The Man in White

A Chapter by Shaibelle

Second written short about Winter.

I am waiting for my ship to come, the walls to collapse, and the teacup to ignite my soul. Of course I expect none of that to really happen; those hopes are too high above me at current. I am sitting and waiting for her, puppet master, you know how it goes- with my favorite porcelain teacup in my hands, naturally. Miss Falcon is late today, likely off with some poor fool and breaking his little heart. I loved her once, I remember when I did, but she will never compare to my wife...well, not my wife, but my almost-wife anyway. I find myself fortunate, at least I think it's fortune, that my hair still holds onto some of it's muddy blackness my raspberry scented almost-wife found inviting. Every morning I wake I gain more and more of the silver-white hairs upon my head, all of them much earlier than nature would like. The teacup stares at them, wondering how they got that way, and I tell him, “It's all in your head, go back to sleep.” He listens, as usual. How boring.

I never tell anyone about the curse, nor do they ever hear how old I really am- even my own species, the Elvaans, would find it questionably impossible. Nature tells me I'm still young, as I dare to think otherwise, and I sigh, knowing it's right pointless to fight with it. This stupid house's walls isolated me from society, and I never have visitors...except the shadows, but they're not requested. Kings are meant to rule peoples, not be exiled and sentenced to asylums- especially ones in Shangri-la where no society ever goes. I lift myself from my pitiful, antique rocking chair and pace the floor: the shadow-folk were exceptionally active today. I tried to explain them to the queen before she died, but she would hear nothing of them, telling me not to speak of such trivial things.

I watch them roving about in my orchids, passing through my walls, glancing at me with questioning looks upon their faceless heads. They were all aware of me, but none of them ever seemed to notice one another- it was most intriguing. A very small, nearly human-girl, shadow tugs at my rolled up sleeve. The longer I lived around them, the more used to this odd behavior I became, “Yes, little miss?”

She gestures her midnight black hands towards my window, “The gate was left open, sir. The flowers are escaping.” Her voice was just like every other shadow-creature's: hesitant, unnatural, and filled with the timbre of dying worlds. Each shadow came from their own world, so when they spoke it only related to their world, for this was all they saw.

I smile awkwardly, trying not to make it lopsided, and I whisper, “So they are,” she seemed comforted at that- if such a thing is possible for little shadow-girls- and I continue, “I best close that gate, shan't I? Thank you, child.” Like a fading mist, she is gone the moment her message is conveyed. I step carefully over a heap of broken cups, I wasn't much for surprises these days, and go to examine the window “gate” the little shadow spoke of. They were always referring to something in my world, but I never knew how- then I saw it.

My fingers, pale and thin, slip from the cup- my favorite cup- and it shatters amid the pile of hundreds of others. The “gate” had meant the literal gate to my prison, it was wide open and swinging in the breeze. Flower petals swarmed around it as a girl, barely thirteen, fought the wrought-iron bars open; she was having quite a bit of trouble. From the look of the her she had not lived a happy life, and had just escaped whatever situation she fled from- it reminds me of the image storybooks portray when they bring about a feral child character. Frantic to help her keep that door open, and thus seal my freedom, I lean up to the window and blow a cloud of icen breath to glass. With a single tap the entire pane falls to pieces; this was the only unaided method out of the house I knew.

The girl's wispy, raven hair flails wildly in the deadening winter winds beyond the walls of my prison, she was gasping now, losing the battle quickly. Being so tall, maneuvering through the window was troublesome, but once free I sprint to the girl, enveloping her ragged form in all the twisted angles of my arms. The wind was much stronger than I thought and my hair is whipped from a ponytail and into my face, leaving me to guesswork when I strike out, with my leg in the air, to hold the giant cursed metal. The young lady rails for a matter of seconds, then bursts away from me to help fight the massive thing. Barely a second later it slams open and I topple into a heap of snow- I was free.

The metal immediately begins to rust and the bars melt away. The flowery gardens I had created are effaced in a mountain of snow the curse had so long held off. My season was mine again. I rise, slowly at first, and begin to twirl around and dance amid the snow, laughing like a madman. Hell, they said I was mad to begin with, so I was a madman. The girl gives me a nervous glance and asks, definitively, “Ah yeh the mountain king?” I stop my imbicilic dance and turn to her in stiffened amazement- only one woman had ever called me by that name. Her appearance falls into my eyes like pepper and ash, and I grin. She stood before me in perfection, my love's daughter...my almost-daughter.

“I-I am he,” I allow the blizzard about us to die so I can comprehend her.

Black hair falls about her snow-decorated features and she glances down at a limp and half-shredded little paper, “Mah mother said if Ah came heh yeh might help me.” Only then do I realize she carries the heavy scent of burning flesh and hatred. She glares up at me with eyes so strikingly like her mother's I have to sigh - good to know her father was still a complete arse. I hoped whatever that burning flesh smell was, it was his dying corpse.

“I assume you're requesting a place to stay.” I vaguely remember her mother suggesting a name for her baby while she was pregnant, and I decide I just have ask, “Is your name Reiko, by any chance?” The girl's eyes flash at me.

“Yeh're not one of them soldier's ah yeh?” She was already grasping through the rags of clothing for a knife.

I stare at the house I had been trapped in for so long and glower, “Not unless the military's of the habit of locking their men away in asylums these days.” She seems to take that as an effective answer and comes after me as I slowly wander back to the house- it was in a completely new light now that I had a choice to come and go as I please. “You know, I have a daughter about your age...it might be wise if I sent you to her. They aren't very fond of murderers this side of the world, you know.” Her pale skin flushes red in anger, the blue tattoos etched around her left eye flaring in contrast.

“Ah did what'd keep meh sorry self alive. Ah've not done anythin' wrong.” Angry woman, I conclude.

“Anyone's welcome in my presence, Miss Reiko. I won't judge.” She looks down, clearly ashamed that I know what she's done. Truly I didn't know- I only affirmed what I thought. I tried not to see into minds, it often hurt more than it helped a situation. Either way, I was going to help her- I hope that in my assisting I'll be able to find her mother again. I missed her, so much more than I could describe. This mirror image of her walking before me tore at my heart strings- if only I would have married her mother back then, before her master chased her down and stole her from me. I don't even know why I let her go, but it still hurts, and I still love her, and now I know she still loved me- she sent me her daughter...my almost-daughter.

I grant her my bed, I hadn't slept in it in over ten years, and bring her what few eatables Miss Falcon allowed me. Funny she never came in today. I sit and watch her, secretly smiling, and remembering the woman I can never have. Raspberries, Reiko carried the hint of them in her frayed hair, just like her mother, my almost-wife. In the morning I would take her to my biological daughter, if I could still find her of course. Shuyin, my daughter, would get along well with her, I was sure. I hope she still lives with that Iris fellow she loved last time I saw her, but I doubt she is. Leaving Reiko to sleep I sit down in my favorite chair, and pick a new favorite teacup to drink my favorite raspberry tea, and I sigh. A withering sigh. Tomorrow I would leave this damn house and never return, but the freedom still felt stale and empty. At least the shadows seemed to like it. Stupid things. A definitively female shadow glances at me for a moment, and I wave her off. I must really confuse them...

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