The Verdant Mark

💎

Sphinx because even though it has little to do with the plotline - why not? ^

—————

Mikyla just stood there. the gargantuan before her perched like a sphinx, it's doors as foreboding as the gates to the underworld. This didn't seem right in the least. With the adrenaline now gone, Mikyla was surer than ever that she was under some sort of weird psychedelic drug. She had to be, yet she made no attempts to try and escape -not yet, perhaps not ever. As long as she had another day of freedom before being branded as a slave to society, she would take her chances of playing being a Noble. It couldn't be that hard right? All she had to do was wear a permanent mask of distaste and coarsen up her language. Other than that, Mikyla felt that she could ace this role but again, something felt like it was missing...

Another gust of wind suddenly raced passed, caressing Mikyla's body. She shuddered at the freezing touch and found that throughout the whole ordeal the sky hadn't let up with its continuous downpour. Not wanting to suffer an outward conflict as well as one within, Mikyla made her way towards the closest shelter, walking towards the portal of uncertainty.

As soon as Mikyla got near enough, the mahogany doors swung open and by instinct, Mikyla darted behind the nearest marble column. Once carefully hidden, Mikyla hit her forehead with the heel of her palm and took a deep breath. Nobles don't hide, especially when they get to there own homes.

Furtively taking a glance behind the column, Mikyla waited for someone to step out but the doors had already closed.

"Come on Mika!" Mikyla whispered to herself. "You can do this."

Mikyla fought the urge to roll her eyes and say 'obviously'. Now wasn't the time for jokes but the thought of one did shave off some of the creeping anxiety. With the little boost of confidence, Mikyla took another calming breath before setting out towards the arched doors. Once again, as soon as she got near to the door, the swung open and Mikyla had to plant her feet to try and stay as natural as possible. She waited for someone to step out, running a quick jouska through her mind explaining who she was, where she came from and-

No, no, no. Nath- Sam said this was her house. If Mikyla was going to stick the role she had to act like she owned the place, literally. But still, nobody came out. Well... if nobody was going to step out, Mikyla might as well step in. Step into the new world of high society.

When Mikyla had fully stepped into to blinding building of glamour the doors slammed behind her causing her to almost slip on the dripping puddle underneath. Right. She got it now. The doors were automatic. It shouldn't be a surprise, whatever the Drows have a scarcity of, the nobles always have an abundance, and in this case, it's not only electricity.

"Mikael is that you?"

The voice pricks Mikyla's ears like a melody of wind blowing through the grass. It's coolness refreshing and the only thing familiar since who knows how long it's been now... A couple of hours tops, but to Mikyla it felt like an eternity since she heard a pin-drop of normalcy. She could hear her mother's footsteps but-

"Oh my god! You're soaked!" The reprimanding tone was definitely her mother's. "How many times have I told you not to drag in the rain?"

Mikyla's gaze shifted to where she could hear the sharp tap of high heels descending from a spiral staircase. The voice was her mother's. The behaviour was her mother's. The silhouette was her mother's. But the jewel-clad Noble bathed in the worlds finest ornaments could never have been her. It figured. If everyone else had changed appearances it would only make sense for Mrs. Weyn to have become a Noble as well.

Mrs. Weyn - If that was still Mikyla's last name - stopped a few inches from her daughter and tapped a foot. How in such large heels, Mikyla did not know, but if her mother maintained her wrath from being a Drow, she was better off not saying anything unless spoken to. Mrs. Weyn pursed her lipstick smothered lips and the overwhelming aroma of perfume dared Mikyla to sneeze. The stench of money wafted off of her like a plague and Mikyla was sure if she were to sneeze her mother would offer her a wad of notes instead of tissues.

"You know that carpet was imported from the Capital just the other day and now that it's wet, we'll have to replace it with a spare in storage. Your father will have a right fit! You know all too well how he likes to have spares of a thousand and now that you've strolled in like you were born on the outskirts we'll only have nine hundred and ninety-nine left."

Mikyla didn't say anything as her mother droned in about luxurious carpets. Part of it was due to the filial piety drilled into her from birth and the half due to the bizarre collections habits her father seemed to develop as a Noble. Perhaps it was a development of his supposed OCD. He always did like to have everything in order and he always had a spare screwdriver or spare first aid kit just in case he lost them, which he never did.

"Never mind," Mrs. Weyn sighs before producing a little golden bell from the depths of her flamingo scarf. "Our slave will bring you to your room for a fresh change of clothes. She's getting slightly slow nowadays but I believe the Drows are having their ceremony today so we will be getting a new batch of slaves soon. You know what they say- they're easier to replace than maintain and who would want to spend any more on one of those ghastly things than one has to?"

Mikyla could feel her nails digging into her palm. Even if it was her mother, she couldn't stand how she tossed aside the welfare of the Drows. She may be a Noble in this reality but Mikyla always thought her mother would at least still have the decency she had whilst a Drow. She never talked rudely about the Nobles before so why should she have double standards when it comes to Drows. Is it just culture now? Do the Nobles even see the Drows as elves at all?

Mikyla could feel a retort clawing at her throat and she figured if her mother couldn't hold her tongue then why should she? Her mother was even to busy busting her nails to notice Mikyla's shift in mood, something which she could generally spot a mile away, but just before the worlds sliced off her tongue, there was a small nasally wheeze beside her.

----------

Word Count for Chapter 9: 1145
Total Word Count: 12960

Authors Note:

So... Soz for the late chapter, but you know, writers block and all-

Anyway, I hope you liked the UNEDITED chapter 9! Don't forget to press on those magical stars to light up Mikyla's future path and leave a comment telling me what you like so far or what you don't like. Thanks for reading so far.

Happy reading
~ Dracollavenore