05-29-2022, 09:38 PM
Chéri had been in another bed, a new one, where they had slept and woken alone. Chéri had been in a new house, where they had talked and pleaded, but something had gone wrong and they were back here. They just hadn’t found a place for themselves yet. It wasn’t the first time, nor the second, but they had hoped there wouldn’t be a next time. The dread they felt was small and pinching, similar to a slightly too small shoe. With habit, one could easily forget about it, but it was different from actual comfort. One ought to keep the dread somewhere in the back of their head, constantly.
Chéri did not have a clear plan for the day, so they put on their pale blu suit, groomed themselves neatly rather than fashionably and reached for the kitchen. They felt comfortable there: servants always had been closer to them than the masters, despite popular belief. They understood their difficulties and their wishes, they understood how they lived and why they made the choices they made, so this felt like a good place to go to. Chéri entered the kitchen and saw Pippa shudder. They smiled slightly and put down their foot more audibly. They mostly walked like a cat, silent, graceful, so light they were pretty much inaudible.
They enjoyed that sort of virtual invisibility, but it really crept people out, so they made an effort not to do that in this context. They needed all the sympathy they could get and Pippa was one of the few people who had showed them nothing but patience and respect and for that Chéri was grateful.
“Hello. May I stay here a little with you? We don’t have to talk, if you don’t want. I can sing for you, if you want some company but don’t feel like talking yourself,” when they could speak french it was easier. In general, it was easier when someone could see them a little less like “the odd foreigner”. And they knew that probably Pippa would still look down at their lovely suit and maybe even secretly wrinkle her nose in noticing how femme they could be, but at least they could talk about… normal things. They missed that.
Chéri did not have a clear plan for the day, so they put on their pale blu suit, groomed themselves neatly rather than fashionably and reached for the kitchen. They felt comfortable there: servants always had been closer to them than the masters, despite popular belief. They understood their difficulties and their wishes, they understood how they lived and why they made the choices they made, so this felt like a good place to go to. Chéri entered the kitchen and saw Pippa shudder. They smiled slightly and put down their foot more audibly. They mostly walked like a cat, silent, graceful, so light they were pretty much inaudible.
They enjoyed that sort of virtual invisibility, but it really crept people out, so they made an effort not to do that in this context. They needed all the sympathy they could get and Pippa was one of the few people who had showed them nothing but patience and respect and for that Chéri was grateful.
“Hello. May I stay here a little with you? We don’t have to talk, if you don’t want. I can sing for you, if you want some company but don’t feel like talking yourself,” when they could speak french it was easier. In general, it was easier when someone could see them a little less like “the odd foreigner”. And they knew that probably Pippa would still look down at their lovely suit and maybe even secretly wrinkle her nose in noticing how femme they could be, but at least they could talk about… normal things. They missed that.
