My eyes fluttered open, as light entered my eyes. I had woken up from a slumber that felt like an eternity. My chapped lips opened as I took deep breath, wincing as a thousand sharp needles pierced my dry throat.
It wasn't the most pleasant of feelings, but I'd felt worse.
I sighed, gathered my thoughts. I used my hands to slowly sit up, my eyes scanning the unfamiliar empty room, with bright white walls and a large open window. The breeze caressed my waist long black hair.
I failed to die yet again.
"Ah, you're awake." A deep calming voice echoed in the room. My eyes traveled to a man. A man who seemed to be in his forties. With dark auburn hair and emerald eyes, the man walked towards me, a glass of water in hand.
"How long has it been," I said, after finishing the glass. My voice almost unfamiliar as it delicately bounced off the walls.
"100 years." The man stated as I hummed, deep in thought.
"No wonder your attire looks so odd." I said, staring the peculiar dress shirt he wore underneath his coat. It had neither collar nor a necktie.
"That's-" he started as I lifted my hand, waiting for him to help me out the bed. "It's called a t-shirt. Popularized back in the 1950s, thirty years after your recent slumber." The man said as he supported me while I slid off the bed.
"I believe it's proper etiquette to bow and name yourself first before starting a conversation or have the rules of etiquette changed yet again?" I said, my hand in his as I steadied myself. My legs and bare feet felt odd on the cold wooden floor, as if they were not mine to begin with.
It has been a hundred years since I have walked.
"I'm Warren. Warren Arshawl." He stated and I turned to look at him, pausing to stare at his face.
This Warren Arshawl looked familiar.
I studied each corner of his face, trying to remember exactly why he was so familiar. It was a face aged with time, wrinkles forming at the edges of his eyes. His auburn hair had whites, yet his green eyes still had life.
I have seen those unique eyes before.
"Ah, you look exactly like William." I said, remembering the cutest little boy I had found before my first slumber. I had saved the 10 year old child from being taken by those brutish slave traders. Seeing that he had uncommon green eyes, it was not a surprise for him to be wanted by such fiends.
He would have been worth a lot because of his cute childlike features and clear emerald eyes.
Oddly enough, after I rescued him, he stuck to me like a child glued to his mother, even though I was nothing like one. A small smile graced my lips as I remembered the day he vowed to look after me during my slumber.
A pity I missed his funeral.
"William Arshawl. The first caretaker?" Warren asked, a hint of surprise in his eyes. I nodded as I noticed the mirror in the corner.
I stared at the girl in the mirror, her bright purple eyes were a large contrast to her dark long hair. Her skin so pale, one could almost see her veins.
Exactly the same. Not a single thing had changed. One would think that a hundred year nap would age a witch. A human - if I still am one.
Oh my, it seems that I had been conversing in my nightgown.
My brows furrowed in disapproval, as I stared at the white lace gown that girl in the mirror wore. It was delicate yet unfamiliar. I traced the sleeve of the dress, surprised to see its intricate designs.
It seems that they had changed my attire during my slumber, which was very appreciated. I remembered the uncomfortable 100 year old nightgown I wore the last time I woke. Shivers traveled my spine as I turned to Warren.
"May I request a fresh set of clothing?" I asked, frowning. Despite how good the quality was, it was of bad etiquette to present oneself in their night attire.
"Ah, yes. I will send someone up." Warren said as he lead to me a red lounge chair. I nodded and I sat down, watching Warren walk out the wooden door.
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"Warren, I cannot believe how much the times have changed." I said in awe. "The women of this period wear such odd clothes. Are they not embarrassed to show this much skin? But then, this attire is very comfortable. Nice to move in." I stated as I opened the doors to Warren's study.
I was wearing a black 'tee shirt' that fit quite loosely and was very comfortable, unlike those devilish corsets I was forced to don. This was then paired with a pair of trousers in an odd bright blue shade. I turned back to see the forty year old man look up from a silver box. An odd box that emitted light and had a half eaten apple engraved in the center.
What an odd family crest. If I do meet William in the afterlife, I must ask why on earth he would chose a half eaten apple as his family crest.
"I enrolled you in high school." Warren started, disrupting my train of thought. "They said you can start tomorrow, if you'd like." He placed the silver box flat on the table before standing up, gesturing to the lounge chairs in the corner of the study.
"What exactly is this 'high school' you are speaking of?" I frowned, wrinkles forming between my brows. I walked to the chairs, sitting down as Warren passed me a cup of tea.
"I believe you know the first caretaker's last wishes. He wanted you to live that normal life you dreamed of, as a thank you for saving him." Warren started, staring at the other side of the room. My eyes followed his line of sight and fell on a bookshelf. Specifically, a familiar book that looked older than the rest.
"Even I thank you. If you hadn't saved the first caretaker that day, there would be no Arshawl lineage." Warren started, his green eyes shimmering with passion. "I vow to you my loyalty and allegiance. I'm forever grateful."
How funny, he did not strike me as a passionate lad the first time we had met, but still how rude of William to lie about my aspirations. I wanted to die; not to live. Even after death, must you get in my way?
This may be another one of William's underhanded methods to keep me alive. Again, we play this foolish charade. One would think, after 300 years, that the Arshawls would eventually allow me to die without a fight.
I huffed as I reached for my cup, sipping the tea as its pleasant aroma wafted through the air. Breathing in its delicate scent, I leaned further onto the chair's arms, relaxing myself.
No matter; this is of no consequence. Let us continue this distorted game of life and death, William. This game you so wish to play.
"This is why I'm enrolling you to high school." Warren started, noticing that I had placed my cup down. "For you to live a normal life, you'll need to learn the," Warren paused, thinking of the right term. "The etiquette of this period."
"Then this 'high school' you are speaking of is like a tutor, yes?" I continued, "Am I not too old for tutors?" I laughed and repositioned myself on the chair.
How many decades has it been since I've had a tutor. How laughable, a 300 year old woman needing a tutor. Have you already run out of ideas, William.
"You look like you're 16. I doubt anyone will notice." Warren huffed, leaning back on his chair. "You just have to change the way you talk."
"What exactly is wrong with my ability to converse? I believe that my English is impeccable." I crossed my arms in annoyance, a frown clearly plastered on my face.
"That. Exactly that." Warren said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
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Hello,
Please tell me if anything seems off or wrong. Especially, the pacing of the story. Is it too slow? Too fast, maybe?
Thank you again for reading and I hope to hear from you soon.
Sincerely,
Titania