Black was not the predominant shade in the room that was reserved for the Wachenfelds’ eldest daughter. Jewel tones of violet, cerulean and sapphire blue competed with gilt against the black, with the sweeping arch of ivory ceiling high overhead.
Medea had climbed every inch of the decorative railing, the high ceiling, and often entered her room via the leaded glass window some fifteen feet above the floor. When she leaned against the door, her slight weight pushing it shut, the Wachenfeld Spider let out a slow, noiseless sigh.
Anjeka dropped lightly from her shoulder and skittered across the room, avoiding the small sitting room that served as Medea’s personal library. She went directly for the bedchamber and ascended the bed to fold her spindly legs--a blotch of glossy black against the shimmering peacock green.
Following at a slower pace, Medea sloughed her leather gear as she walked, removing her concealed weapons, littering the floor with a wide variety of blades. Although her travels had not been unduly difficult, the Spider collapsed onto her bed without drawing back the bedclothes.
With her face buried amongst the pillows, she curled herself around one, wedging herself amidst the pillows to settle into a moment of peaceful silence.
Medea’s mind was anything but peaceful, however, and the thoughts pacing a weary circle through her head forced her to sit upright against the headboard. Folding herself up, she pulled a pillow close and wrapped her arms around it, looking at the light gleaming on Anjeka’s back.
All of them had their companions. Animals were non-judgemental and offered unconditional love. There was no fear in Medea’s mind that Anjeka would ever turn on her for some moral argument or accuse her of failing in her duties. It was the same continual support that Tragen offered Berthold or Lukas gave to Josef.
In a way, it was also their parents’ way of trying to lessen the isolation that came with their lifestyles. Being who they were, the Wachenfelds could not have many friends. Who, after all, could be trusted with family secrets? With their habits, peculiarities and duties? It was something that she had learned early on--only family could truly be trusted.
And even then, there was conflict. Albrecht’s resentment of his siblings--especially she and Josef--was almost tangible. It was that resentment that she had tried to head off multiple times, and if that had been all that bothered her, Medea would’ve been perfectly at ease.
She did, after all, know the Fox’s habits well enough to sense when he was about to make some move for his own amusement.
It was the memories of the little brother that she had seen grow and change over the years. Josef had never been affectionate as a rule, truly only warm with their mother. But there had been something in his eyes at one point that she knew was his way of caring.
Where had it gone?
Plucking at the gilt fringe on her pillow, Medea blew out a slow breath. It had begun with Jacintha, the poor delicate thing. Too delicate to survive their family. And then Chessi’s death... The loss had affected both Josef and Berthold, far more profoundly than Medea had expected. She had not understood the depth of Berthold’s devotion to the cheerful, albeit dim, woman until then.
Nor had she understood that Josef too had loved her.
And when there had been something new that could have put a bit of that spark back into Josef’s eyes, it didn’t. Kaethe had a home with their family, no question about it, but she was not part of it. Her children--Josef’s children--would remain in Ambergris; Medea had no doubt about that.
...but she either lacked the determination or the selfishness required to establish herself as anything more than a presence in the house.
With a sigh, Medea threw herself down beside Anjeka and put her nose against one of the spider’s folded legs. The arachnid didn’t move from her nestled position, merely lifted one leg and tapped it delicately against Medea’s cheek.
“...all this time and I’ve not told them,” she sighed, laying a hand on Anjeka’s thorax. “And now I wonder if it would change anything at all.” The Spider laughed quietly, shifting closer to rest her forehead against her spider’s side.
“That is if Berthold doesn’t fling me through a window for telling the family what he has not brought to them himself...”
Although how she would tell her mother that Chessi was alive was something she would have to figure out when the time came.
Tomorrow.