Chapter five: Game Start

Familiarity is a funny thing. Waylen could choose to ignore the problem at hand, ignore all the little discrepancies, and indulge himself. Hatred, happiness, impulse, feelings foreign to his state of being. Contentment is all he's ever known. Apart from Chess, Waylen had nothing else. She is his everything. This new profound feeling is welcome, anything to keep the sadness at bay. For when it pools up at his beating heart, he'll have no choice but to give into the pits of hell. With that, "Red" he shouts. 

An intense gaze remains fixed onto the silver haired man, from his ruby eyes to his bare chest. The way his long slender fingers flail around as if he was improvising, warranting more of the mocking stare directed at him. 

The caretaker stands off to the side, half concealed in darkness. His crinkly lips pull up towards his chilled nose. His breathing slows, completely comfortable with the atmosphere he fostered. Nearly everything is falling into place like a favorable game of chess.

Waylen didn't even know what is going on, yet he felt as if he could give this speech better than him. Perhaps wishful thinking on his part, or something is truly off with the silver haired man. Other than look like a suicidal fool, Waylen couldn't do anything about it anymore. 

Seeing the scary expression on Waylen's face, the caretaker practically shoved Xavier off the stage, taking his place. 

No finger flailing happened as the caretaker spoke. Every word is calm and concise, as if he has done this dozens of times. A skill that seemingly accompanied his old age.

"With that, let us eat." He announces, pointing to the table now properly set. 

A small gust of wind blows through the courtyard, ruffling the caretaker's neat appearance, simultaneously chilling the faces of the residents. Each of their cheeks is now a warm, rosy color, apart from a girl in yellow.

No signs of the cold are apparent on her figure. Even her blonde hair managed to stay put together. 

Xavier almost laughed, if it weren't for the image, he had in front of the resident's he would have done so. Though The Estate certainly isn't favorable towards him, it didn't call bullshit as soon as he walked out. The caretaker hadn't bothered to explain the rules, not that it mattered. It wasn't as if anyone could go anywhere. All it takes is time.

Waylen reluctantly sits at the table; he should be hungry. He knew he hadn't eaten a thing in days, yet his body hadn't yet screamed at him. The air smelt strange, like metal, and the maids of red looked noticeably paler. He made an executive descion, to not consume the food. Especially when this god-forsaken estate can cook for him. However, he'd still prefer to do it himself. That way, he could be certain as to what enters his body.

A glass of a red liquid is served to each of them, each by a maid in red. After all the drinks had been served, a plate of food was placed in front of their faces. The only thing smelling right, being the mash potatoes. The meat smelt dead and the bread looks stale. The other food in the center of the table, would require asking for help and an entirely different plate. Not to mention the likely scenario of it being contaminated. The whole thing made him want to vomit. Xavier didn't touch it either. 

Xavier sat next to him, without the courtesy to ask. He instantly whispers to one of the maids in red, giving orders. The way the light instantly returned to her eyes, made Waylen question everything. Nonetheless, she had come back with two cleaned plates. Waylen thankful accepted the gesture, not letting it show on his pretty face. 

"Is it poisoned?" Waylen asks, watching Xavier make him a plate of new food. 

"I mean, you'd live little amnesiac." He says quietly, in a voice only Waylen could hear. "The caretaker will make you eat." Xavier explains, scooping a serving of fruit on the plate.

"Why?" 

"Not everyone has access to a kitchen, Waylen." Xavier stupidly points out. The whole estate straight up gives him "special" treatment. 

"Why can't we starve to death?"

"You tell me, Mr. observant." Xavier finishes, before shoving a spoon full of fruit in Waylen's mouth. 

The wind didn't blow. Nobody looked up. Even the caretaker seemed to be mildly distracted after the wind played with him for a bit. Each too busy slobbering over the food provided to pay attention to anything. Filthy pigs.

The sweetness of the fruit hitting his tongue, stopped all negative outbursts for, he disliked the feeling of choking. Like an obedient prince, he willingly accepted the bite. An action nearly out of character without considering the context. 

"To play with us for as long as possible." Waylen answers blankly, almost robotically. Not a single ounce of human emotion could be picked out. 

He himself knew that statement isn't right. Before today, he wasn't at the mercy of The Estate. Every day he attended public school with his sister before coming back to a peaceful atmosphere; up until everything fell on its head. 

Xavier looked at the thing he caused, and the spoon in his hand. Everything he had just done had the opposite of the desirable affect. So he did it again, gently removes the spoon from his mouth to feed him another mouthful. 

Meeting those almond eyes is almost a curse. From afar they look pretty and innocent, but up-close you could see the hatred they bore. What might be taken as a romantic gesture is being used to be little Waylen. It's only fair in the eyes of Xavier. 

Reaching for the spoon, Waylen snatches it away to finish eating the plate of fruit. This could be poisoned; he had every right too. Waylen smiles sweetly, his eyes taking on a different look. 

"I swear to god, Xavier Lucis, I will kill you." Waylen vows, holding the spoon to the man's neck.