Small bit of Defiance

-The Cartagan Orchard. Early Morning, 2 DSTR-

Cordelia stared at the ceiling, contemplating the events from the weeks that had followed. Turning her head to the empty pillow next to her own, she half prayed Alyona was dead. What a shame it would be for her to be found a runaway slave. Looking back up to the ceiling, she lifted her hand, eyeing the lack of dirt beneath her nails. The rummaging of women putting on what Cordelia dared to call clothes, coaxed her out of bed. Dawn had hardly began to strike, but the house was alive.

Her loose, white canvas night gown fell past her knees; her long brown hair cascading to just above her rear. Making her bed slowly, her eyes continued to fall on the space where Alyona had stayed. Confusion and uncertainty surrounding the reason why she left.

Since the death of her Master, the house had successfully begun to fall apart, in the most symbolic way possible. The slaves had little motivation to serve anyone but themselves. The foundation of both the Orchard and the house growing weak with the lack of care. It brought a true realization that the Orchard would be nothing without them. It would not run, it would not grow, and the weeds would claim the lands as their own.
Turning to the dresser where her uniform rested, she sat on the side of the bed and stared at her pale features through the mirror. Blowing out a sigh, her lips vibrating together, she stood and pulled the nightgown upwards, and over her head. Her toned body revealing itself to only the ghosts that haunted her, she began the process of readying herself for work.

Fixing her gold-plated g-string panty, aligning the veils with the outline of her toned stomach, she turned to the side. The sides of her bottom revealed, she ran a hand down her smooth skin before forcing her breasts to cooperate with the metal cupping. Thumbing the laces in the back, she took extra care to ensure its stability. The red leather collar sat on her dresser, mocking her. Strapping it around her slender neck, she eyed the body that no longer felt like her own.

Taking on the tedious task of folding her night gown, she placed it in the drawer next to the dresses that they used to wear; which were twenty times over more sensible than the costume they paraded in now. Thumbing the soft, lavender fabric, she slammed the dresser shut and looked back into the mirror. Her long, curly brown hair, cascading down to just above her rear, begged to be tamed. Pulling it back in an extremely loose, and voluminous French braid, she tied the end with a black ribbon she had sitting on the top of her dresser.

Striding over to her window, she looked out to see the slaves at work in the Orchard. It could only mean one thing, someone was here to claim their property; which only meant that Cordelia was once more owned. Some of the younger girls were sprinting about, laughing while their weaved baskets bounced in the air. Making a game of sort for their work? Most definitely.

Cordelia was about to turn towards the door, until one of the other slaves knocked rapidly and entered the room. Jumping slightly, she clenched her jaw and stared squarely at the girl. “What is it?” Cordelia panted. The adrenaline from the quick arrival still pulsing. “Cordelia, Tyreth, Master’s nephew, he’s here,” she whispered. Cordelia raised a brow and moved her head as if saying, “and?”. The girl, Lily, pushed the door open wider, providing an answer to her unsaid question. “And he wants everyone downstairs,” she said a little bit louder. Cordelia relaxed her shoulders and nodded. It was time to meet the oh-so-famous, Tyreth.

Cordelia followed suit, noticing many other women leaving rooms and heading towards the stairs. “What is he like as far as you can tell?” Cordelia whispered towards Lily. “He hit one of the field slaves to get our attention,” Lily whispered back. Cordelia’s protective nature set in, and she straightened her posture while heading towards the stairs. The pitter-patter of the bare feet on hard wood could be heard from every corner of the house. Cordelia picked Maxine out of the small gathering of women, and moved to her side. The ladies wore different shades of blues and purples in their outfits, yet Cordelia wore red. Her color demanded attention. The women gathered in the entry way, slowly lining the wall like the Master used to have them do. Cordelia stood on the left side of the doorway, whereas Maxine stood on the right. In unison, the woman bowed their heads and said in quiet tones, “Master,” then raised their line of vision towards Tyreth.

Cordelia took him in, anxiety pulling at her heart strings for the other girls. She prayed they all had done as requested so far, and was tempted to confront Tyreth about his earlier action. Yet, she didn’t want to set an example of herself yet. Instead of looking away from him, avoiding eye contact like the other women, she rested her eyes on him directly. It was a small sign of defiance, but the smallest ones were always the loudest.

<tag: Tedwar & Ren(?)>