Chapter Text
From the very start of her disheartening existence, Oima had been used to that awful word: ‘disappoint’. When she had opened her eyes to a burning world, her ears had picked up the very word spilling from the strange man’s mouth.
“What a disappointment. It seems that she is the only survivor. Quite disheartening,” he coldly observed before bending down to inspect her closely. “Yes, I do think she is functioning. Her heart is beating, albeit slowly and with difficulty.”
Functioning? She was being scrutinized to the point where she was no longer a living and breathing person, but a machine. Her lips pursed as she tried to turn her eyes to look at the man rather than the burning house around them, which he paid no attention to.
“Oh look, brother! The creature is reacting to my words!” Now staring at the man, Oima noticed that his eyes were emotionless but his mouth was still pulled up and his brows were raised in a strange display of childish excitement. It was disturbing, to say the very least.
“Shouldn’t we be focusing on the task rather than what that human is doing, Karl?” a dark-haired man roughly questioned from behind his brother’s shoulder. He was too far away for Oima’s battered eyes to make out any key features. “You were saying that you could sense a pure lifeforce in this house. Is this the one, or do we need to continue searching?”
“I do believe that she is the one, as pitiful as she looks now…” Karl paused for a moment before his eyes lifted up to gaze at the ruined house, the ignited curtains and aflame tapestries. “I do wonder what happened here.”
Oima weakly coughed as she fought to stay conscious and ignore the smoke that was threatening to annihilate her delicate lungs. A frightening giggle left him as he leaned closer to her body.
“Look at how feeble the human is! What a fascinating species.” He lost his excitement when Oima tried to move her arms to help herself up from where she lay among the wreckage. “Humans are still stupid enough to fight for their unimportant lives even if Death is staring at them. How predictable.”
A piece of the roof caved in and crashed in an area close to the three people, causing Oima’s eyes to widen in fear and the dark-haired man to cringe slightly before shouting out to Karl to hurry up.
“Now, I’m really starting to think if I should bring her or not…” Karl sighed before moving to walk away from the female whose mouth opened in a desperate cry that ravaged her throat. His eyes turned to her before rushing over to place his boot directly on her throat. “Why should I bail her from this ungraceful death?”
“I would suggest that you make your decision quickly since the house is about to fully fall in!” the dark-haired man warned, cautious eyes looking at the shuttering structure. “There are about four floors, so it’s not going to be pretty-”
“It’s more than likely that we will survive. Stop worrying so much, Richter.” He cocked his head to the side before adding, “The same cannot be said for her. Perhaps this whole trip was for nothing-”
Richter made a soft and displeased sound at this before turning to leave. Oima’s mind was racing at this point, trying to figure out what she had to do to be given a chance. Her voice ripped through her throat once again, further damaging it, just to emit another harrowing plea.
“P-please!” Oima’s voice wavered and broke in the air, which was punctuated by the crackling wood around them. Richter turned around to look at her and his brother, who removed his shoe from her neck and cocked his head.
“Fascinating,” was his simple answer before gathering the girl up in his arms and following his brother out of the building, right as it crashed. As soon as the three were safely out, Oima was thrown roughly onto the ground, causing her breath to leave her body.
“She’s not a very pretty thing, is she?” Karl’s lips were curled with distaste before turning to look away. “Do you think she is going to be able to make it back to the carriage without help?”
Richter moved closer to the girl, close enough for her to make out his red eyes that looked at her marred legs, and his mouth turned down.
“I will have to say no to that,” he murmured as he looked up at his brother, who offered one last look at the girl before turning to walk swiftly away, in the direction of the carriage. A heavy sigh left Richter as he looked down at the girl. “What happened to you?”
Oima tried to open her mouth to speak, but instead of words, she spat out vermillion blood. Richter’s body tensed up as he moved into his jacket pocket to pull out a handkerchief, moving to wipe her blood from her chin. Stuffing the ruined material back into his pocket, he gathered Oima’s body in his arms before hurrying after Karl. Oima took one last look at the mansion that was once her home, melancholy setting in. Oima’s mind returned back to reality when she was carefully laid on a plush cushion in the carriage with her head reclined on a lap; she presumed it to be Richter’s.
“I don’t understand what she did to warrant this much luxury,” Karl said before moving to stare out the window, focusing on the landscape.
It was only when the carriage began moving at a leisurely pace that Oima allowed herself to let go of the outside world and drift into unconsciousness.
---
A sigh left Cordelia’s body as she listened to a maid ramble on about her duties as she helped her mistress into her form-fitting dress.
“Isn’t it a maid’s job to not chat up their mistress?” Cordelia asked, moving to examine her fingernails as the maid’s hands froze while lacing up the side of the dress and inclined her head to look at Cordelia.
“Yes, ma’am. However, you gave me the order to talk whenever the two of us were alone together,” she softly said as Cordelia’s brows raised to look at her honest face in the mirror.
“Oh yes, I remember now…” Once again, a sigh racked the woman as she moved to clutch at her arms. “It’s been painfully boring ever since my husband and his brother left so I’m glad that you’re here to amuse me, my dear.”
“I’m glad that I’m here as well, madame!” The maid’s eyes lit up when Cordelia gave a slight smile at her remark.
“Sometimes I wonder if it’s only because I've saved you from your old life or my company.” The purple-haired woman giggled behind her hand as the maid took a moment to think before answering.
“I will not lie that I am relieved that I am working in this household rather than back then. Although, I have grown to love my time with you, Madame Sakamaki.”
