CLIW

The Kingdom of Sayyar

Rosemund heard laughing as she walked away from the table, and she wondered how easy it would be to get away with it if she put arsenic in the next round of wine. Quickly she stopped herself from thinking this, for although it wasn't meant seriously, she had no intention to let herself become bitter enough to truly consider something so heinous. Instead, she made a point of planning when her next brawl would be. Not tonight, for she would be up too late tending to this needy lot, but tomorrow night for certain! First round she'd pretend the bastard was Aire, second the Queen, and she wouldn't get drunk beforehand so she would probably win. The thought brought a savage smile to her face.

Her nephew tapped her shoulder, trying to hold in laughter. "The Queen is so wasted," he giggled. "She just called the King a whore and then she and the Duchess started perving on the Prince––"

Rosemund, who'd thankfully just emptied her last plate, covered his mouth and then hers. It was true. She didn't want either of them to get caught laughing and killed. Even if their lives depended on it, though, it was hard. She almost wished she'd been close enough to hear it. Luckily they both stopped when the heir came to the platform to speak. Rosemund had heard these little speeches in the past and they were rarely worth listening to, but for some reason this one piqued her interest.

And then it disappointed her. She covered her mouth and yawned after briefly meeting Aire's eyes, and then moved with her nephew back to the kitchen to fetch more food for the diners. By now, it was about time for desert, and so she brought out a plate of eclairs and strawberries. Again she came to the Queen's table, mostly to memorize her face to better picture it in place of her next opponent.

Just One Bite II

Oh, no. Mattie hadn't even thought of Nick having family in there. The gunshots made her shiver and stop and stare into the entrance wanting to go anywhere but in there. She trailed behind him at a slower speed, fear making everything just a little blurred at the edges. And what were they going to do with his mother's body? Everything was getting to be so much, and his sister–– oh, god, his sister was infected, wasn't she?

It was getting dark out. She had no time to panic in the entrance of a Wal-Mart in the dark. Gulping, she followed Nick inside and turned sharply toward the women's clothing section. She changed out all her clothes and, feeling much more comfortable now, she sat on the floor and splashed some water on her face and hands. Now she felt a little bit cleaner. ...A little bit.

She came back to Nick and his sister. With her possibly infected, she felt a strong need to keep watch. She looked to Nick. "Hey, um, thanks... for letting me stay here and stuff. I think you should get some rest and I'll guard us. You never know if the pricks out there will try and get in for some cheap deals." The reality was that she didn't want Nick to have to kill his sister if she became a zombie. She was also aware that he'd just lost his mother.

The Kingdom of Sayyar

With enough effort to fell an elephant, Rosemund let the Queen's remarks drop from her mind. After all, she doubted that the Queen herself even remembered; she was probably so constantly making jabs at people that it was hard to keep track of them all. Thankfully, some other servants had stepped in and gutted the other turkeys. Even though not all of the servants knew each other or got along, the kitchen was a kind of place of truce; the heat from the stoves was enough to make anyone faint and everybody knew that. Therefore, to prevent drama or trouble (or at least keep it at a minimum), the slaves and servants employed limited teamwork here, letting the most exhausted among themselves sit down and fan themselves for two minutes at most, and covering for them if anyone came to check on them.

Rosemund tried her best to avoid the responsibility of going out and serving food, but alas, her turn came and she had no excuse prepared. Fearing that she would come out and sock her Queen in the jaw, she borrowed a fellow servant (her nephew's!) hat to cover her hair–– she couldn't help being self-conscious–– and headed out into the dining hall. As much as she feared the snottiness of all the royals rubbing off on her, it was at least cooler than in the kitchen, and with efficiency she went from table to table to set out heaping, heavy plates of food. Each one set at a table meant less weight on her arms, and in that way she was able to keep a positive mind.

She deposited the tray with the turkey and several other extravagant dishes with a flourish at the table of the Queen and her son. She didn't look at him, but she didn't feel completely hateful of him: he had, after all, said sorry, and that was more than what most of these sickeningly- and undeservingly- rich folks had done for Rosemund. She didn't look at the Queen either, mostly for fear, but she managed to speak. "Your adoringly-prepared dinner, Your Beloved Majesty," she said with an exaggerated and dramatic tone. Hey, she'd been worn a little short, and the Queen was probably a bit too dumb to detect any satire at all.

In any case, she had returned to the kitchen before the Queen could respond, and was piling smaller dishes onto her arms to go offer the small treats to impatient royalty.

Just One Bite II

Mattie nodded as she sheathed the knife. She was so glad he'd suggested going back; she wasn't sure anymore if she could make it to the hardware and convenience stores. What had seemed so close earlier now seemed like another country away. "Alright," she said, sounding out of breath which she hated. "Alright. Let's get going, no good if we're not there by dark." She started walking and knotted her eyebrows. Wherever Nick went in the store, she made a mental note to herself to go the opposite way. She was unclean. She was dangerous.

But it had been pretty comforting to be held.

She walked along in silence, chewing her lip. Admitting one's feelings was admitting one's weakness.

The Kingdom of Sayyar

Just as Rosemund was about to respond to Aire's snapped response with more sarcasm, she heard footsteps and straightened up more than what looked possible. It didn't seem like he'd noticed the Queen's approach, but she could hear it from a mile away and it made her blood run cold. As a servant, she was well aware of Her Highness's reputation, and she was not about to risk her head by being insolent in front of her. When she entered, she averted her eyes and pointed her head at the floor, barely able to control her own trembling. She'd had nightmares of being executed because she had been unable to keep her mouth shut.

