Chapter 2 : Amiss

"Home?"

Élodie took the apple out of Adrien's hand and watched it closely. The apple shimmered bright red. It felt smooth to the touch. It felt just a little bit different to texture of her own skin. With furrowed brows, she looked back up into Durand's starry skies he called his eyes. "Why so concerned?" he asked her with a smile, adjusting his posture. He was as straight as an arrow, his posture perfect in every way. The noblewoman shook her head.
"Come now, mademoiselle." He offered her his hand which she took with hesitation. "I will show you around."

The crowd hurried back to their places, talking behind their backs. Élodie could here them chatter as Adrien led her by her elevated hand. The first thing they stopped next to was a chocolate fountain. Adrien expertly snatched one of the skewers of strawberries and rolled it in the continuous stream of chocolate before handing it to her. "Try it. It's to die for." Élodie hesitated, but carefully took a bite, not once leaving his gaze. He watched in contentment how she bit down on the fruit, swallowing it quietly. She felt her mouth water immediately. The strawberry was perfectly ripe, juicy and sweet. Still, something was amiss. It wasn't watered down, there were no noticeable bits of skin or seed, just fruit. The green stem that you were supposed to spit out was gone. For a moment, she took her hand out of his and lifted it up to her face, bashfully checking her mouth for the forbidden leaves. Nothing to be found. Her eyes darted back up.

"My, my, aren't you nervous?" He chuckled behind his hand and turned towards her. "Mademoiselle, I promise you, no one will hurt you. We're just here to celebrate." Without another word, he took her hand again and pulled her after him. The crowd begun to dance anew. Music was playing, rhythmic and melodic, the harmonies both warming and calming their hearts. Adrien guided her towards a smaller stage of jesters, juggling and dancing with balanced plates on their noses, held up by a stick. Some were balancing on colourful spheres, others rode unicycles. Élodie lost herself in the view of the masked figures, smiling from ear to ear as they performed their tricks. Furfolk, humans and elvenkind applauded with a smile, cheering for it, as Adrien pulled her even further. The stronger he pulled, the blurrier her gaze. It was as if the pictures flew by.

Next, they stopped by a table of food and drink. A waiter stood behind, eyes in a bright hazel brown, but no light shining from within. He smiled heartily, handing Élodie a glass of champagne. "Mademoiselle, for you!" She seemed confused, but took a sip, noticing Adrien's eyes on her. "This is Marcel, one of my dearest assistants." Marcel gleamed with joy. "Only for the best of lords." He made a bow. The blonde nobleman chuckled and turned towards Élodie again. "Isn't it wonderful to have servants this nice?" She smiled weakly. Noone was this happy to serve someone. Even those that stayed at their house willingly had never been particularly bubbly or kind. After all, it was their work and duty to do whatever they wanted. They weren't bound to them anymore as it had been the case in the old days. No... This was too calculated, too perfect.

"Excuse me, Monsieur Durand." She smiled sweetly, giving Adrien's palm a gentle squeeze. "I'd like to powder my nose. Would you be so kind to tell me where I can?" Surprised, the lord nodded, gesturing towards the hallway on the left of the stage. "Right there, Élodie. Don't make me wait too long!"

In quick, small steps, she vanished in the crowd, rushing towards the hallway. As she reached it, she slipped inside. Here, where Adrien's gaze couldn't follow her, all light had drained from the walls. Blues, greys and blacks governed this side of the castle. She carefully stepped forward, fingertips against the wall to not lose her footing. The bathroom she had asked for was there at the end of the hallway, marked with a sign. In hopes that no one would follow her, she went in, locking the door behind her. She pressed her ear against the cold wood. Nothing to be heard. She rolled the glistening ring in her hands. It didn't glow blue as it had before. Maybe she could escape him if she watched the ring close enough.

The lord of the castle she was in felt surreal, just as the place she had woken up in. Why was there no light where he wasn't present? She turned to the stone wall and let her fingers glide over its cold surface. As she grazed it, it wasn't rough, nor was it polished. It felt as if she could scrape it off. Her nail dug into stone and as she tore it down, ignoring the initial pain, the stone revealed "Canvas?"