Omen

[furo]

For a reason that remains yet unknown to seemingly everyone, humans tend to find solace in false beliefs. For instance, believing that someone’s always got their back; believing that things just cannot get any worse; believing that love will always find its way; believing in God.


Oh, believing that the Devil’s child is a boy.


“We may not pay Satan reverence, for that would be indiscreet, but we can at least respect his talents,” said once a famed author and humorist, who went under the pseudonym Mark Twain. And it just so happens that the spawn of Satan does indeed read Mark Twain.


Today, June 6th 1936, Chalice Willow Ainsworth was turning thirteen years of age, and was also visited by he who claimed to be her real father. He was tall, mighty, with stoic complexion, of garnet hide, and wore a suit. As bloodcurdling as his demeanor appeared, Chalice stood unflinching.


Through the large casement windows of the bedroom, ruthless flames could be seen engulfing the mansion, casting a radiant orange sheen into the room. Chalice remained undeterred still; the ferocious flames provided her with a familiar warmth.


“Ah, my beautiful daughter,” he began, placing jagged lengthy fingers under the small girl’s dainty chin, leaning closer, peering at her youthful features with fond eyes, “sweet child of mine, let take a good look at you.”


Although in stupor, some deep within Chalice’s core told her she already knew. Even being aware that she was the beloved foster daughter of the Ainsworth family, she knew.


“I have a task for you – something you were born to fulfill.”


And it was Chalice, the same innocent little girl that roamed within the walls of the Abaddon Manor with the most endeared of gaits; the same gorgeous girl whom everyone in the household was so fond of; the same kindhearted girl who knitted warm sweaters and scarves for those in need during economic woe of the Great Depression; the same guileless girl who knew nothing of disobedience or impudence.


However, what nobody seemed to ever have perceived is: it was Chalice; the same innocent little girl who never laughed, who never spoke; the same gorgeous girl whose eyes were two pure rubies and could pierce into your soul should they stare too long; the same kindhearted girl who’d rather tear off her skin inch by inch than read a single word from the Bible; the same guileless girl who was born in room 666 at the Hillsdale Memorial Hospital.


It was her, and no other, who was going to destroy the world.


The family and staff were utterly shocked by the misfortune that beheld the next evening. After cutting the birthday cake and terminating the mingling while, the celebration came to a closure, and the staff went back to their last-minute duties before being dismissed for the night. The old Abaddon manor’s butler, Sinclair, was walking across the lobby towards the stairs, where sleepy Chalice awaited to be escorted to her room, as he carried large trays with an array of gifts placed upon it.


Sinclair had halted to pay heed to his master’s orders, who spoke to him from the doorway leading to the corridor. Chalice’s eyes were fixated on the chandelier hovering watchful above them, unwavering. What brought a sensation of burdensome fault upon the birthday girl was that, just in the right moment –when her father had turn away and headed off, the tubing of the chandelier snapped, unclasping its intricate arms and letting them fall onto the senior butler.


His brittle body lay lifeless underneath shattered crystal and disarrayed ornament, and Chalice’s unfeeling eyes simply stared. She was motionless, albeit not startled in the least. Sinclair had been the Ainsworth family’s butler ever since before Chalice was even alive, and the young mistress was undeniably fond of him, but she was not taken aback, or hesitated –this being that we assume it was her.


What did faze her, admittedly, at least a tiny bit, however, was to witness Sinclair’s son, Travis, whom she’d known ever since she can remember and was quite fond of as well, during the funeral a few days later. The entire family and staff were there, along with other close relatives of the Rozenburg family. The sky was painted silver, and dull rainclouds slowly approached, threatening to drench over the city and the hills. The day was dreary; it was imbued with melancholy and deep sorrow.


That day –June 11th –Chalice lingered as close as possible, still not too close to come off as clingy, to Travis, who seemed to be the most grievous. She even tried to take his hand and squeeze it for a moment, inconspicuously, but he happened to turn away that same moment.

 

[SilverBlack]

"Remember, my child, our duty is to serve the Ainsworth family for as long as we live."





That one line once again repeated in his mind as Travis gravely watched the people placed the soulless flowers on top of the wooden coffin in the center of the ground, mumbling their solemnest prayers. His expression was stern, pale in color, as if matching the gray clouds of the silver sky.


