Abhorrence, Dread, Terror

Forrest was displeased, to say the least, and growing impatient with each stuttering sentence being spat out by the shaking maid with much courage. Furrowed brows, and maybe the beginnings of a scowl on his face, but he made sure to keep his composure. It was still only early in the afternoon, but the jackhammers included in every headache were already doing their fair share of work in pounding on his skull with much vigor. After the stuttering maid gave a brief report, Forrest left his study. Striding down the halls, fists clenched at his sides. He hoped that his maid was simply lying to him, despicable her lie may be, but it'd be better than that news being the truth. Anger would not be right word to describe what he felt. Well, not all of it. By the news given to him moments before, distaste would be the best to describe it all, and humiliation for his dear wife to have had to experience it. It was incredible, the amount of news in the last few hours all regarding one man. One man that could only be described as trouble, in Forrest's book. A severe miscalculation on the old butler's part, if you asked him.

"Master Hockley."

"Speak of the devil, you're here! And why is that so? I'm in a bitter mood because of your foolish judgement and would prefer to see you only if you're telling me you're firing that...rat."

"Only time will tell, Master Hockley."

Forrest laughed. An ill, voiceless laugh, "Fine. Then tell me, oh wise one, just how long do you think the rat will survive, after he so outrageously broke in, and vandalized this manor? Hmm? How long do you honestly think he'll last, and with us being the residents?"

Complete and utter silence follows, and nothing but complete dissatisfaction on the face of the questioner. Forrest clicked his tongue three times before proceeding down the hall, each step nearing the library where he was certain his beautiful wife would be.

…

"Hey! Young sir from the bridge!" The frail boy bumped the back of his head into the tree trunk, letting her see his silver eyes roll in sheer annoyance. Not that it fazed her. It only made her smile widen.

"What are you doing all the way up here?"

"I could say the same for you, young miss."

"Ha! You remember!"

He scoffed, waving a hand in dismissal then dropping it back in place on his thigh, eyes slowly closing. He hadn't planned to come out, in all honesty. The last thing he vividly remembered was lying still and stiff on his bed, (if you could call it that) and staring up at the blank ceiling with a peculiar interest. As if it were its own little mystery, taunting him with great pleasure, being so certain that he could not figure it out. His one thought, his one feeling, as he stared at the bumpy texture of the ceiling, was simple.

"I'm jealous..."

Two wonderfully simple words, replaying like a broken record, the haunting voice singing the simple but heavy lyrics growing louder, clearer. Then, next thing he knew, he wound up in his place beneath a willow tree. Where he was, he didn't know. He had not one puzzle-piece-sized clue as to where he really was nor how he would ever return to the manor. Admittedly, he had no problem being away for a day or two, but he could already picture it...

"HEY!"

He jumped, slowly turning his head with his eyes wide as saucers, staring at the girl who wore another odd expression.

"You must learn to be respectful! My father would scold you for the way you are treating me!" She harrumphed, crossing her arms and all. Even jutting out her bottom lip into a pout.

"And what does your father do, exactly?"

"Hmm? My father is a friend!"

"...what does that mean?"

"It means, young sir, that my father has many connections! Detectives to nobles, farmers and millers, even the miners down by Tamami Tunnel!"

"You mean the dogs by the dump beside that old disappointment?"

The frail boy stared blankly as the girl's eyes dulled down and darkened ten shades or so. She shot up from her seat on the grass and placed her hands on her hips with her brows furrowed and amusing stutters coming out of her mouth.

"W-What are you talking about? Your manners are as terrible as your-"

"My what?"

"Why are you being so rude? The miners are all really kind to me and my father! And the Tamami Tunnel is a wonderful place where all who have been-"

"Have you been?"

"I-"

"Young miss, did you really come all this way, to the middle of nowhere, to give me a lecture of this so-called 'wonderful place', when you yourself have never been? Is this what you have decided to waste your time with, and on this awfully strange afternoon?"

"Well...I didn't come up all the way here to tell you that. I wanted to..."She trailed off. Her fiery attitude dissipating into a sudden timid, unsure one. The frail boy tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, narrowing his eyes when noticing she refused to make eye contact with him. He had noticed that if he looked at her for more than five seconds when they weren't both engaged into a serious conversation, she'd always become shy, which was quite amusing to see as the girl was often energetic and blazing with something he couldn't quite figure out. She intrigued him so easily with her oddness, that he would laugh to himself because of it. In fact, now was one of those times, and he didn't care that she was lifting a brow at him in confusion. At least, the current feeling was mutual.

"What do you find so amusing, young sir?"

"Infinite things, young miss. Infinite. So many that my head cannot wrap around a mere ten of those things..." He muttered the last bit, and stood from his place on the grass, sliding his hands into his pockets. "But I suppose it means they are all meaningless, hence why I shall not waste my time or energy on such trivial things." His lips twisted into a noticeable smirk, and raised his hand to point at her, "You, miss vandal, are no exception."

…

Before Forrest could enter the library, the voice of a stuttering young male had stopped him in his tracks. He turned to see the new butler, the man who created trouble wherever he went, stretching out his arm with a single envelope held in his gloved hand. Forrest narrowed his eyes. The very sight of the young man provoked him, and nothing but pure malice would thickly coat his silver eyes. Still, if he were to be part of the staff, there couldn't be much done. Especially since the old butler was the one in charge of hiring them.

"What's this?" Forrest inquired, snatching the envelope and observing the stamp. One he recognized. A near perfect rectangle of a fine shade of royal blue, with the stamp of two marigolds tied together, the head of the flowers facing opposite of each other.

Oh, what be the right word?

Abhorrence? Dread? Absolute terror?

And what on earth had compelled the devil incarnate to suddenly write him a letter? In the middle of everything??

"Master Hockley, are you-"Forrest grabbed the young man by the collar, his grip making it impossible for the latter to escape.

"Was she the one who sent you?"