Work Text:
Sleepless nights were not unfamiliar to Ivory. Her life felt like one long sleepless night, sometimes; muddy, quiet, unfocused. Wondering if dawn will ever come.
This night was no different. She felt rather than heard Serapter leave the room, and gave herself a few long minutes to try and fall asleep, before relenting and following him up to the roof.
The crickets were keening when she emerged into the cold air. She made her way down the shingles, gilded in waxing moonlight. Across the grounds, the forest was reduced to a singular large, impenetrable entity, surging and whispering words she didn’t catch. Farther down, Serapter was seated close to the edge, legs pulled up to his chest, his face raised to the stars. The night air bit against Ivory’s bare arms as she lowered herself beside her friend, the fabric of her nightgown sliding against her legs.
He glanced at her, pleasantly surprised. “Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were up.”
“Sorry, did you want to be alone?” she asked.
“No, no. I could use the company.” He rested his chin on his knee, tilting his head. “Couldn’t sleep either?”
She shook her head. The breeze blew her bangs away from her face and ran cold fingers over the shiny red skin on her right arm. She hugged her arms to her chest without thinking.
“You can go back in if you’re cold. It’s pretty chilly,” Serapter said offhandedly, but the fiddle of his hands betrayed him. She had noticed that, with him; always conscious of his company’s comfort level, always ready to sacrifice his.
“It’s okay. I’ll keep you company.” This earned her a glowing smile that squished up his eyes. She’d noticed that, too; the full force of his smile could illuminate all of Emberton. It might’ve been a large factor for why Clown didn’t berate him much; not only was he a diligent maid, but when he grinned at you, all lopsided, like you personally just made his day, it made you want to see it more.
She lowered her eyes, disconcerted by the unfamiliar experience of being smiled at so easily. Most people, upon seeing her face, did not smile. They frowned or their brows lowered, stare latching onto the red flesh surrounding her blind eye. Or they were angry, violence written into their expression. She curled into herself tighter, and regretted it when Serapter seemed to notice.
“They make our sleepwear so thin. We should all riot for thicker clothes in the winter,” he remarked, sounding cross. He just thought she was cold.
“I don’t think they expected servants to be out this late at night, though,” she said. “Especially not on the roof.”
“Oh, you’re right,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Far as I know, we’re the only maids that do this. But that just means we’re on top.”
Ivory let a smile touch her lips. “Yes. I like it up here.” Solitude. But truly, anywhere in the labyrinth that was Whitepine Manor could be considered solitude. Anyone would be lucky to glimpse the elegant architecture, the cavernous rooms, ceilings so high the corners were in shadow. Wealthy and beautiful. Aged, stifling. No, she much preferred catching the scent of flowers in the wind, the organic sway of nature. Up here was perfect.
The chirruping of crickets filled the space between them. Night wind breathed through the trees, and they called to her in hushed voices, murmuring. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend that she was seated in the middle of the forest. Cool rock cradling her, the breeze making the branches sing in a low E minor. Here, she was safe. Here, no one could hurt her.
“Ivory.”
She opened her eyes at the whisper. Serapter was looking at her. “Oh,” he said regularly. “Just checking that you didn’t fall asleep.”
“I don’t think I could sleep sitting up,” she responds. He shrugged.
“I wouldn’t know, maybe you trained yourself to. You’re an Ivory of many secrets.” His tone was humorous, but his face fell at his words. He picked a piece of lint off his pajamas glumly.
Oh, Ivory thought. Was he sad because of her? “I don’t mean to be,” she said. It hurt to think that Serapter thought she was keeping things from him. There was not much to tell, and what did remain unknown should stay unknown. Not even Ivory herself pulled those memories out.
“I know. It’s okay.” It didn’t feel okay. She stared at her hands for a moment, wanting to say something.
“I can’t swim,” she blurted. He looked at her. “I-I never learned how.” She knew it wasn’t an uncommon trait, especially this far inland, but Serapter deserved at least some truth from her.
To her relief, he snorted. “Don’t worry, I know tons of people who can’t swim. Plus, the ocean always gave me the heebie-jeebies. You’re better off on land.”
“You're scared of the ocean?”
He shrugged. “Not really scared, but like, no one really knows anything about it. There are so many creatures, and we don’t even know what’s in the deepest parts. I’ve never been a fan of it.”
Ivory nodded. She could understand that. The ocean wasn’t something she was drawn to either. It didn’t have a pull on her, unlike foliage or forests. It made her wonder what had a pull on Serapter.
“I think that means it’s your turn,” she said. “Tell me something about you.”
“What!? Was my oceanphobia not good enough for you?”
“I don’t think that’s what it’s called,” she pointed out. “But, um, you don't have to if you don't want to.”
