her silently. Mindfang's slave was seated on the floor in her small room, reciting those stupid verses her “son” spoke before he was rightly burned for it. The damned fool deserved it. Still Mindfang stopped to listen to the girl some. The discourses were so hideously repetitive and took to rambling. She found something admirable in the lengths the bastard took to say simple things, but his words were just so very pathetic. She could only take so much weak babbling about peace and equality.
Mindfang stomped and grinned at her slave's visible jolt of surprise. God it was fun to see her so quickly turn from her obsessive religiousness to groveling at Mindfang's feet as she should. The slave stood and bowed, “Yes, Mistress.”
“I merely came to check in on you. Apparently it is the hour for your ritual recitations?” she said mockingly.
“Yes, Mistress, however it means little and so I set it aside. Do you desire my services?” the slave said with her normal lifeless tone. So very different from the one she used for her bizarre and useless prayer. She reeked of shame. The dumb twit couldn't even hold to her stupid beliefs and she rightfully hated herself for it.
Jibril walked over to the slave, sitting at her feet. The cat nuzzled her leg in what was likely a vie for attention. Or maybe pity like the slave believed it to be; Mindfang couldn't read the beast. The slave was such an open book, though. For amusement Mindfang suggest the girl pet Jibril. The slave's face turned slightly in pain. To pet or to obey? 'I'm so horrid'. The slave took the thought without struggle. She likely didn't even notice the manipulation. 'But you are so lovely, Mistress'. Just the smallest quirk in her lips was seen. The dumb girl went along unquestioningly; a pitying reverence filled her and led to her cursing her wretched beliefs.
Mindfang was sickened by the display and slapped the girl savagely. Jibril hissed and arched his back, but stayed put as the slave caught herself. A light trickle of jade blood dripped from her nose. “Look at yourself, you damned fool. You spineless, weak fool! You’re going to fail this 'son' too at the rate you're going. Not like you can amount to more than failure, however. You've not the courage to stand for anything let alone die for it,” Mindfang said as she looked in frustration at the girl. She didn't move. Instead she stood still and silent. Mindfang scoffed in disgust, “And still you can't even question me. God I wonder why I pity you,” she said with a glare. Still the slave said nothing. “Bah! Go back to your useless praying. May as well live your stupid lie in your soulless manner. It's not as if his words deserve any better.”
The slave stared on, face blank and dead inside. Sickened Mindfang stormed out with the intent to take her rage out on that annoying boy. The fool could use a lashing before being tossed over. Jibril padded behind for a reason she could not guess at. Mindfang took to ignoring the cat and made her way to her quarters. The boy was at his post and a look of dread came to him as she marched forth. She grabbed him by the hair and threw him to the floor. “This, my delightful boy, is for your language in my presence. Do I ever permit you to speak, much less complain?”
He huddled up in fear, hands guarding his head as he sputtered out, “N-n-no.” God it was delicious.
Jibril hopped to the boy's side and looked at Mindfang. The cat's look annoyed her. It was as if he was daring her to beat him, all the while judging her. She snarled and turned back to the boy. He would be beat and then chucked into the ocean. It was as he deserved, but that cat refused to stop its staring. She dared not harm it, she couldn't even if she wanted. It stalled her though and in the end Mindfang settled on a sharp kick to the boy. “Keep your damned mouth shut or I may not be so lenient in the future,” she said before she stomped off. Jibril followed her every step, but she ignored him and headed to deck.
Mindfang idled her time away on the deck. Raunchy jokes were made and grand tales told. Jibril would not leave and he shadowed her about. Or so it seemed to Mindfang. Sure the cat ran after the air gleefully and annoyed the occasional crew men, but why the hell was it on deck with her but to judge her? At one point he was nowhere to be seen, but still Mindfang suspected he was watching. Dreadful creature.
Hours passed and she forgot Jibril through sheer effort. As the morning edged ever near she felt fine. Guiltless. Till she returned to her quarters to find Jibril lounging on her desk. He was curled up and the closing of the door prompted him to stretch and meow lazily. Mindfang shooed him from her desk and sat down to go over her diary entry once more. It seemed adequate, but there was something that nagged at her. With a sigh she stood and glared at Jibril before leaving her room. The slave boy straightened immediately at the sound of the door and Mindfang waved him off. She walked her way instead to the slave girl's room. The wretch was curled up in her blankets looking pathetic.
She left her bed things and stood, ready to attend to Mindfang. “Yes, Mistress?”
“I came to deliver your son. He appeared to have been making a nest in my papers,” Mindfang said as she looked at the slave girl. That is all she was, yet Mindfang felt a twinge of something. Guilt? Bah. She wanted to pity the girl though. She needed to.
The dumb slave bowed her head and said, “I apologize, Mistress. I shall aim to keep proper watch over Jibril.”
“Watching a cat is like commanding the ocean, you stupid thing,” Mindfang stated as she watched Jibril pad his way over to the slave. He sat by her, nuzzling her.
“I suppose, Mistress, however, I shall attempt what I may manage so as to protect your belongings from him.”
“Waste your time if you wish, however, you can begin that tomorrow. For now come to my chambers.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Mindfang walked back to her quarters, the slave and Jibril following close behind. As the door was shut the slave intoned, “Of what do you desire of me this morning, Mistress?”
“A sleeping mate.”
“Mistress?”
Mindfang scowled and felt upset with herself. She was being so very stupid. “I said I desire a sleeping mate, now if you'd please head to my recuperacoon before I change my mind.”
The slave still appeared confused, but complied. She headed to the cocoon and stood in front of it waiting. As Mindfang joined her the slave said, “I thank you for your kindness, Mistress.”
Jibril followed as well, taking to a small ledge where he curled up. His presence disturbed Mindfang. “Also I appear to have made a miscalculation,” she said quietly.
“Mistress?”
“The goddamned cat is alive and well. As such I daresay you have not failed him at the least.”
“He lives only because you permit him to.”
“Were you not as you are I can assure you he'd be dead.”
The slave's eyes widened slightly and she said, “I see, Mistress.” Mindfang could catch the barest touch of joy and gratefulness from the girl. It made Mindfang hate herself, but she turned it over in her mind lovingly regardless.
“Yes, yes. Now come. I'm quite tired, girl,” Mindfang stated as she undressed and entered the recuperacoon. The slave girl followed behind shortly after and Mindfang pulled her to herself possessively. Her form fit so perfectly against herself. Good god Mindfang was hopelessly flushed. It was sickening yet comforting and as she drifted off to sleep she both cursed and thanked Jibril. Rotten little thing.
