We have by this time strolled fairly far into the gardens, with the sounds of the party dying away behind us, replaced by the brief showers of bright birdsong, scattered over the soft breath of a light summer wind upon the leaves of plants and trees, the distant sound of moving water. It occurs to me that I do not quite know my way through Luce's gardens - he has a tendency toward a labyrinthine model of structure, and delights in having visitors (himself included) truly lost in the surroundings. It is mildly amusing, of course, though I feel it is not always desirable. To each his own, I suppose.
        The sound of water grows louder, and a delicate stream appears, winding its way between flags and falling over stones which sparkle in the strong sunlight, which filters in intricate filigree through the leaves overhead. The breeze rustles lightly through the leaves of willow trees, and, I realize, also the leaves of birch trees.
        "It seems we have found our way nearly to the grove I was thinking of earlier," I muse. "Do watch for a slim figure stretched out tiredly on a divan in some shaded corner - that will be my dear Veri, whom I ought to introduce you to."
        "Is he as kind a listener as you are?"
        I chuckle. "Not really. He... oh but we are all selfish. He is merely a bit more subject to moods, and to physical discomforts. His... he has a few old wounds, which trouble him rather often."
        "I see. But it is no matter, really, I feel I have said quite enough for one day, you really are too kind."
        I restrain a laugh. Kind! Oh how little the dear thing sees, for all her possible ability.
        "Meres? Is that you?"
        I smile and lead Cerise down a faint path that leads away from the stream and, passing between large bushes of gardenias, into a dense grove of white birch trees. The light is soft here, filtered by the many leaves, the breeze gentle and the shaded air soothing. The palette of colors in this space is limited, and thus quieting to the eyes as well as the ears, only white, medium greens, and a few slight shades of carmine and rose. The divan has been placed just beside the large, many-colored leaves of a caladium, accented by plumes of astilbe.
        "Veri, darling, how are you feeling?"
        "Tired, but this is quite a lovely place to rest awhile."
        Cerise has let her hand fall from my arm, and she stands shyly to the side, uncertain of what to do. I move toward Veri, and lean down to brush a bit of hair gently back from his face. "You do look a little better, I am quite glad. Would you like some company?"
        His brow furrows, and I frown to see him so troubled. "I should like to be alone, it was good of you to come all the way out here but..." He looks over at Cerise and purses his lips tighter together. "I'm really not in the mood."
        I sigh and shake my head, gently patting his hand before straightening up and turning back toward the girl. "Do come see me before leaving Luce's, darling, will you?"
        He makes a non-committal sound, closing his eyes and slumping back into the divan. I shrug and take Cerise's hand, leading her silently away. She looks troubled, and I know she thinks she has caused him some offense without intending any, but of course she hasn't, he is only feeling sullen again. Oh but he makes me feel so tired myself! I should explain this to her but I haven't the energy.
        "Do you think you can find your way out of the gardens on your own, child? I am weary, I do not think I will return to the party."
        She draws breath sharply, taken aback. "I... I suppose so. Yes, I can. But... do tell me, have I done something to offend you? Or your friend?"
        "No, no," I reply vaguely. "Nothing at all. I am simply... I am tired. As was he, the heat of the sun seems to have wearied us both today. Do go on and enjoy the party, dear, you haven't done a thing wrong."
        She hesitates a moment more, then turns back toward the rose garden. Her walk is slow at first, but soon picks up speed - whether she hurries away to hide her upset emotions, or has shrugged off our tepid responses and is eager to return to more pleasant company, I do not know. Nor, really, do I care, I have lost interest for the moment. Perhaps I shall find her later.

        I do wonder that my spirit has so dulled... I suppose it must be from seeing Veri still so melancholy. Yet why should that trouble me so?
        ...oh, I know the reason, I have tried so to forget but the reason is that I have tried to forget. I was in no pleasant mood today. Are any of us ever? There is no true joy left to us, only the dull shadows of physical pleasure...

        I move farther into the gardens, searching for some spot that will please my unfocused eyes, that will cool my heated forehead, that will soothe with gentle breezes the aching scars on my back. I enter into a heavily shaded place, where the branches interlace close over my head, and the heavy scent of wisteria sublimates the summer air. I hear someone whistling - whistling! How common, how tiresome, who should be so blasé as all that in a place as this? I feel sullied by the very lowness of it, though it comes not from myself. I follow the sound, and find a young man leaning against a tree, idly looking up into the branches. He is dressed as the servants Luce had present at the party.
        "Why have you left your station?" My voice is a low growl, threatening. Instantly he turns his gaze to me, startled.
        "I... I was no longer needed, really, there was more than enough help and so I thought..."
        "You thought to shirk your duties. I am sure Luce would not take kindly to hearing of this."
