Darius nearly frowns, not because she is incorrect, her evaluation is as ever accurate as his. No, he is brought a peculiar sadness that his slave has give up on freedom. 'I want to free you' he nearly says 'free you from your burdens. Your illness. Send you to a place of prosper and let you grow.' But ultimately, Darius knows it is unwise to free his slave, so many others would attempt to wager to gain access for their pets as well. Though he could look the other way. Let her escape, mourn her absence. He does not wish to part ways with her, and somehow, he doubts if he opened the door she’d leave. Regardless of the thoughts that click through his mind like clockwork, he manages to break his down expression with a small smile, more for the sake of masking his internal dispute, “I believe my poor mood could be easily cured with a cup of coffee and fine music, my dear. Would you be so kind as to provide it.”
If Roslyn knew of her masters desires for her own freedom, it would truly only puzzle her. Freedom is a concept long lost to the woman, imprisoned in a mental hospital from a young age built up permanent walls within her; so coming to Covaire was truly not that different. But it was. She found her time away from him hellish because the cool touch upon her skin was not his. Roslyn had no desire to part with her master, if the iron gates we opened she’d simply shut them once more. When Darius speaks again with a cool and effortless tone, a similarly rare smile manifests its self on her lips. He wishes to ease her mind and oh she only hopes to do the same for him. “Of course, sir.” Slowly Roslyn rises, a plan of action already brewing between the cracks in her mind. Gently she hands the action report back to Darius, slender fingers lingering and trailing down his arm for a brief moment before she remembers herself and exits the room.
Perfect is very boring, and if you happen to have a different look, that’s a celebration of human nature, I think. If we were all symmetrical and perfect, life would be very dull.
"I do not often rest, my dear," he replies, watching as she sinks to her knees beside him, eyes scanning the papers laid out before the two. In truth, Darius had all but given up sleep, his centuries of being a vampire allowed him great insight, but also allowed him to witness many great horrors. It had made him more cold, to have watched such dreadful scenes. More however, the death of his own family sought to torment his thoughts at rest. They clawed his unconscious even beyond the grave. "What do you think of this?" Darius mused, as he handed her an incident report of a seemingly unruly slave at the Chateau.
Curiously Roslyn stuck out her hand and snagged the outstretched paper, eyes greedily scanning the words and soaking up the information presented to her. Never did her expression falter but immediately she found herself annoyed with the troublesome slave. “I think… they lack discipline. They still believe freedom is an option and… they are frightened. Stupid.” Sympathy wasn’t something lost to Roslyn, just an emotion that rarely showed its face, rooted deeply in her scarred mind. She held sympathy for those she cared for, and there were only two. “Is there… anything I can help you with tonight? Something that will lighten your burden?” Some would think it foolish, her offer to help, but easing Darius’ mind was the constant thing on her mind.
Spreads of sheets of paper lay upon his desk. Even at home, away from the office, he could not escape his work. But it was all he could seem to do during his endless days and long nights when he was not every so often looming around his slave’s bed, watching her struggle to find rest. Tonight is different however, he hears her quiet call from down the hall, her gentle steps to his door. “Come in, my dear,” he calmly says, turning over his shoulder to watch the door creak open.
With his permission Roslyn eased the door open completely, padding in wearing minimal clothing that kept her comfortable during the night. Her first reaction was to go straight to the bed, to watch him curiously from the plush mattress; but his work forms caught her eye. With a few more steps she was at Darius’ side, sinking to her knees next to him but keeping her eyes focused on his work, looking for numbers, patterns. “Have you had trouble with rest as well?”
"Sir?" Roslyn’s voice was but a whisper carrying through the darkened hallway, but still cut through the lingering silence. Restless night had followed restless night and eventually she could take no more tossing and turning. The girl found herself drifting through the halls, footfalls carrying her to her master room where she paused, knocked softly before easing the door opening slowly, inch by inch.
Alexander watched as she began to sit up and look at him, he had seen this slave once or twice before and he was pretty sure she was the kings slave. Though the few times he had met her before he had never known her to be open and friendly. “A smart slave, so rare in this city.” He said with a chuckle before nodding. “Yes its been a rather eventful and fun night.”
A sound even in rarity as Roslyn’s good mood was made when he spoke of smart slaves; she laughed. It was breathy, light as the breeze rolling by but manifested all the same. “Would it be wrong of me to say that you’re correct?” Momentarily she looked away, stretching her limbs before ultimately deciding to stay a bit longer and lay back down upon her beach towel. “It’s Mr. Moreau, correct?”
Alexander had some business that he had to take care of, it seemed no one else knew how to punish those who broke rules. When he had finished taking care of the problem he had headed for the Cove, cleaning his hands in the water before strolling along the beach. He really didn’t spend much time outside and it really was nice and peaceful out here while there were no noisy slaves and civilians run around. He was walking when he spotted a girl laying on the sand and he rose an eyebrow, even more surprised when the girl waved. “You know with that porcelain skin of yours you should be careful you don’t burn.” He mused as he moved closer.
Blood was easy to sniff out upon his hands, a scent all too familiar to the blonde haired girl. Slowly Roslyn began to push herself upward, slender digits plowing into the now cooling sand with mechanical motions to ease her way. Maybe it was the long exposure to the sunlight that had brought a minor shift in her personality; though whatever it was, the time limit was unknown. “A good point. The reason why sunscreen is ever plentiful. Enjoying your evening?”
Roslyn hummed lightly as she awoke from a brief slumber, only to find the sun dwindling down and the last rays gleaming off the surface of the Cove waters. The beach was near empty, a few stragglers left wandering on the sandy shore but most had decided to make the trip back home. Eventually the woman would as well, but curfew wasn’t for a few more hours and she wanted to watch the last of the sun disappear. Aimlessly she looked up only to catch the eye of another. She paused, raising a brow before raising her hand as well, giving a small wave that was completely out of character for her.