The incident happened so sudden it took a while for people to catch up, including he himself. The mystery behind how the chandelier that appeared to have no problem beforehand just abruptly fell down when his father was below it has yet to be explained. Travis could only recall the shock he felt upon realizing that he had just lost the most important person in his life within a flash of seconds when he learned the new.


Everything that happened next flowed automatically--Travis took his father's place as the family's butler, the originally cheerful atmosphere created by Chalice's-- young mistress of the Ainsworth family--13th birthday vanished and quickly replaced by such gloominess too much for anyone to bear. The funeral went on with the depressing prayers and songs, and the young butler's mood worsened day by day. It appeared that the only thing that remained unfazed is the innocent, calm look Chalice always wore. From time to time, it unsettled Travis, but perhaps she was shocked by everything too, perhaps she's just having troubles expressing herself. He means, she's been like this ever since he got the chance to know her. And ever since then Travis hasn't really minded, and this time he decided not to, either.


The lad let his grieve sink in as the funeral continued, his mood too down to be aware of the young mistress's attempt to hold his hand and squeeze it. Tears fought to scroll down from his eyes but he struggled to stop himself from weeping, feeling the responsibility starting to weigh on his back now as the new butler of the household. He didn't have time to cry--he's pretty sure his father wouldn't want him to waste his time crying for him either.


Humans are weak when it comes to controlling their emotions, many let their feelings take over their actions. But Travis won't, he's trained enough not to, he's developed into the person he's wished to be. Perfect as his father, except sharper in senses.


--


Time passed by quickly after the funeral; with the Ainsworth household trying hard to get the family back into the ordinary, peaceful lifestyle they should have had. Everybody appeared to be forcing a smile on their faces, and the morning greetings came off unnatural, even the maids failed to do their job properly as usual. Ironically, Travis became one of the only reliable ones in the entire house, making sure everything is done as perfectly as possible, that each meal is not one second late; that each room remained clean and tidy, documents sorted nicely on his master's desks. Every single knowledge of his father was passed down to him so easily and quickly, his way of working so nearly identical to how the senior butler would've acted, it's as if Sinclair has yet to die.


However, every single time he passed that golden chandelier hovering above him, that shining surfaces indicating it's new, the memories of his father would come back up. Then, his eyes would narrow, watching the flickering dim light the chandelier emitted. In his mind he would feel the sorrow, but day by day he felt a sense of suspicion growing up as well, for his curious question of how a perfectly fine chandelier would just suddenly fall down onto his father has never been answered. But what could it mean? That it's no accident? But that would be impossible. For what reason would anyone hold a grudge against his father?


Travis would shook his head then, and headed off to his destination.


Tonight, which marked one week since Sinclair's funeral, went on regularly as well.


Dinner was long finished, most family members had decided to return to their rooms. Many lights were already shut off, and Travis seemingly made the closure of the day as he checked through each windows and doors, securing it and making sure it's locked. After doing so, he headed off to the light switch to finally cover the house in pitch blackness except for his candle in one hand by closing the chandelier's light.


What caught his attention, however, is the young mistress--Chalice, still wandering there, near the corridor. This girl has always fascinated Travis, ever since he was first brought to the household. She has a beautiful face, always so still and calm. It came off as elegant when Travis first met her, but over time he also felt a sense of mystery from her. Either way, he found her likable, interesting, adorable even. What stopped him from getting close to her then, is probably that weird feeling of distance he still get from her, that he should never just approach her like it's nothing. Although Travis often wondered why he feel that way, he is at least determined to know he should not trust anybody fully, not even the Ainsworth family, no matter how loyal he is to them, or how well or loving they treat him to be.


"Young mistress, what are you doing here? I believe it's time to bed," as he thought so, he slowly approached the girl. On his face wore his usual, light and gentle smile. His voice softly echoed against the walls of the quiet mansion--it's not high, nor deep, a bit lighter than that of a viola, that is.


(Lol I'm more horrible at grammar and writing skills than you I hope you don't mind QwQ)

 

[furo]

Destroy the world.


That had been what her father had entitled her. And she would gladly comply.


