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His new maid prefers to spend her free time in the garden. Well, when she isn’t occupied by the piano.
Though Pyroscythe Hemlocke spends most of his time in his room or in the study, he can see the garden when passing between rooms and looking out a window. If Ivory isn’t by his side, she’s out there.
The vibrant garden colors often partially conceal her presence, her white hair blending into the petals of the tallest flowers. Pink eyes and white lashes poke out from between leaves like butterflies, fluttering once, twice, then gone. Her uniform is a bit long, covering her all the way down to her pale ankles, and the skirt flows as she gracefully walks on the stone paths.
She’s beautiful. He can’t deny it. But her beauty also came from her heart, which was genuine and kind, and her friendship meant the world to him.
It was nothing more.
Sometimes Ivory is accompanied in the garden by another servant, Serapter. They share quarters, apparently, and are close friends.
He’ll join her, trotting around the garden, a contrast to her graceful stride. His laughter and chatter reaches open windows and drifts in. His erratic and excitable nature is bold, brash, and confident. He is distinctly unwomanly.
But he’s beautiful as well- with a lean, smooth face, and blonde locks that are in perfect disarray, slicked back on his head, reaching down to right above his shoulders and curling around his neck. Even through that mask he wears, his red eyes instantly stand out, bright and sensitive, looking deep into everyone he sees-
Pyro shakes his head, ridding himself of that train of thought. Those surface level compulsive thoughts weren’t worth entertaining.
Things were different now, since he got outed. Before his siblings and father would tease him about girls he would speak to, even if he only acknowledged them in passing. Now they never talked about romance at all, as if it were something he didn’t understand.
He knows his siblings aren’t bothered by his sexuality. They just don’t wish to upset his father. And he knows his father doesn’t not love him. It’s just hard for him to understand.
But when his father took away his male assistant and replaced him with a woman, he couldn’t help but doubt. It was as if his father thought him to be incapable of self control, as if a male servant and him would become involved, as if Pyro wasn’t his son but instead some sexual deviant who couldn’t help but try to get with any man within his reach. When his father wouldn’t let the Duke stay in his room, as if Zolister would be in danger with a pervert like him around, these feelings became stronger.
It hurts to be treated like this. By his own father, nonetheless.
But Pyro has no right to say anything to his father. So until Zombie Hemlocke is dead, Pyro will try to be a good son. He will try to control his… urges.
Now he is standing idly by a window that peers out over the garden. He sent Ivory on her break, telling her that he was going to take a nap for an hour, and that she should come wake him then.
That was untrue, but not because he didn’t enjoy her presence. Quite the opposite, in fact. Pyro was in quite a gloomy mood today, and he didn’t want to make Ivory upset with his sulking. She was sensitive, and he would hate to make her feel as if she had done something wrong when it was his own internal conflict bringing him down.
He considered staying in his room for his ‘nap’, but was deterred by the atmosphere. He knew if he went into his bedroom in this mood, he wouldn’t want to come back out. So he tried to keep himself busy, wandering the halls and idly checking on his siblings.
He had walked into this hallway, past servants doing their work and dusting at each other's heels, to stand by this window. He had caught a glimpse of Ivory out there, and was watching her now. It felt odd, but she was peaceful to watch; she moved like a fish swimming downstream, graceful and smooth. For a while she was walking around the garden, but now she was sitting on the edge where the flowers are planted and the grass meets the stone. She’s running her fingers along the petals of a rose, carefully feeling the dips and bends. The girl looks at peace, face relaxed in contrast to the usual anxious expression she wears. Her eyes flutter shut.
Pyro watches her for a minute, studying the way the flowers perk up towards the sunlight. Before he knows it, he’s stepping away from the window and walking down the hall, down the stairs, through the doors, and out into the garden. Though he isn’t purposefully loud, he does walk as steadily as possible, making sure the clicks of his boots can be heard.
Ivory glances up as he approaches.
“Oh, Sir Pyro. My apologies, did I take too long of a break?” She structures the sentence gracefully, but knowing her, Pyro bets she’s panicking, fearing punishment for taking a long break.
He shakes his head no. “Not at all. Just wanted to join you, if that’s alright?” Ivory nods instantly.
“Of course Sir.”
Pyro gently sets himself down on the grass, despite the stone nearby, and crosses his legs. It’s a bit juvenile, but it’s comfortable.
After a moment of comfortable silence, he speaks. “Do you always spend your breaks in the garden?”
“No. Sometimes I play the piano. Or I try to draw.”
Pyro knew the piano thing, but not the drawing. He chooses to focus on the former. “Ah, that’s nice. I’m assuming the one in the basement?”
“Mhm.”
“Well, it’s good that someone’s using it.”
There’s another stretch of silence, as Pyro takes in the day. The grass feels nice against his skin, prickly yet soft at the same time. He had originally sent Ivory away so she wouldn’t have to experience his foul mood, but it ironically seemed that it was him who needed to get away from the mansion. Maybe the general feeling of being around his father combined with the recent tragedy had him all upset. Maybe this was what he needed.
