Deep in the Void

Chapter 9: A Visitor

Arabella

Arabella was on the top deck, supervising the ship's servicing. Ceris had gone back to her bedroom, looking distinctly saddened.
The crew had boarded about an hour after, and were now cleaning the deck, servicing the guns, and going about many other menial tasks required to keep the ship in working order.

'Well?' asked a voice from her left.
Standing on the top step were the twins, Pearl and Flame Eye. Pearl was an old species of white Enderman that favoured four legs for movement. Flame eye, despite being her twin, was a more standard enderman, save for the red markings and glowing orange eyes that resulted from his pyromantic abilities. It was him who had spoken.
'Well what?' replied Arabella, half distracted. One of the crew was determinedly screwing in the Ender cannon's service hatch back to front, whilst Nikiti hastened to stop him.
'How was your little one-on-one with Ceris?' asked Flame Eye.
Arabella turned and gave him her full attention.
'What do you mean "how was it"?' she demanded, feeling defensive.
'Arabella, you are fooling no-one.' Pearl spoke this time, her voice snappish and sulky as usual. 'You've taken a liking to this Ender Lord, and don't insult our intelligence by denying it.'
'Excuse me?' Arabella's voice changed, becoming as soft as a silk wrapped knife. This was not acceptable. Arabella turned towards Pearl, her voice honey sweet and infinitely threatening.
'Did you just give me an order?'
Flame eye tried to speak, but Arabella raised her hand.
'Last time I checked, I was in charge, so don't tell me what I can and can't say.'
Turning away, she was about to go and tell Nikiti to stop yelling at the poor engineers, when Pearl spoke from behind her.
'You've changed, you know.'
Arabella stopped.
'You used to be fun. You used to talk to us. Now all we get from you are orders.'
Arabella stared at the ground for a moment.
'The world is always changing, Pearl. I changed with it. That's not the problem. The problem is that you didn't change. And when my friend can't accept that the world isn't the same as it was 250 years ago, what can I do?'
And she walked away from them, down to the deck where Nikiti was attempting to dismember a mechanic.

Ceris

For the fourteenth time, Ceris threw the covers off herself, muttering curses she hadn't spoken since she was 50. Try as she might, her mind was too heavy with grief to let her sleep.
Instead she stared blankly at the room, taking in the details again. There was a crimson wood wardrobe, stocked with a variety of purple patterned black hoodies. Lance had always mocked her lack of variety in clothing choice, something she'd steadfastly ignored. What time did she have for choosing clothes? She had a kingdom to run! It was only from an outside perspective that she saw how silly some of her personal choices may have seemed.
How the hoodies had got there was anyone's guess, but she put it down to Arabella's magic.

The rest of the room was fairly bare. Purpur brick and endstone walls, the warped wood cabinet with pink orchids in a pot, a tinted porthole and a bed with purple sheets.
At Dragonspire, I made a law against sheets made of any softer material than chorus leaves. Her hand curled into a fist, which she rested her face on, grinding her knuckles into her eyes. Had she even been a good ruler? Was she any better than Naeus? Had the people obeyed her out of fear? They knew the alternative. Rule under Lance. A power crazed madman who hadn't truly grown up since he bullied us at school.
She tried to quell the panic in her chest. She was breathing much quicker than normal. Don't go down that path! It doesn't make any difference!
Doesn't make any difference. Ceris sighed. Lance had said the same thing to her as she'd tried to stop his army. Less than a month later, he would be outcast, power broken and armies destroyed.

For better or worse, she was pulled from her thoughts by a heavy knock at the door.
'Who is it?' she called out, trying not to let her voice wobble.
'Me'
Purple Reaper's rasping tone answered.
'What do you want?'
'Just to talk.'
Ceris hesitated. She wasn't in the mood for a visitor, but it might be good for her to talk to someone besides herself or Arabella.
'Come in.'

Purple Reaper opened the door slowly, as though he was afraid of breaking it. Shutting it behind him, he looked at Ceris.
'I...just came to check you were ok. And to bring a message.'
Sitting on the bed, Ceris regarded him. He was handsome, in Draconic terms, with hard, unblemished grey skin, pristine wings and pure white eyes. Presently, however, he looked distinctly awkward, and rather too big for the room's small dimensions.
'What's the message?' asked Ceris.
'The captain requests that if you feel strong enough, she would appreciate your company tonight, after the sun has completely set.'
Ceris frowned 'That's an oddly specific time, without actually being a specific time.'
Purple Reaper shrugged. The movement caused his wings to spread out slightly, knocking the pot of orchids off the cabinet.
Catching it, he quickly replaced it on the cabinet.
'My apologies. I suspect she simply wishes to prevent you from interacting with the rest of the crew. That may be wise, given your...current state of mind.'
Ceris's eyes bored into him. 'My current state of mind?'
Purple Reaper looked even more awkward, but didn't back down.
'I do not mean to offend. I simply meant that you might not appreciate a ship-load of curious crew members.'
Ceris looked down. Purple Reaper looked relieved.
'I suppose she's right. Tell her that I accept her invitation.'
Purple Reaper nodded.
'Is their anything that can be done for your comfort?'
Ceris almost said no, then thought for a moment.
'I would appreciate some books.'
Purple Reaper turned towards the door.
'Very well. I'm sure the captain will be happy to oblige.'
He left, folding his wings tightly behind him as he passed through the door, leaving Ceris to her tumultuous thoughts.