Chalice was meant to destroy the world, and she yearned for it.


The young girl snapped out of her reflections once the new butler cautiously calls out to her, as she stands with a trance fixated on him from one corner of the wide corridor, the deep authentic rubies that were her eyes boring into him sharp as a stake. Amongst all this, however, she managed to look just as guiltless as always.


Once Travis reached his young mistress, she allowed him to escort her to the bedroom.


Chalice recalled her first meeting with the brunet to have been five years ago, in a humid autumn afternoon. It was only logical she remembered it so vividly – she was the spawn of the Devil himself, after all; nothing slips her grasp, she forgets nothing. Sinclair – may his soul rest in Paradise, as empty as that blessing might be– had introduced his son to the Ainsworth family in a Remembrance Day (November 11th) celebration after Earlene suggested he attended. Chalice remembered how well he got on with the house staff and pets, being mighty polite and charming as he proved to be. She also remembered how subtle his fingers were as he assembled to poppy wreath to be laid upon the field of remembrance. Travis was, all in all, a guileless lad who only sought for peace.


Too dull for Chalice. She knew Travis would only interfere. She was going to dispose of him, eventually, but she would succumb to the decorous mercy of finishing him off last; he was too young to die so soon. She’d give him enough time to appreciate his life and acknowledge his fate.


The senior Rozenburg butler would always leave Chalice’s sleeping garments neatly folded upon her queen-sized dosel bed every night, but Travis hadn’t adopted that habit. She forgave it, though, empathetic of the dismal state that befell him after his father’s tragic passing.

 

[SilverBlack]

Travis glanced quietly to his side as he walked the young mistress to her bed, his mind replayed the moment Chalice turned around to look at him after he called out to her, those sharp, deep gaze he received on top of her guiltless innocent face caused him to frown even for a tiny moment.


How unreadable, he couldn't help but thought. For a child her age.


The sense of mystery that has always resounded around the girl behind those calm expressionless face of hers often aroused Travis's curiosity, but he usually decided not to interfere. He's not in the mood for so anyway, the grieve he has for his father had yet to pass away. Watching her as he escorted her to her bedroom, he noticed that he has forgotten to leave her sleeping garments to neatly folded upon her bed. A careless mistake, a habit yet to adopt from his father. Travis reminded himself in his mind to remember doing so the next night, although he wondered how Chalice would respond if he chooses not to adopt the habit to do so.


He wished, however, that everything would return normal, so normal and identical to the life they had before when the senior butler was alive that people, especially he himself, would not feel the emptiness of the lack of presence of an important existence. Travis wished to replace his father's role so perfectly nothing would be out of ordinary, and he knew that he's doing it right for now.


Praying secretly that nothing more tragic would happen to break the once-again peaceful lifestyle he had so far recreated, he gave a slight nod of goodnight to the young mistress once he watched her officially set for bed. Gently closing the door then, he returned to the previous duty of checking through the whole mansion and shutting down the lights. He returned to his own bed pretty late, finally relaxing himself on the soft white bed inside the dim bedroom.


Upon lying down and enclosing himself into the darkness of his closed eyelids, he allowed his mind to drift back to the suspicion he has felt after his father's death. It's so unpredictable, Travis found his awareness of his surroundings increasing day by day, catching any possibilities of how each object within the household could commit a possible murder. An empty wish was given them, to the God he has often questioned about his existence, for no more deaths to occur.


If only his wish could come true, at least.


--


The next day soon arrived with the usual routine of waking up early than anybody else to prepare for his master and mistress's morning. The house was cleaned thoroughly, chefs woken up to make the delicious breakfast, the warm sunlight beaming through the clear glass windows, brightening up the mansion. Travis made sure to pile up the paper-works for his master to do and had the morning tea set ready as he prepared to wake him up. Two guests coming today in the afternoon, both close relatives and important business partners. Travis checked the food-list to make sure it's enough for a wonderful dinner.


Everything gone successfully as planned as the house soon surged with energy for a new day, everyone doing their best in returning to their old regular lifestyle. A satisfied expression could be secretly seen as he watched everything going on, then blinked for a moment.


Ah, he has not yet seen the young mistress today, has she gone out of bed, or is he supposed to wake her up under her father's order?

