#mari001

fruitless. it was all just -

the thoughts chased each other like rabbits, gnawing their way through their brain, endless cycles of him her there here why because no yes. the lack of answers frustrating -

then again, everything in wonderland was false, twisted truths layered upon each other to tear away innocence before it ever gets a chance to blossom.

children were the worst for it, torn from homes, families, or never allowed to know them in the first place. (those that do have them, there’s always some darkness lingering, else they wouldn’t be in wonderland)

they never got to be a child, but perhaps, somewhat, they can help others, little bits of clear light in the kaleidoscope of darkness that was ever present. so they head to the orphanage every now and then, stick to the shadows so they can never be traced, wear a face-mask and low hat, standard fashion, but who would expect the monster pax to be ladling out food and looking after children?

no pax, not here, not now. only sol, someone who emerges from nowhere to help out occasionally, but everyone knows to not dismiss, to not question a gift.

sol is here tonight, helping break up a fight, watching with tiredness as they went their respective ways.

[Timeline: 25th December 2017, Monday, 9:01 p.m., Batista Estate, Rio de Janeiro.]

@encxntxdx

The party with a big feast for the help prepared by the Batistas had been over but another party started right after that and soon the mansion was filled with people. Carlos wasn’t entirely enjoying himself but a little booze helped his spirits and now he was walking around, chatting, checking everyone around until he found someone that he thought would occupy his time for the moment. It was one of the Batista’s help - A very young brunette with a shapely ass and he thought how much fun Zé had with this particular maid...

And he then began to wonder if he minded his friend’s leftover? Carlos approached the unsuspecting maid and upon closer inspection, he decided he didn’t mind at all...

In a very fluent manner, Carlos started a conversation with the woman in Portuguese. “Can you refill my glass?” He stood close to the woman, eyes drifting to the other’s backside. “I ran out of drink,” he continued, not putting much thought to his words. What do these kind of people want really? A young rich man like him paying them mind is probably enough to make them jump for joy.

Despite the tale she weaves being one as old as time ( though with some choice variations, he didn't get a lot of sisters pleading a case ) he minds the details and commits it to memory. During it, his eyes even wander to her left hand, only to be crushed to see that there was no wedding band around it – not even a the paler tan line of one recently removed. He could make an exception for divorcées, but plain singles were decidedly not for him. 

He scribbles down the notepad he holds in hand, quite literally drawing some random shapeless lines to make himself look busier and more on it. Diego had never had a need for notes, he had a deceptively good memory, but discovered that clients found comfort in the act of note taking. "Hm, I see." He says at last once she's done, looking at his handy work: an animated cat with goggly eyes. The best he's done yet, if he's being honest. 

shiftermari

A wave of his hand. Oh he remembers the lady well. Though, he once had been ordered to be her slave, Mari was kind enough to accept him as a butler instead..To see her again , it was unexpected and a bit embarrassing  but not disliked.