“Please, just Cordelia,” the woman interjected before moving to turn back around. “I have to ask how you got yourself into that situation though, Verda.”
“My parents, miss,” was all that Verda said before focusing back on finishing with the dress. Her cheeks blazed when she noticed that her mistress’ flaming eyes were focused on her in the mirror.
“You’re telling me that those people knew what that sorry excuse of a person was doing to you?” she coldly asked as Verda ducked her head in shame. “Don’t look like that. It’s not your fault, darling.”
“Yes, they knew…” Verda quietly answered before busying herself with the task, completing it, and hurrying to the vanity to retrieve the hairbrush. “What hairstyle would you like today, my lady?”
“I would not like my hair to be done up today,” Cordelia answered, watching the maid nod and moving to gently brush out her flowing purple locks. Their minds moved to their own respective places as Verda mindlessly carried on a one-sided conversation.
---
The man that had been hitting at the young girl was now a bloody sack of meat, being stomped over and over by a woman’s high-heeled boot. The lady, who had broken into their house, savagely hissed out curses at him, as the girl looked on in relief, of all things. Despite the fact that the woman had killed a man and was continuing to decimate his corpse, her entire person calmed her.
She had been the daughter of a noble family, primped and preened for the moment where she would meet the man of her dreams. When she had married her betrothed at nineteen, she would have never thought that six years later, their money would be near gone and he would dissolve in an alcoholic mess that would take out his frustrations on his wife.
The woman took a deep breath before turning to the younger girl, who was still cowered in a corner. Her purple hair was streaked with red droplets and her dress was practically ruined. The young girl found herself a bit sad about the waste of such a beautiful material. When the lady offered her a hand, she gladly took it and was pulled up off of the ground.
“I’m going to ask you a question,” the woman spoke, her lips pulled down in a heavy frown. The girl found herself getting upset at how unhappy this lady appeared to be. “Was any of what he did to you deserved?”
“No!” the girl immediately answered as the woman roughly took her hand and peered at her eyes intensely. The purple-haired lady relaxed a bit before letting go of her, letting it hang by the girl’s side.
“What’s your name?”
“Verda Harrett, ma’am,” the girl answered as the woman tilted her head, her lips turning up the slightest. “I will do anything to repay you. Thank you so much!”
“Well, I do have an offer. What would you say to becoming a maid in my household?” The woman paused for a moment to gauge Verda’s reaction before continuing, “Of course, it will be strenuous. The estate is rather big, at least to me, and I have many requests for my servants. However, that will be the tip of the iceberg of paying me back. Now, what do you say?”
“I would be obliged to work for you, Madam-”
“Cordelia. Cordelia Sakamaki,” was the woman’s curt response before she turned back to walk out the door, leaving the stunned girl looking after her. She stopped at the doorway and looked back at her, brows raising at the girl. “Well, aren’t you coming, love?”
At this, Verda hurried to her feet and rushed after the lady, leaving behind the mangled corpse of her husband. She never once looked back, instead looking after her mistress. Cordelia pulled off her ruined glove and placed her hand on Verda’s light blond curls to guide her towards the carriage.
---
Looking up from her book, Cordelia was met with a maid rushing off towards the front of the house. She snapped the tome shut and called out for the girl.
“Yes?” she answered, bowing her head as Cordelia asked her where she was going. “The master is coming back so we must prepare.”
In moments, Cordelia’s eyes lit up and she was rushing to the mirror. Verda, who had been stationed nearby the entirety of the interaction, put her rag back into the bucket and dried off her hands on a towel. She moved toward her mistress and helped her with smoothing out her dress.
“I should have chosen a more elaborate hairstyle,” the woman mourned as the maid finally finished with making Cordelia a bit more presentable for her husband.
“Don’t worry too much about it. You look beautiful nonetheless,” Verda assured her before Cordelia nodded and scuttled towards the front door.
The purple-haired woman was met with the sight of the two men with a new girl in Richter’s arms, her mouth dropping open slightly.
“You were complaining about how the mansion was becoming dull so I decided to get you a pet, my dear,” her husband explained, gesturing towards the delirious human that was still nestled in Richter’s arms.
“Why does she look like that? Did you pick her up off the street?” Cordelia asked, brow raising as the girl moved slightly. “Oh, look at that. She’s still got some energy about her.”
“We found her in a burning building and rescued her out of it. She will be in our debt for the rest of her natural life.”
“How in the world did she end up there?”
“We have no idea. Now, can the maids ready a bedroom for her? She is getting heavy,” Richter replied before shifting her in his arms.
“Yes, sir!” called a servant from behind Cordelia’s shoulder, scurrying off to do just as he had requested.
---
Everything hurt when Oima opened her eyes to the world as a red-haired woman leaned over her and dabbed at her face with a damp rag. She shushed the younger girl when she tried to open her mouth to speak.
“I would not suggest that you talk. It will probably cause substantial damage to your vocal cords. My name is Vivian if you’re curious,” she murmured as she dipped the rag back into a bowl of water. This action happened for a few minutes before she gathered up her materials and nodded her goodbye at the girl. “If you need me, reach over for the bell.”
Oima shakily brought her hands up to her face and surveyed the bandages that were wrapped up and down her arms and fingers. Bending her fingers caused her stabs of extreme pain, but she still tried to persist with the small hand exercise. The remains of an expensive dress that had clung to her body were now replaced with a simple white lace nightgown. Shutting her eyes for only a minute, the girl drifted back into unconsciousness. This day would mark the rest of her life.