Deep down he knew that wasn’t true- there was a constant uncomfortable feeling in the back of his mind, the tugging of loneliness at his heart, the pressure of a secret shared too soon weighing down on his psyche. A sit in the garden with a friend, no matter how pleasant, wasn’t going to fix what was bothering him.
He senses Ivory’s eyes on him, and turns to peek at her. She’s giving him a look that's almost normal for her, save the quirk in her brows. She appears more worried than usual, a dip in the skin indicating that her eyebrows are furrowed.
“Is something wrong?” Pyro asks.
Ivory startles. “N-no Sir. I’m sorry, I was just…” she trails off, staring at her legs.
Pyro smiles. “Listen, I know you work for me, but I still want you to be able to speak up if you want to. This goes both ways. Besides, you’ve heard me out many times- it would be a shame not to do the same for you.”
She seems relaxed by this, although still slightly wary. “Are you sure? I have a question to ask, and I- I don’t want to offend you. Or get anyone in trouble.”
“Oh?” Pyro raises a brow. “Is someone talking about me? Is it about how my beard is growing in? It is in a bit of a rough patch right now- oh, no pun intended.”
Ivory giggles, genuine and sweet, and the sound makes Pyro’s heart swell with fondness. He hasn’t heard that sound out of her before- hell, she hardly made a sound, even her breathing almost undetectable. She fiddles with her hands, looking at them shyly.
“Well, alright. Then allow me to ask, Sir, and tell me if I’m overstepping.”
“Go ahead.”
“Well, I overheard someone say something the other day. I’m unsure who it was, but they were talking about you- it was good! It was good t-things, but then they said something I didn’t… I didn’t quite get.” Ivory clicks her tongue.
“What was it? Maybe I know.” Pyro sits up fully.
“They said… they said you were a h- a homo- a homosexual?”
Pyro’s blood runs cold.
Ivory’s still speaking, rambling about pronunciation, but it all feels fuzzy and distant to Pyro. It’s like the world has stopped for only him, and everything around is still spinning. It feels similar to when his father found out, when he heard only distant yelling and felt his breathing growing sharper and sharper until he nearly passed out, until his heart felt like it was beating out his chest, trying to get out-
“Sir Pyro?” A hand resting on his arm brings him back. He snatches it back, upset by the contact.
“ Don’t-” He manages to get out, harsh and unforgiving. The rage and shame has gotten out, lashing around loosely and hitting all unfortunate enough to be near.
But when Pyro sees that it is poor Ivory that has been on the receiving end of his wrath, he feels instant regret. She shrinks back, eyes widening slightly in terror.
“I over-overste- I overstepped-” She whimpers. “Sorry. I’m sorry-”
“No, no wait,” Pyro takes a deep breath, composing himself. He was upset; unpleasant things were being brought up. But Ivory didn’t deserve to suffer just because he was angry. “I’m sorry. Ivory, I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry. I freaked out. I got overwhelmed. My apologies.”
Ivory relaxes a bit. Her eyes are still wide and fearful, and her posture is still defensive, sitting tucked into herself on the grass, but she doesn’t look like she’s going to run away.
“Don’t worry about it, Sir Pyro.” Ivory says. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No, it’s not- It’s not your fault.” Pyro deflates a bit, pulling his knees up to his chest. “What they said was true. I am a homosexual.”
Ivory gives a nod, but then tilts her head, seemingly confused.
“Oh, you really don’t know,” Pyro sighs. Ivory nods. Just his luck that not only would he have to come out, he would have to explain what he was coming out as. “Alright. A homosexual, in my case, is a man who likes other men.”
Ivory sits there.
“I am a man who likes other men.”
She gives yet another nod. “Alright, Sir.”
“That’s not good, Ivory.” Pyro makes an exasperated motion. “It’s just- it’s unfitting of a man in general, much less fitting to a man of my status. When my father found out, he- when everyone found out, it was chaos. I didn’t want to- I thought I could keep it from spreading to far. I hoped I could at least keep it from you.”
Ivory makes a sad expression. “Do you… do you not trust me, Sir Pyro?”
“No, I do! That’s why I tried to keep it from you. Or atleast, I didn’t actively tell you. I didn’t want you to think less of me.” He threads his fingers through his hair, stressed.
Ivory leans over and gently puts her hand on his boot. “I don’t think I could ever think less of you. You’re really someone special.”
Pyro smiles, taking his hands away from his hair to rest them on Ivory’s. She’s a bit on the cold side, but her hands are comforting nonetheless.
“Why don’t we talk about you more, Sir?” Ivory says. “I think this one topic is stressful. Why don’t we stop talking about the now and discuss your plans for the future?”
“My… plans?” Pyro thinks about it for a second. “Well, I plan to inherit the business. I plan to keep my siblings safe and happy. I plan to keep you all safe as well.”
