❛ I like the way you touch me—gentle, like you actually care. ❜ (Messmer to Gem)
When assigned her new position, the woman had approached it with trepidation. For the man she was expected to serve was known to her only in stories; such stories that mothers would tell to frighten their children into behaving. Messmer; the Impaler, curse of Hornsent's and beholder of cleansing flame. It was a name that was quick to spread fear among those that heard it. And yet, as the woman approached Shadow Keep, single bag of belongings on her back, she couldn't help but not just how terribly sad it all looked.
Where she had once expected flames and rage, she instead found damp and mould. Priests that roamed the halls regarded her with hollow looks and silent motions of direction. It was as though all around her were ghosts, the silence deafening save for the rustle of pages around her. Why had she come, they wondered? Why, after all this time, had someone finally answered the call of service? When all had run in thought of their Lord's name?
She had ascended the keep, hands clutching tight to the strap of her bag as she approached the daunting doors of her Lord's chamber. She was not sure what to expect when she entered, but for certain it had not been the saddened gaze of the man before her. When he spoke, it was with the dignity of a Lord, but there was a pain to it that couldn't be denied. She swore herself to him then; a handmaiden to follow his whim and care for him. And despite her nervousness, she took to her role like a moth to a flame. Though, the Lord rarely spoke to her, she did not mind filling the silence herself.
The days she worked became weeks and then became months, and though she knew the keep like the back of her hand; she could never grow used to the silence. Instead, she found that silence creeping under her skin as though it were a parasite and her usual bubbly personality grew unusually quiet as she drew her Lord his bath that day.
The tub was large, closer to the size of a bath for a group of people. She took her position behind him as he sat within the warm water, gently rubbing soap into his sharp red hair. She leaned his head back to rinse, a washcloth gently rubbing against his face. So focused she had been on his work, she almost hadn't heard him speak. But when she did, she found herself pausing, blue eyes blinking in shock; not only at him speaking, but what he had said.
"I do care..." She spoke softly, looking down at his face; the back of his head by her knees "Is that strange to you, my Lord?".
