Jocelin (uber rp)
Her dreams had only grown more vivid in the years since joining the Cult. Jocelin had incredibly strong visions (disbelievers would call them hallucinations) when she imbibed the nectar of the Sacred Fruit, but even without there was an element of terrifying realism to her sleeping hours. It was her misfortune that as morning came and Aldrakar rose and left to attend to his duties that one took hold.
The nightmare was a familiar one: she was a child again in the deep woods of Thysan, living on the family estate that she could only leave secretly, and that with her brother's help. The old, high walls were ruined and overgrown with green moss, an outward sign of the family's low standing. Ancient firs peeked over in all seasons, having in later generations been allowed to grow against the walls. Against the wall that banked the Draco River and prevented its waters from rising during floods stood the funerary grove: a hundred oaks or more, each planted over a member of the family who had passed, and each bearing a plaque with that individual's name and the years they'd lived. Those nearest the wall were the oldest, their names worn beyond recognition or long since rusted away. Young trees stood on the edges of the grove, their plaques proudly aligned with the overgrown paths that had seen no visitors in years. Time was that a caretaker had been dedicated to that grove; alas, the plaques no longer shined with regular cleaning, and the weeds choked the roots so that some stood dead or leaned against their fellows, dying.
The grounds nearest the ancient, outdated home of the le Drakes were clean by comparison. A large cooking garden stood at the back of the house, maintained by a meticulous cook with a harsh tongue and ready sweets. His two daughters took care of the spit and the baking respectively, while his son kept the kennels. An older boy had once helped with the horses; he'd gone adventuring across the river though. Most people considered him dead: the Zuma lands stretched endlessly beyond, and a man who didn't die on their land must surely wish that he had.
The traditional home of the le Drakes was rectangular, with an inner court kept neat and bland by the lone groundskeeper. A dry fountain stood to one end, its marble angels clean but weather-worn. A small pond stood on the other, unfathomably deep but empty save for a single old catfish. Jocelin had seen it once, and her dream was of that fateful day. The sisters from the kitchens had saved some breadcrumbs for it, and for once they'd taken her on one of their adventures around the grounds. On a day when her mother should have been in Aveston they crowded onto the dilapidated bridge and laid on their bellies, even the noble girl in her pretty linens. They leaned out only as far as they dared, for Erik (their brother, the boy who stunk like the dogs he cared for) had sworn it was big enough to swallow them up. The sisters sprinkled their crumbs onto the dark surface and waited; Jocelin, who'd saved a bit of her breakfast upon hearing of this adventure, waited until the crumbs had begun to sink and disappear into the depths before she offered a larger piece.
"There it is," One of the sisters whispered, while the other whimpered in fear. Beside them Jocelin frowned; she couldn't see it, could only see the log that surely must rest on the bottom--
The log opened a pink-lined mouth as wide as her shoulders, sucking in the offering that had begun to sink. Without seeming to move it rose from the depths, its outline growing clearer until a catfish longer than Jocelin waited a hand's breadth below the surface. Its great tail moved slowly from side to side, and its pumping gills revealed fleshly pink underneath. It waited placidly beneath them, watching. The older sister giggled nervously, "Feed it!"
Jocelin shook her head, holding the last of her breakfast roll to her chest. The older girl looked irritated, "Do it, or you don't get to play with us no more." Her sister sat up on her elbows and nodded solemnly. "No more adventures!"
"No more?" The sisters were mean to her in ways that only girls could be, but they were the closest things to friends she had outside of the brother she idolized. And he'd been spending more and more time away from the estate. Time was that he'd sneak her out and show her his secret spots in the woods. Now...
The young noble steeled herself and threw another piece over the edge. The catfish considered it for a moment and then sucked up the offering. From somewhere nearby a throaty giggled echoed in the elongated courtyard. "Feed it by hand." Jocelin stiffened, clutching the last bit of bread tightly to her. The sisters greeted the newcomer warmly, unimpeded by rank as they were in the younger girl's case. Though the red-headed teen that sauntered from the shadows was only three years her senior she'd already begun to grow into her womanhood. Her breasts were creamy and a touch too large for her second-hand dress, and her hips swung in such a way as to both imply a noble heritage and shun it completely. Golden eyes marked her for a le Drake, but neither Jocelin's father nor her mother had hair so red as that. That came from her real mother.
Jocelin's bastard sister.
"Do it." Rue stared her little sister down, sucking the fun out of the atmosphere and replacing it with dread. Jocelin bit her lip: if the kitchen girls could be mean, than Rue could be exceptionally cruel. Their threats were always forgotten after a time; Rue's could remain dormant for months, and the sisters always listened to her. In a way she was in charge, not the young noble whose birthright it was to command the people of the house. Like the house amongst the ruins, her ancient blood meant nothing to anyone.
The catfish waited.
Jocelin dipped her hand in, opening it to show the fish the offering. Long minutes passed in which the four girls remained absolutely still, waiting. Not a breath was drawn as it inched closer...
"Jocelin!"
