#harrowing time

She is notified only the night before. much less time to prepare than the last time. This time, there’s a physical invitation, and not just the words from his mouth. It’s more official this way, she won’t have to deal with the guards. Offhandedly, she hopes he did not hear of what had transpired between them and her. She wouldn’t want them to have been punished for it. So little time means no hand-making an entire outfit. She takes an older one and improves upon it for the occasion. It is one very out of style, left by the previous owners of the estate. It’s not dark, like the colors she likes to wear. It’s a pale cream color, drapey and made of lace. She rustles around in the attic and finds some old jewelry too. She breaks the necklaces in her hands, and sews the black pearls into the dress. When on, the pattern is clear: lots of cobwebs draped all over.

In the night, the deliverer comes. He helps her into a carriage. She recognizes the horse. It’s Pierre. The one who misbehaves. He wasn’t happy the last time she’d walked there. Much too dangerous for a lady, she guessed...not that she was of any particular social standing. What a fright a robber would have when she pulled back her cloak. Every time since, he’d sent carriages to bring her to his home. He was always there, to help her out of the carriage and avoid any wing tangles. Always with his cold claws, outstretched.

The travel time is much quicker in carriage. She’s grateful to save her shoes. The streets were wet from yesterday’s rain, and she didn’t want to ruin his most-likely-irreplaceable carpets. 

She’s led into the courtyard, which is, yet again, swarming with people she doesn’t recognize. But, unlike last time, he isn’t here to greet her. It’s strange. Out of character. The footman doesn’t know what to do with her wings, when she tries to dip them under the overhang of the carriage. She only gets stuck temporarily, and she flushes in distress. Is he sick? Why throw a party if he’s ill? She reaches back into the carriage for a black box, tied with a violet ribbon. On her last visit, he’d mentioned wanting to try something new, something he hadn’t had before from her bakery. So she’d tried he hand at a new recipe she’d gathered from mortals. Something called a Cheesecake. She got a few wayward glances as she walked through the crowd, carrying the box in her hands. Yet again, they were obscured with gloves...ivory, to match her gown. Eyes scan all over. She doesn’t see his shock of white hair or crimson eyes anywhere. She does notice, however, that a good number of his servants seem to be missing. There is a very scant number of people holding platters compared to his last soiree. She eyes a servant placing an empty tray on a table, and slipping out of the side of the courtyard. Abandoning his post? Also strange.

Morgana bustles past the people, keeping her wings pressed tight to her back to avoid knocking anyone over. This party is no less intimate than the last...in fact is seems even busier. Must be the season. She sees people in the crowd she recognizes: Lady LeBlanc. Lady Zaavan. Generals she knows by face, but not by name. She ignores them, and continues on her way, not wanting to answer any questions.

Like last time, the gardens are quieter. Nearly devoid of any guests. The entrance to the hedge maze is decorated with candles inside of carved pumpkins. There are no jack-o-lanterns here...only excellently carved pieces of art. Her eyes catch the servant walking quickly away from her. He hadn’t noticed her, but still had a clipping gait. She followed suit, and soon saw that most servants seemed to be buzzing around one of the gazebos. Some coming, some going, like a hive of bees.