        "With all due respect sir, would he---"
        "Of course he would believe me!" I snap sharply. "Whyever would he take the word of a mere mortal over that of... of one of us? And do not think for a moment that he would let you off with a mere warning, or a verbal reprimand..."
        "He would discharge me, of course, I understa---"
        "You understand nothing. You would be lucky to leave with your body as lovely as it was when you arrived, if you left at all."
        I will give this one credit, he scarcely flinches, though I can see every muscle in him tense. "And what concern of yours is this?"
        I smile slowly, cruelly. "Why, darling, I should hardly be a true and loyal friend to dear Luce if I gave you a chance to slip away unnoticed. I ought to bring you to him myself. Only... only it wouldn't do to interrupt the party, he looked to be having such a lovely time. It wouldn't do to spoil the fun for him. But what then to do with you? I suppose I could shut you up in the house, but, really, what is the fun in that?" As I speak, I move closer to him, and before he can pull away I grip his arm tightly in one hand - a hand all the stronger and harsher now, for the gentleness of its touch upon the girl's skin. "Oh, what to do with such a one? I suppose I shall have to keep an eye on you myself, I can hardly trust the duty to some mere underling, and I shouldn't like to ruin the party for anyone else. But I can hardly be blamed for entertaining myself in the process, can I?" I lean close and flick my tongue lightly around the edge of his ear. "Whatever shall I do with one such as you? I find myself quite unable to decide, there are so many possibilities..."
        His lip curls and he cannot help but squirm, trying to writhe away from my touch, from the nearness of my skin. Oh, I shall take my time with this one! The party will not wane until long after dark, and it is only mid-afternoon now.

        I have drawn closer to her, though I had not noticed so. In fact her companions are looking at me, and I ought to make some remark by way of introduction... Ah! but I know one of them after all, splendid.
        "Nila, darling! I wondered where you had gone to. We hadn't seen you in quite some time."
        "Not far, never far, especially from a party so well-arranged as this."
        "Our host is quite the artist," one of the young men interjects.
        "Ah, but you should see the parties Meres holds," Nila replies, with a smile toward myself. "The arrangements in which he lives each day are quite breathtaking, in their beauty and exoticness. And that is nothing to thee tableaus he creates for company!"
        I smile broadly, sweeping one arm wide, less in gesture than to show the details of my jacket. It is embroidered most cunningly with some thread which seems black, until it is moved, and the light catches at a thousand jeweled tones which suddenly appear in patterns of breathtakingly intricate detail. There is, as I had intended, a slight gasp of surprise, followed by astonished and admiring laughter. Yet the girl smiles only softly, her eyes seeming far away.
        "But Nila, you simply must introduce me to this charming young woman. We have not met, I think."
        He smiles, an expression filled with pleased cunning. "You have not. This is her first visit to one of our soirees, I invited her myself."
        "I should have guessed! You always do find the most interesting people to have us meet."
        He bows slightly, grinning. "It is my contribution. While you bring the artistry of exquisite setting, I bring the artistry of personality."
        There is another round of pleased laughter (as there always is) from our companions, yet the girl remains silent.
        "Nila! Does she not speak?"
        "I speak," she says softly, her voice so gentle and sweet that it fills all the space of the ranges below our loud, boisterous speech.
        All are quieted, so as not to overwhelm the beauty of her gentle tones. I smile broadly, and bow low, taking her hand in mine to gently kiss. Her hands are so small and delicate! Though they are gloved, I know by the smoothness of her arm that they would be delightfully soft, as gentle as her voice. I lift my eyes to hers, and she gazes back... and I feel as though her strange eyes of winter skies see far beyond the mere surface of my self. She shifts her gaze to a point just beyond my shoulders, following a slow path out from there---
        I could swear she is looking at my wings! My wings, oh, but how---
        "Oh see the funny bird!" she laughs aloud, and we are startled by the difference in her laugh. There is a brightness to it, a quality of some indefinable, luminescent thing, which we have not heard in so long...
        But we turn to look, and see some bird with exquisitely long and bright plumage, perched on a weeping cherry tree at some little distance. It is hopping from one branch to another, fluttering up in startled confusion as the branches, too slim to hold its weight, droop away beneath it. We chuckle in amusement, but my heart is still shaken by my assumptions, though they were misplaced.
        "Dear child," I begin again. "Have you enjoyed your day here?"
        "I am no child," she rebukes sharply, and I smile to see her confidence. "I shall be sixteen in a week, though I am slight for my age." Her eyes are no longer distant, but sparkling and focused... though they still hold something farther off in their depths. I am certain that is what led Nila to bring her here, it is quite an intriguing mystery.
        I almost wish not to define it, for then she would become no more than one of the many roses which decorate the stage.