A sharp voice cut through the silence like a knife. Across the courtyard a tall, blonde figure strode toward them, her skirts gathered in her hands. Her mother didn't see what they were doing in the water, only that her daughter was soaking her sleeve and dirtying a dress she'd spent weeks on. The sisters scrambled to their feet; behind her Rue cursed and slunk away, unwilling to face the woman whose wrath she feared like no other. Jocelin also tried to stand, but a sharp pain in her hand made her cry out. The water churned as the great fish clamped down like a vise with raspy pads and pulled, threatening to pull her over the bridge and into the dark water. Beside her the younger sister screamed, her thudding footfalls marking her escape from the beast below. To the older one's credit she grabbed on and tried pulling the noble girl from the catfish's grasp. But it wasn't until her mother arrived and stomped on the thing's head with her fashionable shoes that it released her. Together she and the kitchen girl hauled Jocelin back to the shore.
"We tried stoppin' her! She tried to feed it, M'lady, honest!--"
Jocelin's mother slapped her, eyes blazing with fury. It was then that the groundskeeper arrived, and the furious noblewoman thrust an accusing finger at the kitchen girl's chest. "Take her to the kennels and beat her for making my girl do this!" She shot a suspicious look to either side for the child she thought truly responsible, but Rue had long since learned to make herself scarce when Lady le Drake was near. So she satisfied herself with the punishment of another in her place, and by the look the girl threw at her Jocelin knew she'd receive the blame. She started crying, half because she was scared and hurt because of the thing in the water and half because she knew things were going to get a lot worse for her around the others. Her mother mistook her sobs for the first alone and whispered sweet nothings into her hair. "Shh, shh, you're safe now. My miracle is safe." The possessiveness in her tone spoke greatly of their relationship. Before Jocelin had been born her mother had been thought barren. Melot's --her older brother's-- birth had nearly killed the golden lady, which is why her husband had sought comfort in the arms of another. Jocelin's birth had not only given them an alternative to their wandering, disinterested heir, but had erased the stain of Rue's birth and (in their eyes) repaired their marriage. And given their crushed hopes for their son, the future of the family now rested squarely on their daughter's shoulders.
Lady Le Drake was an impatient woman. After too short a time the gentle rocking and stroking stopped, "Really, Jocelin: you're making a scene. Nobles do not bleat like common slobs." Yet her daughter continued to whimper.
And here is where memory morphed into nightmare. After the incident by the pond Jocelin had been brought to her room. For weeks she screamed in her sleep that the monster was coming to eat her. She avoided any body of water larger than her and eventually had to be forced to take a bath when her stink became too great. The sisters in the kitchen had disliked her before; after the eldest's beating they would hiss under her breath when she was near and pinch and twist her skin if they could get away with it. Rue continued to harass her like an alleycat does a domestic pet, emboldened by the other girls' obvious disdain. Her mother, bless her heart, actually noticed and kept Jocelin by her side at all times. That was how it had happened then: in this dream, however, her hand remained clamped inside the beast's mouth. Its bony jaw was flat and raspy like sandpaper, scraping away her skin and clouding the water with blood. Her shoulder strained as she fought to get free; she screamed for help, but in a nightmare no one comes. Eventually it pulled her in and began to sink back down, unhurried and unimpeded by its struggling prey. Her lungs burned and her body hurt with the growing weight of the water around her. They sunk for ages into the murky darkness... and as terrified as she was it wasn't the pain or the predator alone. It was the inevitably, the fact that no matter what she did there was no escape, and that everything would end for her in those deep, dark waters.
Her breath gave out. Bubbles erupted around her face; icy water invaded her airways--
And then she woke up, her nose and mouth smothered by a soft cushion as she lay face down. Jocelin scrambled into an upright sitting position, shaking and slick with terror sweat. A whimper like a small, wounded animal escaped her, and even weak with fear she managed to drag a pillow to her chest. She clung to it like a shipwrecked sailor to flotsam as she rode the panic to its inevitable end. The tears that followed were welcome, for she'd woken up too many times like that not to know that they were tears of relief.
It wasn't until they'd ended that Jocelin remembered where she was and why. Her impulse was to look for Aldrakar; it seemed, however, that he'd already woken. Golden eyes lingered on the spot he'd occupied the night before, her expression inscrutable.
Noise in the hallway. A servant entered with the intention of cleaning and paused on the threshold; they curtsied and mumbled a polite apology, clearly having expected the room to be empty. Jocelin ignored her and put the pillow down, her actions fluid with practice though her limbs still shook. There must have been some hint of her night terrors in her face still, for the maid asked if her ladyship was alright. She was ignored until Jocelin had invented a suitable excuse. Her chin lifted arrogantly, and her tone was lofty with an aristocrat's disdain.
"This pillow was dusty underneath; I seem to have gotten some into my eyes. Fetch a bowl of warm water to my room and see this one is cleaned. Thoroughly."
Affirmation. The maid disappeared to do as she had been told. Jocelin encountered no one in the hall of the family wing and managed to slip into her room unseen. She washed with a towel and a steaming bowl of water and dressed for the day, every action as laborious as if she'd aged forty years. Before she left her room Jocelin stood before a floor-length mirror and hid her face in her hands, gathering herself as she'd once caught her mother doing. When she finally looked up again every sign of the nightmare was gone, replaced by the gentle and disciplined smile of a noblewoman bred.
She left her room at an unhurried pace, the sun outside the windows very much past the noon hour.