“That’s nice. How about dreams?”
“Dreams?”
“What you want, no matter how impossible,” Ivory clarifies. “At least, that’s how Serapter explained it to me.”
“My dreams,” Pyro repeats. “Well, I would get a dog. A big shepard. No matter how much he sheds or barks or tracks mud.”
“Mhm.”
“And I would give Vi a bigger room. One of the parlor rooms we don’t use, just for him and his things. God knows he needs it.”
“Sir Vi would love that.”
“And I would marry a man.” Pyro says it bluntly. “Being with a man- with someone I love, would make me so happy. It’s my greatest wish.”
Ivory nods, but he continues.
“I mean, marriage between two men, I don’t think it’s allowed.” Pyro admits. “Additionally, I plan on being with a man. I have to wait until my father passes though. As much as he gets on my nerves, I want him to feel comfortable. When he dies, I will allow myself to date.”
Ivory is quiet for a long minute, sitting and staring at the grass. She suddenly turns to look at him, her face serious.
“Forgive me for asking, Sir,” Ivory says quietly. “But how long are you going to deny yourself happiness?”
Pyro feels himself go pale. “W-what?”
“You said so yourself. Being with a man would make you happy.” She tucks a strand of stray hair behind a pointy ear.
“I- yes, but I mean-“
“Then waiting to be with one until Sir Zombie passes would be sad, would it not? To not let yourself experience being loved until then… romantically, I mean… I imagine it could get quite lonely.” Her expression turns sad, and she makes direct eye contact with him. Her eyes are shiny and full, nothing like he’s seen before. They’re so earnest, it’s almost blinding.
“You could give yourself one hundred reasons to not be with a man, even if you’re certain he’s your soulmate, and you could live a life of regret.” She continues, serious. “But if you really want to be happy… if this is a wish of yours… you should fight for it, Sir. It’s what you want, and it’s within your grasp. Most of all, you deserve to be happy.”
Pyro looks at her, and Ivory looks back. Suddenly, she smiles, and the expression makes his heart feel warm.
“You’re important, Sir Pyro.” Ivory says. “Live the life you want to live- don’t let anything hold you back. Become the person you want to be.”
Pyro’s chest grows tight.
The relationship between a man and his family is very real; but there is a certain sense of debt there, a sense that you must be cordial to those you are related to, because the universe dictated it be such. The same could be said with the servants, as they were paid to help him. Not that Pyro did not have genuine feelings towards them, but there was a difference between employee and employer, a sense of artificiality, something that he could never shake.
But Ivory looks at him with such genuine intention, it’s as if she isn’t a maid of his house- instead, it’s like they’re two equals, giving each other advice in a garden.
Pyro feels as if he could cry. So he does. Tears begin pouring out of his eyes before he can stop them, and he starts to tremble with the force of it. Part of it is pain, letting out his laments and sorrows, but another part of it is relief . It’s as if a huge burden has been lifted off his chest.
Ivory carefully leans toward him.
“Sir Pyro, m-my apologies- I didn’t-” she breathes in sharply. “I didn’t mean to cause you distress. Not again.”
“No, it’s okay.” Pyro chuckles wetly. “I’m not crying because I’m sad. Well, not entirely.”
Pyro reaches his hand out, and Ivory meets him halfway. They hold hands, and although Ivory is as cold as bone and Pyro’s hands are sticky with tears, it feels like they are one.
“I’m just so happy,” Pyro confesses. “For once, I don’t feel so- ashamed. It’s not all gone, a bit of the feeling is still there, but- but it's like a bit of the burden has been lifted off my chest. Thank you, Ivory.”
Ivory bows, clutching her skirt with her free hand.
“You’re welcome, Sir Pyroscythe. I’m always here to help.”
Pyro smiles so hard it hurts. “You too, Ivory.”
“Huh?”
“You too- become the person you want to be. Don’t let anything keep you from what you want, deep down in your heart.”
Ivory smiles, but then her expression turns a bit grim. “That’s a dangerous thing to tell someone, Sir.”
Pyro shrugs. “I trust you’re good. I believe in you.” Ivory’s smile returns. Pyro drops her hand and motions for her to follow him.
“Now,” he says, treading through the grass to plant his feet upon the stone, next to the sway of the flowers. “Shall we head inside? As much as I enjoy the garden, I think some tea would benefit the both of us.”
“Agree, Sir.” Ivory runs to stand next to him, matching his pace.
They make their way to the doors, and Ivory takes a last deep breath of fresh air before heading into the familiar musk of the house.
There are a few things Ivory is certain of:
Serpater is her bunkmate, and good friend,
Tea tastes best with two spoonfuls of honey, no more, no less,
The piano in the basement plays beautifully,
The garden is her preferred place to spend time,
Sir Pyro and her have a lot more in common than you would think,
And the flowers are prettier when they go into full bloom, petals showing off colors proudly to the sky, inching towards the stars.