☼ RUTH OF HOUSE IESHAN ☼רות
"MOTHER SAYS THERE ARE LOCKED ROOMS INSIDE ALL WOMEN--"
"MOTHER SAYS THERE ARE LOCKED ROOMS INSIDE ALL WOMEN--"
Oh, this is trouble. This is certainly trouble.
When I told Ishak about it, he laughed (in a way that would make anyone a bit cross – even me, and I am hard to trouble), and he told me that he had other things to worry about. I suspect that this is his way of telling me that he is still upset at me for getting lost on the island. I can’t say that I blame him for his annoyance, but I can say that I blame him, firmly, for his apathy.
I slip through the gathered crowds, sidestepping stumbling drunks and overeager dancers. I am small, and not especially striking, and I have always been easily overlooked - I have to be the one to keep an eye out, host or otherwise, lest I will find myself crushed beneath the hooves of some far larger brute. Normally, Ishak would be at my side, but he has been ignoring me for much of the evening. I haven’t caught sight of him in hours – I suspect that he is chasing after some pointless lead, or sneaking around where he doesn’t belong.
As long he doesn’t get caught, it is of little interest to me. If he were to get caught-
(I am no longer sure what I would do about it.)
I pace down the first floor, halting, finally, in the hall of statues.
If the stories are to be believed (and I will refrain from saying whether or not I believe them), I – and all of my siblings – are as a good as living statues, too. I suspect that Pilate’s choice of entertainment is in reference to that. Any opportunity to add to our mystique, our illusion of unearthliness.
I find the hall unnerving. Unnatural. (Among my siblings, I think that I am the most accustomed to what it means to be composed of bone and sinew, muscle and fat; I spend my days intimately acquainted with spilled blood and guts.)
Somewhere, down the hall, I make out the pale-gold shape of my brother, nearly a statue himself. I dare not look at him too closely. I don’t find the sight of him horrifying (I am too used to illness to be startled by it), or even especially depressing; there is some lingering, professional awareness, in the back of my mind, that my brother is dying. It should be devastating, but I don’t feel devastated.
At most, I think that I feel frustrated, and, even then, I am frustrated more by the way his illness injures my pride than I am by the pervasiveness of his condition.
But – I shake off thoughts of Adonai, and then all the rest of my siblings. They are all quite preoccupied; most of them have set up little events around the mansion. I’m sure that I should have done something (there are obligations that come with my family name), but I thought that it would be enough to keep an eye on the health of the partygoers.
That has already come back to bite me, but I digress. I weave nervously between the servants, slipping a bit too close to the backdoors and pieces of art to be mistaken for a simple guest – or one of my more rambunctious siblings. There is a hurried tremor to my steps, however, a certain urgency where I am normally unhurried; oh, this is trouble, and I’m not at all sure what to do about it. A few of the maids eye me, their expressions inquisitive, but I grit my jaw and offer no answer to their stares. I am reluctant to disclose too much of this trouble to anyone outside of the family.
I move down the hall, searching the faces of each statue for signs of life. I know how gossipy they are; if anyone has rumors over what may have happened to that precious thing, it would be them.
Unfortunately, I didn’t bother to memorize them during the preparations. I’d hoped to avoid such spectacle entirely. My jaw gritted, I meander forward, brow creased in worried concentration; if I can’t find it, this will certainly be a fine mess to deal with -
but I have only just begun searching, and the night is still young. Surely, there is still plenty of time to find it.
open! || quick lil setup for the scavenger hunt <3 || warsan shire, "the house"
When I told Ishak about it, he laughed (in a way that would make anyone a bit cross – even me, and I am hard to trouble), and he told me that he had other things to worry about. I suspect that this is his way of telling me that he is still upset at me for getting lost on the island. I can’t say that I blame him for his annoyance, but I can say that I blame him, firmly, for his apathy.
I slip through the gathered crowds, sidestepping stumbling drunks and overeager dancers. I am small, and not especially striking, and I have always been easily overlooked - I have to be the one to keep an eye out, host or otherwise, lest I will find myself crushed beneath the hooves of some far larger brute. Normally, Ishak would be at my side, but he has been ignoring me for much of the evening. I haven’t caught sight of him in hours – I suspect that he is chasing after some pointless lead, or sneaking around where he doesn’t belong.
As long he doesn’t get caught, it is of little interest to me. If he were to get caught-
(I am no longer sure what I would do about it.)
I pace down the first floor, halting, finally, in the hall of statues.
If the stories are to be believed (and I will refrain from saying whether or not I believe them), I – and all of my siblings – are as a good as living statues, too. I suspect that Pilate’s choice of entertainment is in reference to that. Any opportunity to add to our mystique, our illusion of unearthliness.
I find the hall unnerving. Unnatural. (Among my siblings, I think that I am the most accustomed to what it means to be composed of bone and sinew, muscle and fat; I spend my days intimately acquainted with spilled blood and guts.)
Somewhere, down the hall, I make out the pale-gold shape of my brother, nearly a statue himself. I dare not look at him too closely. I don’t find the sight of him horrifying (I am too used to illness to be startled by it), or even especially depressing; there is some lingering, professional awareness, in the back of my mind, that my brother is dying. It should be devastating, but I don’t feel devastated.
At most, I think that I feel frustrated, and, even then, I am frustrated more by the way his illness injures my pride than I am by the pervasiveness of his condition.
But – I shake off thoughts of Adonai, and then all the rest of my siblings. They are all quite preoccupied; most of them have set up little events around the mansion. I’m sure that I should have done something (there are obligations that come with my family name), but I thought that it would be enough to keep an eye on the health of the partygoers.
That has already come back to bite me, but I digress. I weave nervously between the servants, slipping a bit too close to the backdoors and pieces of art to be mistaken for a simple guest – or one of my more rambunctious siblings. There is a hurried tremor to my steps, however, a certain urgency where I am normally unhurried; oh, this is trouble, and I’m not at all sure what to do about it. A few of the maids eye me, their expressions inquisitive, but I grit my jaw and offer no answer to their stares. I am reluctant to disclose too much of this trouble to anyone outside of the family.
I move down the hall, searching the faces of each statue for signs of life. I know how gossipy they are; if anyone has rumors over what may have happened to that precious thing, it would be them.
Unfortunately, I didn’t bother to memorize them during the preparations. I’d hoped to avoid such spectacle entirely. My jaw gritted, I meander forward, brow creased in worried concentration; if I can’t find it, this will certainly be a fine mess to deal with -
but I have only just begun searching, and the night is still young. Surely, there is still plenty of time to find it.
open! || quick lil setup for the scavenger hunt <3 || warsan shire, "the house"
HE FEEDS ME RED MEAT / HE WATCHES THE BLOOD POOL IN MY MOUTHlaughs at my red teeth❂please tag Ruth! contact is encouraged, short of violence