        "But you asked my thoughts on the party," she resumes, her delicate fingers brushing a few loose strands of hair from her face. Her lips are not painted scarlet, as those of the other women, but are a soft, slightly shimmering pink, as cherry blossoms kissed by morning dew. "It is... oh I don't know. It is interesting, of course, I am hardly bored. But I seem to be out of place. All of the women are so sensual and voluptuous, while I am a mere sapling, with no shape to me at all, and hardly the experiences of a coquette at flirting so gracefully."
        "Oh, but Niles delights in odd juxtapositions, my dear," I answer smoothly, offering her my arm. "May I borrow her, Nila? I find her quite soothing to the eyes."
        He laughs lightly, shooing us away with a wave of his hand. "Oh away with you! You are forever a thief, Meres."
        "All art is theft, did you not know? But I shall return her before the day is out."
        We stroll away, and some jest is made, for the loud laughter billows out behind us, seeming almost to propel us away into the meandering paths of the gardens.
        "You know, you have yet to ask my name," she remonstrates. I should almost think her rude, her tone is so inappropriate for speaking with a superior! But she is young, which causes all faults to be forgiven. And so I smile, and ask her name.
        "Cerise Walker. And yours?"
        "Have you not heard it already?"
        "Of course, but is it not impolite to use it without invitation? Perhaps you would rather I call you by your surname and whatever honorific is most appropriate."
        I laugh aloud. "Cerise my dear, you are quite an odd mixture of mannered and rude. You have switched from one to the other with every sentence I have heard you speak."
        She smiles ruefully and seems about to apologize, but I wave a hand to prevent her. "Darling, you are young, it is forgiven. And I find your company interesting, which is more than I can say for many others. But yes, you may call me Meres."
        She nodes in acknowledgment, then looks at me, with a steady, thoughtful gaze, her eyes again gaining that strange depth. "That is not your real name."
        I stop still and stare at her, surprised and unsettled. She did not ask, but stated it, as a fact she was entirely certain of, as casually as one might mention that the moon is full one evening.
        It is a long moment, before I find words, and can attempt a nonchalant manner. "And what, pray, might lead you to think that?"
        She shakes her head, the mystery in her eyes clouding over and receding. "I do not know... I simply feel it is not your true name. It is the same for Niles. The names simply don't match the person I see, there is some disconnect that I cannot explain."
        I begin walking again, though more slowly, deep in thought. My voice is slow and... oh not hesitant, but distant. "There is no use in me attempting to deny something you already know... especially something that you know the same certainty as, as one knows something to be beautiful, or ugly... Tell me, dear, are you a seer?"
        She looks puzzled by this. "I am not certain what you mean. I see, I have vision, I am not blind..."
        I smile gently at her. "Ten I see your talents may be untrained. Do you often have such strong intuitions?"
        She shrugs, and plucks a bit of honeysuckle from a trellis we pass beneath, twirling it idly between her fingertips. "At times. I don't often speak of them; they always upset Father so."
        "And yet you speak of them to strangers."
        She laughs, with a bitterness far deeper than one would expect from a face so fresh. "You, unlike he, will not go into a rampage, screaming at me for the sins of my ancestors. As if it should be my cross to bear, that my father's mother found other things more important than spoiling his every childhood whim."
        "And this relates to your, peculiar insights?"
        "She had them, too. Father hated it. He says she became more and more entranced by what they revealed, and she became a witch, or something akin to that, and left her family behind. Though by then he was more than old enough to care for himself, and his father was quite well off.
        "Oh but I ramble so! I must be boring you, I do apologize."
        I laugh and pat her hand, which is still holding to my arm. "Not at all, my dear, I am quite fascinated. I see it was not solely for contrast that Nila brought you to us. I must tell you that he makes it a habit to know, usually in advance, the entire family history of every person he holds a single conversation with - a bit of an obsession, with him, really. But I must say that your father sounds to be a terribly unsympathetic man. Is he always so harsh with you?"
        "He was, but is no longer," she answers lightly. "I have left his house, and stay with the family whose inn I work at. Waiting tables and fixing dinners, mostly, though a bit of cleaning, and entertaining the customers, being the pretty face about the place really."
        "I see - a wise choice on your part, to leave, though I am certain he did not think it to be. Your grandmother... you have never met her, then?"
        "Never, though I often wish I had. Not only is her blood seemingly strong in me, but anyone who my father does not get along with, I assuredly will."
        "And you do not begrudge her gift to you?"
        "Not at all - I only wish I had more explanation for it. You say that I am a seer?"
        "Perhaps... it remains to be seen, really, the extent of your abilities, but I am certain you do possess something unusual. If you would like, I do know of a few persons... in that area of study, who might be able to guide you."
        She pauses a moment, then smiles warmly. "I should very much like that."
        I wonder if it is merely in rebellion against her father, or if she truly wishes to hone an ability which should mark her as an outcast of polite society all her life (and perhaps even beyond that.)