 

[furo]

Chalice had woken up before curtains were drawn and the residents rose to engage in their morning routine. The very faint sapphire light of dawn crept through the drapes and spilled over the desk by the wall, where the red-eyed girl was seated. A gold and scarlet fountain pen scribbled rapidly yet smoothly across the pages of her journal. She wrote, wrote, and wrote that morning of late June. Harmoniously, that morning, Chalice, most to her convenience, was not interrupted. Was it mere chance and coincidence, or had it been something else –something unnatural? Predisposed suitability, perhaps. Today, when it was most convenient for her not to be discontinued, she wasn’t.


Chalice Ainsworth was woken up at quarter past eight every day, without fail, except for Sundays, when she was allowed to sleep in to her liking. Today, needing a few additional minutes past the usual wake-up to finish her first journal entry, she was spared that time. It couldn’t be chance.


As the motley feast for breakfast, prepared with love by the endeared Italian chef, Biaggio, was being served by two of the maids and the young butler, the household master frowned in doubt.


“Where’s Chalice? Is she awake?” Denham asked, first referring to the young butler who was pouring him a second cup of Earl Grey, and then glancing to his wife, Earlene, sitting by the head of the table as she took a bite of a hash brown.


“I haven’t seen her, dear,” replied Earlene, shaking her head with a small smile.


“The Lyntons will be visiting today for lunch, and Hughes will arrive today at eleven o’clock, if I remember correctly.” Denham took a big sip of his tea, “She’s probably going to want to be dressed and ready by then.”


Caspian Hughes, Denham’s Conservative Party campaign manager for his position as Member of Parliament in the House of Commons, would visit the manor at least twice a week to discuss political matters with Chalice’s father.


The Lyntons, however, usually visited on leisure (just as the Ainsworths visited them), since they were old friends of the family. Chalice was very fond of them, especially of their son, Timothy, who was a year older than Chalice. He was a very charming boy, and showed genuine concern for


“Oh, is young Tim coming? That would do Alice mighty good after such dreary week; they haven’t seen each other in a while,” added Earlene.


“Ah, no, they said Timothy’s lessons begin at ten thirty, so he won’t be able to come,” Denham denied, cocking his head slightly with infliction. “Did you wake her up, Travis?”

 

[SilverBlack]

The breakfast was prepped perfectly well, and the butler inspected everything as his masters settled down for the meal. He listened sharply to their conversations while he stood quietly by their sides, in catch of any information he might not have known or learned yet of. What they said are information he already marked, the visitors that would arrive at lunchtime and eleven o'clock. He had already told Biaggio to have the ingredients set for a wonderful lunch that would perfectly please the guests, as well as some nice desserts and afternoon tea to offer them while they have their own peaceful conversations alone. In mention of Chalice, Travis let in a breath as his master told that she should also be ready for the visitors. A scowl formed upon himself as he realized he did not make this morning perfect by failing to awake the young mistress of the household.


Upon asked for her whereabouts, Travis's expression remained still as he bowed slightly down to his master, "My apologies, I should go call her now. I believe she should be awake already." A thought passed his mind that he would now be grimaced as a failure for making such mistake as to not knowing the schedule when to wake the mistress. However, the butler simply determined to make it up with future perfectness as he replayed the time when his father was the butler. Travis confirmed to himself that Chalice could not still be asleep as such a sharp girl who should already be woken by the morning noises and chatters echoing against the mansion. Her expression might always remain blank, but her brain surely not--or so the butler thought as he walked down the hallways to her room, not forgetting to correct some of the maids who have been cleaning the floors and surroundings wrong.


A light knock was given on the door as he finally reached the bedroom, and the lad cleared his throat before he let out a call, "Young mistress, have you awakened? It is time to come down for breakfast."


A moment of pause followed as Travis waited for a response, but as an instinct he decided that she should be awake by now. Although another question arose as a new butler if he is supposed to help her get dressed, he decided to trust her and her intelligence on suitable clothings.


"Please get dressed properly as we have guests today, and be ready to come out," the butler added in the end, and waited by the door for the young mistress, as to ensure when she comes out that everything are as he desired.


(sorry if the reply is a little short, I'm really busy with homework and projects and all QwQ)