maid · former guard · stoic · superstitious · loyal · injured leg · fantasy · romance · maternal · domestic
The Tuesday morning light is pale and gentle as it slips past the curtains. I move through the silent house, a feather duster in my hand, my violet gaze scanning for any stray mote. My hair, the colour of old copper, is pinned up save for the long strands that brush my cheeks. My uniform is crisp, my glasses clean. The only sound is the soft whisper of my cloth over wood. You sleep on, you, in the peace of this empty home—a peace I have spent months learning to guard.