She was having trouble keeping her mouth shut right now, especially. Her face went from a scared pale to an angry red in a matter of moments, and she bit her lip to keep from being smart. It isn't worth it, she told herself. It isn't worth it. She isn't worth it. She took some pride in her hair. It wasn't beautiful, no, but it wasn't horrible either. At least, that was how she saw it. And what was she supposed to do? Hair never looked that great in a net! Did she want to see fiery-red strands in dinner? But thankfully, Rosemund managed to keep quiet.

As the Queen turned to leave, she carefully raised her gaze again, looking briefly at Aire. Any respect she'd gained had evaporated; there was no sarcasm, no defiance now, just anger. She turned away again and went back to peeling the potatoes. This time it was with quick furious strokes. She nicked a finger and acknowledged it only by wiping the cut on her apron. Damn royals. Damn inbred royals, she thought furiously.

Just One Bite II

She couldn't hide her relief in the prospect of leaving this horrible place; she let out a deep breath. She didn't need to be dragged, and she hurried as much as he did to get out of the restaurant. It was more than a little of a relief to be outside again, even if she was exhausted, hungry, thirsty and scared. And she could still smell the sickening rotting scent of blood on her clothes, making her shiver just a tiny bit. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to put Nick in danger.

They were outside now, and Mattie didn't know what to do. Keep looting whatever buildings they could find? Seek shelter? Try to find new clothes because she'd lost it? Now that would be awkward. But, she thought, looking sideways at Nick, maybe it wouldn't be a terrible way to spend her last moments.

Wait. What?

She cleared her throat, knelt down and wiped her bloody knife on the ground.

The Kingdom of Sayyar

Her potato-peeling slowed down and stopped; it didn't seem like he was going away. At least he was being nice, and well, it wasn't like he was unattractive. Even if he was inbred. Even so, she was getting nervous. Speaking informally to someone so highly ranked could have its risks. Like attachment. Not that she could get attached to this complete dork.

She stood silently through his awkwardness and felt a quiet sense of victory, a sort of "take that!", but showed none of it, instead adjusting her hair net and waiting for the prince to finish. "Ah, but of course," she said, feeling facetious again. "T'would be truly terrible if I were to be too ill to give my skills to the glorious kingdom. Another mere servant could take my small place, of course..."

Her eyes gave a small defiant glitter. If the servants were gone the castle would fall into disrepair, and of course, it was because those at the top were too lazy to take care of anything on their own.

Just One Bite II

To say the least, Mattie was surprised that Nick didn't move on without her. No, in fact, he seemed concerned. Why? she wondered. Why did he care about her? And why did she care about him? she thought, increasingly aggravated by her own feelings and the fact that it was so hard to decipher them. Right now––his expression––there was something about his face that she could absolutely swear she'd seen before!

And that wasn't even the worst part. She did have blood everywhere. Now that the detached rage was fading, panic was replacing it. She couldn't become one of those mindless whatever-they-weres. She looked down at her shirt and shuddered.

"We can check the place for food first. Just... don't let me touch anything." She strengthened her grip on the knife and gave a stiff nod. "I'm fine for now. But keep the machete handy."

The Kingdom of Sayyar

One dark-red eyebrow went up inquisitively; clearly Rosemund was surprised by the apology. She pursed her lips, unsure how to respond, but also glad that he'd said sorry. Unless it was a cruel joke, which of course was always a possibility. There was a reason that almost no one on Earth knew that her mother was a prostitute, for one thing, and she was sure that any respect Aire might have had for her (hah!) would vanish if he knew.

She nodded curtly. "There is no need to apologize, Your Highness," she said, shortly; she truly wanted to accept the apology but she knew that doing so would mean publicly recognizing royalty as having faults. It would be fine if anyone else did so, but a servant risked being laid off. "I am feeling perfectly well. Thank you very much."

And with that, she got to peeling potatoes. She assumed that he'd be leaving, and if he didn't she would just have to suck it up and act like he didn't bother her at all. Preparing food took too much energy to also devote some to being a sarcastic ass.

Just One Bite II

It had all happened so fast. There was a flash of irritation as Nick held her back––as if she couldn't take care of herself!––that melted away at the sound of rattling. Her instincts screamed at her to fight like a cornered animal (which she was), to run and run and never look back, to grab Nick and toss him over her shoulder and get the hell away from this God-forsaken hellhole. She was quiet until it happened, and then she didn't hear herself. It was as if her consciousness were watching everything unfold from afar.

"Idiot!" someone screamed, and it was her. The next thing she knew she was straddling the heap of rotting flesh that threatened Nick, pulling it by greasy tangled hair off of the man, wrestling the thing to the ground. Her mouth was open in a scream, half fear and half fury, her knuckles ivory as she drove her knife over and over into the soft, rotting skin, smashing dead ribs, making an absolute mess of black-red, foul-smelling blood that was thick with decay. Up, up she went, obliterating what was once a carotid artery, her knife making splatters that stained her clothes, and she just didn't care if the infection spread to her. For the moment.

She was back in the present now, breathing hard. She didn't know what on earth had gotten into her. Somehow she'd severed the thing's head, and now her grip on the knife was so weak it nearly slid out of her fingers. She looked to Nick and stood up. He must really want to get the hell away from her now, because if that wasn't completely insane of her than nothing was. Plus she'd taken no care to avoid the bodily fluids. She could be incubating the virus right now.

"Well," she said, shakily. "I suppose we should move on."