Entry Thirty Seven

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Truthfully, in years gone by, I knew very little about the men who escorted me to Balls. If a man came from good breeding and had a respectable standing in society, it was arranged through our families that I would attend with one of their sons and that was that.

Which is how I ended up with Pierre. So now, as I do not wish for history to repeat itself, drastic measures must be taken.

* * *

I hesitated, holding my little chipped cup of tea permeated with Geroux's blood, grimacing at the thought of consuming his blood again. A rather depraved and uncultured act for anyone, let alone a lady.

Thankfully my intentions of being ladylike have been tabled for the time being.

I sipped the tea. Nothing. At dinner, when Geroux put a drop of his blood in my drink the "feeling" overwhelmed me rather quickly. Having less blood in this drink seemed to definitely be affect its potency. So I took sip after sip as quickly as I could possibly swallow.

It was not until about halfway through the tea that I heard a familiar voice.

"Mon chéri?" asked the candelabra, who had suddenly sprung to life.

"She's back! She's back!" said the little teacup, jumping up and down on the spot, the last few drops of tea spilling out.

"It's about time," joked the mantle clock.

"Are you feeling alright, dear?" asked the teapot in her warm, maternal tone.

"Yes," I said, "A touch woozy, but much better than last time."

The ornaments all gathered around, on the desk in front of me. "Now, I do not know how long this will last, so I must get right to it. I need you to tell me about Geroux."

All the ornaments looked at one another. "What exactly do you wish to know, madame?" questioned the candelabra.

"Tell me about his condition. Tell me about how it is possible that I can talk to you. Tell me anything," I said, determined.

The ornaments all looked at one another, their faces awash with concern.

"It is not so simple, mon chéri," began the candelabra.

"No - I am sick of being left answerless - start talking," I demanded. "Come on, out with it!"

"Well, I - I guess there's no harm in trying," said the teapot. I was unsure of what she meant by that at the time, but did not want to delay whatever they had to say.

"You see, Geroux has a condition where —" began the teapot, but before she could finish, tea began spewing out of her spout, dripping onto the floor. "Oh dear..."

"Oh, uh never mind," I said. I went and grabbed a towel from the stacked pile and pressed it into the puddle of tea.

"You see, mon cherie," continued the Candelabra, "Geroux is special, for he has the ability to give us —"

As if a breeze had come through the room, the candelabra's flames went out. "Sacré bleu!"

The little teacup jumped up and squeaked, "It isn't Geroux's fault, he was —" before promptly spinning around in circles so quickly he almost spun off the table. I managed to catch him just as he fell.

"I guess I'll give it a try," said the mantle clock, clearing his throat as he stepped forward. "It all started when —"

Suddenly, his entire clock face began to fall apart. The hour hand and minute hand dropped off, springs popped out from all directions and little gears spilled onto the desk.

"What on earth is the matter with all of you?" I asked, filled with concern. They had never acted like this before.

"Oh my dear," started the teapot, sighing, "We cannot say. Nor do I believe we will ever be able to explain why we cannot say."

"Whenever we try to talk about it, we are silenced. I do not know how we will ever be able to explain the situation to you," said the candelabra, holding out his arms. The candles were smoking from where they were lit. "Pourrez vous s'il vous plait?"

"Of course," I said, opening the top drawer of the desk. Inside I had a pile of spare matches, so I took one out and used the side of the desk as a striker to relight his candles. He bowed, as if to say thank you.

"Well, I know it's something to do with his blood," I announced to the ornaments. They all nodded. I noticed the mantle clock was still fixing his face back into position with his little wooden arms.

"You're on the right track, dear," confirmed the teapot. "I sincerely wish we could help you out in some way."

"Your friendship is a continued help," I said, honestly.

The mantle clock stood bolt upright, trying to speak, but was muffled due to his incomplete face. I hurriedly helped him put the minute and hour hand back into position, winding them to what I believed to be the correct time.

"I know where to find the answers and now is the time for you to look," he proclaimed.


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