Gilded Cage

House Cyr in Second Life

Inspired by House Cyr built by Lucia Cyr.

Wide wings push downward to give lift, fan out to catch a warm current, and then adjust for wind; in this way he circles the island and House Cyr. His eyes, the color of burnt summer sun, scan the walls and turrets of her home, her prison. He was her assigned guardian, sent to keep an eye on her situation, as it were. The Gods could be cruel but for her they had found a crumb of mercy. Swooping through the floating islands he searches for any other movement on the grounds. The red roofs of each tower accent the crystalline blue windows making this place a work of art. Each intricate sculpture drew the eye. With ease he angles down and settles on the edge of a massive grey, stone wall in view of the upper rose garden. The full moon would call to her and he would be waiting.

Sweet warmth, like that of velvet, seemed to carry her along and cover her with its presence. The dreams vivid and soft; she could not avoid sinking into their seduction. Subconsciously she gives in to these moments. Curled amongst red satin sheets a tiny smile almost graces her pale lips. The amulet about her neck glows with its own light, pulsing with her heartbeat. She must be dreaming of something that pleases her, perhaps her fair painter, or the endless dark fields of her home, her real home.

Violet eyes flutter open to look about her dark room in the place she had to live. Oh to have stayed right where she was, in her dreams of pleasure. The amulet still glows softly against her breast, and she can feel the inner warmth residing there for a bit longer. Bare feet press into one of the plush red carpets that were carefully crafted and placed about the fortress. Azure light filters through the windows of her room. Frowning she feels the pull, there was something…

Quickly she dons a warm gown and slips from her room, suddenly willing to grace the upper world with her presence. Shying away from the throne room she hurries onward she knew not to ever enter there unless an invitation was extended. She had born witness to the results of such trespassing. Old eyes stared down at her from portraits lining the red walls, paintings, idolatry of those with power, those so much older than she. Portals whispered to her but she ignored their temptation. Air, she needed night air, she needed out of the rooms closing in on her.

She pauses only once, at the entrance to the ballroom, its clockwork floor mesmerizing her as if she were a regular toy of those that ruled this place. They call her a guest, she knows she is a prisoner but she is not a mindless servant. Shadows of finery. Parties at a cost. Dark laughter fills the room. Gasping she tucks her arms to her body and climbs more urgently.

One hallway, then another, more stairs, a careless switchback and then the burst of night air blowing back her autumn colored hair as she reaches the garden. Her heart drums against her chest. She breathes in the scent of hedgerows and roses. Sinking her feet into the grass she looks up at the full moon. Then, accompanied by the sound of the stair stepped waterfall, her voice rises in a haunting melody. In the light of the moon she dances, small fireflies join her movements, she becomes unearthly. Violet eyes are pale, her body twists and turns, the music of her voice echoes.

When she explodes from the doorway like some wild creature, he holds his breath, he knew she found her way out of the maze without even trying. They had never fooled her. Black hair, tousled from his flight, teases against his face. Her form is familiar to his eyes. Had it been an eternity, or just days that she was in his care? How many times had he seen her do this, on a night when the moon was full? At these times, she seemed like a nymph, a wood sprite trapped in the body of a damned woman. There she was, dancing, her voice raised in a kind of prayer, her hair and eyes lit like some caged creature. He remembers the first time he saw her this way, the shock that coursed through him. Up to that point he had hated her, loathed that he was in charge of her. But now…

She did not know him, she would never know him. A silent observer was all he could ever be. Invisible chains tied him to her. Through the night he keeps vigil until she is exhausts herself completely and drifts back to her quarters, her gilded cage.


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