~Dessa~

Once Dessa had successfully managed to dress herself, she didn't feel as proud of herself as she had when she had maneuvered her way into her uniform for The Den. Aside from the fact that this dress was much lighter, and there was no corset or petticoat to accompany the outfit, it felt decidedly wrong to wear something so nice. She felt inexplicably guilty to possess something that seemed so expensive, and so very ostentatious. At least for the waitress job, it wasn't really a choice, and the dress wasn't actually hers, despite it being tailored to her measurements. Even still, putting it on should  have made her feel better. Dessa was never one to show much skin, and she had always preferred to hide her too-thin body with hoodies and formless sweatpants. Those clothes were her armor against the world that would judge her body as insufficient. But this gorgeous lavender gown was not armor. If anything, she felt more naked than she had just wearing the damn shirt. When she put it on, it seemed to fit itself to her petite frame as if magic was woven through the fibers, to give the dress the ability to form to her shape like it had been made for her. She didn't need to look in a mirror to know that regardless of it fitting like a glove, such a dress wasn't meant for someone like her. She was a pauper pretending to be a princess, and it was such a blatant lie. The only thing that consoled her was that the long sleeves covered the symbol on her arm. She couldn't remove it from her skin as far as she knew, but at least she wouldn't have to see it for the moment.

The last  fucking thing that she wanted to do was be seen in such a dress, especially by a man - and a Fae man, at that - but she knew that it was unlikely that he would let her linger on the other side of the room for the rest of her miserable life. So trying to shove down the guilt, embarrassment, and fear, she tiptoed around the partition. To her surprise, the beast was using the closed trunk as a makeshift table, and he was spreading out food across it like he expected her to join him for a picnic. You can't be serious?   She wanted to ask, her mouth falling open slightly.

Without glancing up at her while he arranged the food, he asked,

"Are you hungry?"

Oh. My. God. No!

Dessa's mouth snapped shut and she wanted to throw herself in the fire all over again. She hadn't even thought about food until that moment, she hadn't had a chance to realize that she was terribly hungry. In her nightmare. She was never hungry in her dreams. No, no, no! This couldn't be real, though! This couldn't really be happening to her. None of it made sense! She had to be in a coma, right?

"No," Dessa lied too quickly.

She remembered what Auntie had told her on more than one occasion: Never eat or drink something a faerie offers to you. You would never be able to leave their world, if you did. At the time, Dessa was a teenager, and she had thought that her aunt was metaphorically trying to warn her against human danger, intending for her to be cautious of someone drugging her and locking her up in their creepy basement. She didn't want to find out if her aunt was right about partaking in such things in this imaginary place. It already felt like she would never escape this world, but she couldn't risk the possibility of sealing her fate. How could the woman know about all these things? Had she had dreams like Dessa's? Had she ever met a Fae? Or was she just a crazy person who had read too many books about the magical creatures, like how Dessa had begun to think of her as she got older? She would never really know the truth. Short of a stupid séance with a Ouija board, she had no way to ask Auntie the questions that she should have asked back then. She had always avoided asking any  questions, and had always hoped that those haunting conversations would end sooner rather than later. She knew that if she had asked anything, it would only cause her aunt to ramble more. Dessa was always eager to change the subject as soon as she could do so without upsetting the woman. Now, those unwanted, ominous warnings were the only things that Dessa had to defend herself with here.

"No?" The Fae repeated her answer back to her with an inflection of disbelief as he turned his gaze away from the banquet. Those eyes could see right through her, and she stiffened when he looked her up and down without an ounce of subtlety. His face remained blank and stoic, but his white eye glowed brighter. Dessa couldn't hope to lie again with her lips - not with him staring into her eyes like he was, so she just shook her head back and forth. Her traitorous stomach growled audibly, and she gulped down the panic as his gaze flicked down to her waist.

"Eat," He commanded with an edge of frustration in his tone, rising from his kneeling position, his shadowy wings fanning out behind him, as if she needed any reminder of how devastatingly powerful he was. "I assure you that there are much easier ways to kill you. I don't need to trick you into ingesting poison. I'm sure you've noticed that you're still alive, so you should be able to deduce that I intend for you to stay that way."

It wasn't poison that she was worried about, but she couldn't argue with the monster. She couldn't refuse his command, no matter how moronic she would have to be to listen to him. Some sick part of her wanted to do anything he asked of her, without question - wanted him to pat her on the head and tell her that she was a good girl for obeying him.

Fuck, Dessa! What the actual fuck!?

Why would she ever imagine something like that? Still, she went to sit on the floor by the trunk, and peered down at the food. It didn't seem to be laced with any sort of dark magic. It wasn't resonating like it had been enchanted to entrap her. The bread was golden brown, and appeared to be baked to perfection, and he had sliced a few pieces for her with one of his claws. There were a couple different types of cheese laid out on a very thin cloth, and beautiful, ripe-looking cherries. It made her mouth water just to look at the meal. She didn't even know how long it had been since she had eaten. Time seemed so irrelevant in this place, where morning never came to grace the land with precious sunlight.

With trembling fingers, Dessa took one cherry, pulled off the stem, and popped it between her lips. The flavor burst in her mouth, and only then, did she realize how thirsty she was. The juice coated her tongue and slid down her throat, and her eyes pricked with tears that she refused to shed. When she was this hungry, everything tasted like she was trying something for the first time again, and the flavor was ten times stronger than it had any right to be. When she removed the cherry pit from her mouth and swallowed, she pinched the pit between her fingers, not knowing what to do with it. She nervously glanced up at the Fae man who was watching her intently. Without a word, he held out his hand for her to give it to him. She stifled the whine that threatened to squeak out, feeling like a little kid in school who had to spit out their half-chewed wad of gum into their teacher's hand, so the teacher could throw it away. Wincing slightly, she dropped the pit into his palm, careful not to touch his skin. His lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh, but he didn't so much as smirk. He turned toward the fireplace and tossed it in. Why hadn't she thought of that? Ugh.

Next, she broke off a small chunk of cheese, and it took everything she had not to thank him for making her eat. She had never been overly fond of cheese, especially the hard kind, but in that moment, it was tastier than birthday cake. She immediately went for a piece of the bread, and as she held it in her hand she inhaled the familiar aroma. She felt a sudden, heavy pang of sadness, because the smell of freshly baked bread reminded her of Hans, hard at work in the kitchen. If she would have known that she would possibly never see him again, she would have hugged him tightly and told him how much she had grown to care for him. As she took a bite, the Fae man left the room again.

Like she had when he went to answer the knock on his door, she felt a magnetic pull that made her want to follow him like a little puppy, but she forced herself to stay put. She should be glad for every foot of distance between them, even if it was only granted to her with a fleeting impermanence, but instead, she felt her stomach turn like she was afraid that he would leave her and never come back. It had to be Stockholm Syndrome, or some sort of fucked up curse that had been written on her soul, when she had been branded with that symbol. Though, she knew in some way, that it was always a part of her very being, to resent the feeling that she was abandoned, and left alone. After her aunt died, the loneliness had eaten Dessa alive, and with every day that she had spent in that house by herself, it was harder and harder to deal with. Once, about six months after her aunt's meager funeral, she wasted her last couple dollars to ride on the public transit bus, just so that she could pretend that the people that were forced to sit next to her were people that had chosen to spend time with her. She imagined that they were her friends or her family, and it soothed that ache inside of her chest that constantly reminded her of how terribly alone she was in the world.

It was pathetic, of course. But it was more than pathetic for Dessa to crave this monster's presence, despite the fact that he scares her half to death.

What is wrong with me?