Changed: Being An Overseer

[themosttalent]

She'd grown again. Her uniform was straining the seams. How many feet tall was she now? She'd lost track. Enough so that there were new doors she'd have to duck her head to go through.

She really ought to mend the uniform again. Or request another one, even if it felt almost like a failure to. Useless to. She'd just end up growing more again.

She catches her reflection in a mirror she walks down the hall, out to one of the garden spaces. A veritable green giantess, more jolly than she was otherwise inclined to be because of where she was bound. She likes the gardens and wishes she could get sent out there to oversee them more often. She felt comfortable there and she envied the Wizened tending the flowerbeds, the ornamental Fairests. Wished she could be delicate and graceful like them or small and nimble-fingered like a Wizened. Anything but an oversized Ogre.

Two of the Living Statuary had left their pedestals to gossip together. She strode toward them, announcing that if they didn't get back on their pedestals and assume their proper poses for the Keeper's enjoyment she'd beat them bloody. One of them was quick to obey, but the other had decided he'd much rather make obscene gestures on top the pedestal. Ignoring the first of the Statuary, she advanced upon the second, knocking him down and raining down blow after blow after blow with her fists. He was made of metal. He'd be able withstand her onslaught and he'd know better after this. It was a just punishment.

(Was it just?)

She helps him to his feet afterwards, though she doesn't know why. Growls to him that he better not do it again or she'll give him the same back twice-over.

She hopes he listens.

Later—she doesn't know how much later, time moves oddly here—she runs into the Keeper. She's holding a Darkling cellarkeeper by the collar, smacking him around for bringing the wrong vintage to the kitchens. He'd sneered at her before. She remembers. He's incompetent and this is justified.

(Is it justified?)

The Keeper smiles at her. It a beautiful smile. Dazzling. Perfect. It reminds her of... someone. Someone she used to know. She can't think of the name. Truthfully, she can't think of her own name.

Such brutal poetry, the Keeper tells her. Keep up the good work.

Flushing dark against her green skin, she promises she will.