forgotten

[mute_pen]

It's past dark, but when you need the outhouse, you need the outhouse.

Isabel picks her way across the yard of her father's house in the moonlight, hoping to sneak back into bed without waking him.

Comments

[pythbox]

He beckons her closer. The curse doesn't have anything to say about that.

[mute_pen]

She considers asking him what he wants.

But it's clear - at least in terms of what she is meant to be doing right at this moment - what he wants.

And she'll find out the rest of it.

She edges closer, shuffling step by shuffling step, keeping wary eyes on him.

[pythbox]

"Are you comfortable, my swan?" he inquires.

[mute_pen]

There are so many ways she could answer that.

She swallows, considers which ones will have the least effect on her ability to experiment with others effectively later, and says, "Yes."

[pythbox]

He nods, as though he expected that answer.

"Come up to the castle with me," he says, offering her his arm.

[mute_pen]

Etty has settled on a general strategy of pretending that this is some kind of civilized and appropriate behavior to which she does not strenuously object. This might make things go smoothly; if it doesn't she will assuredly have opportunities to try other things.

She links her arm with his, swallowing.

[pythbox]

The Baron smiles, a not especially pleasant expression, and leads her to the main gate. It swings open silently at their approach, and just as silently closes behind them.

They proceed in this way up to a dining hall, where he seats her on his right; he, of course, takes the seat at the head of the table. At a careless wave of his hand, all the dishes fill themselves with food.

[mute_pen]

So she's not going to be consistently obliged to live on fruit from the orchard, nor will she have to work out what swans eat. That's - well, she'll decide how good it is after he's done with her. She watches him, waiting for instructions or an example to follow; she has never eaten at a noble's table, let alone this one's.

[pythbox]

"Eat well, my swan," he says, and starts in on his food. He does not at least seem to hold himself to any high standard of table etiquette.

[mute_pen]

Etty concludes that she can serve herself, so she takes samples of everything and tastes them.

[pythbox]

It is mostly delicious and entirely expensive.

The Baron also doesn't seem inclined to make conversation over dinner.

[mute_pen]

This is reasonably likely to be the pleasantest part of the whole evening. Etty makes sure she's got enough food in her to last, and then slows down but diligently continues to interact with her meal.

[pythbox]

Eventually, the Baron finishes eating. He claps his hands sharply, and the remaining dishes clear themselves; then he stands and offers Etty his arm again.

[mute_pen]

She gets up.

She accepts the offered arm.

[pythbox]

He nods approvingly.

"You see, my swan, it is so much better when you keep to your place."

[mute_pen]

Etty ducks her head in a manner that could be interpreted as acknowledgment.

[pythbox]

He smiles.

And leads her up a different tower than the one she visited before.

[mute_pen]

She follows him.

One of her bare feet slips on the step and she stumbles.

[pythbox]

He catches her, holding her steady with his hands on her shoulders.

"You must be more careful, my swan," he murmurs.

[mute_pen]

Etty gulps, and nods, and replaces her feet where they are meant to go.

[pythbox]

He keeps walking, now with more of his attention on where she puts her feet.

[mute_pen]

She doesn't fall again on the way up.

[pythbox]

In that case, they reach his rooms without incident.

[mute_pen]

Etty is not a perfect actress.

She drags her feet a little, as they go.

[pythbox]

The Baron frowns.

"Are you shy tonight, my swan?"