“Nah, it's fine, I'm just messing.” He pressed his fingers to his cheek, mulling it over. He lifted his face to look straight upwards, searchingly. “Well, d’you know what constellation that is?” he asked, pointing at a cluster of larger, bright dots. Ivory tilted her head back to scrutinize it.
“No,” she said. She didn't know anything about stars.
“It’s called Ursa Minor. See that big one at the end? It’s Polaris, and people use it to navigate because it doesn’t move. Or at least, it doesn’t appear to.”
Ivory thought it was beautiful. The natural world never ceased to floor her. “That’s amazing. You know so much.”
“I’ve always loved astronomy,” he confessed. “The stars speak, if you know how to listen. But I’ve never taken a class.” He looked down, shoulders hunched. “One of my only regrets.”
Ivory was surprised. That explained him craning his head to the heavens at every opportunity. She didn’t even know there were classes taught about the stars. It made her wonder which institutions had enough resources to teach something so extraneous, especially after the war. Then she wondered if he had gone to school in Emberton, or somewhere farther. It struck her, very suddenly, that she knew barely anything about him. Other than where he grew up and his dead sister, he was as much of a mystery as her.
“You wanted to study the cosmos?” she asked.
“My whole life.”
“But you chose to be here?”
He turned and gave her a half-smile, rueful. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
Ivory blinked. For a brief, timeless moment, she didn’t see Serapter; only a boy with golden hair and an earnest tilt to his head, so young to be working at an old, cold mansion. The jarring realization made Ivory sick with unknown grief. How was it that Serapter, star-bright and kind beyond knowing, his whole future ahead of him, was made to rot in Whitepine?
But she blinked again and it passed, and the person in front of her was merely a servant.
He was peering at her worriedly. “You okay, Ivory? You look kinda sick.”
“Yes,” she said. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”
“Are you getting sleepy?” he asked, glancing upwards. The moon had long since passed the apex of the sky, and clouds were beginning to blot out the stars. “It’s pretty late.”
A brief pause. “I’m just tired.”
The truth was, Ivory was never tired; she was never energetic, either. She lived on a strange middle-ground, and days continued to move on around her or over her. She watched them leave and wondered when it would finally be the last one.
Serapter stood up beside her, and she started, glancing up. “C’mon, let’s go grab some sleep before tomorrow. Clown wanted us to clean out the second-floor closet, and we’ll need our strength.” He brushed off his pants absently, then turned to her, extending his arm.
Ivory took his hand and let him pull her up. On level footing, in this barely-there light, the moon softened his features immensely. His youth was unmistakable. She could not bear it. “Okay,” she whispered.
Later, under her blankets with only sleeping Serapter’s quiet, deep breathing from above to fill the silence, Ivory did not sleep. Instead, she thought of her life, spinning on an axis, crashing up against the Whitepine manor and being sucked into its orbit. And then of Serapter, willingly finding a path beside her, weaving and believing, even despite the murder. She wondered what his smile would sound like, turned into notes on a piano, chords in a song. Maybe like the moon placing her hands on the ocean, or prayers clinking up against the stars. I’ll figure out a composition, she promised herself. And I’ll play it for him. And that was where sleep took her.
⋆˙𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆
He never got to hear her song. That was what first graced her mind, in the moment.
Air wouldn’t enter her lungs. No, she thinks. Hard wooden floor slams against her knees, and she dimly registered that her legs couldn’t hold her up anymore.
The warmth of the liquid taunted her, soaking into her clothes, and she watched as if through a long tunnel as her hand reached out to turn the face to hers. His eyes were empty, and the skin around his ears was still hot. A pouring gash stretched from cheekbone to jaw, another hungry mouth. Ivory could not tell any of his facial features, just a mass of flesh, coated in blood.
The pain was worse than any wound she had ever suffered.
She was splintering, crumpled beside Serapter’s body, clutching his mask until the dull edges bit into her skin, her heart beating out of her throat as people rushed like birds and phantoms around them. Hands were grabbing at her, pulling at her, but she couldn’t see, think past his motionless chest, his blood.
Please, don’t make me bear this, she pleaded to any god that would listen. Let it be me instead of him. But Whitepine was godless.
She clung to the fabric of his shirt, hearing church bells ring for a second funeral. She sees Mysticat’s body, Serapter’s open eyes set into her face. The floor falls out from beneath her knees, slowly, and all there was and could ever be was the servant boy, glancing over his golden shoulder to give her a warm smile. She reached out, fingers outstretched to call his name, but her voice made no noise. His eyes flattened – a ghost of a smile — lovely, regretful, growing farther with every breath. And then, he was gone.