Viktor asked her to walk with him. Not with a leash, not with chains, not with threats. Just a question, soft and unexpected: "Would you like to walk the grounds?" Ayoka hesitated worrying about her child safety while she was gone,but Sabilne gave her an side glance and spoke up first "I shall get her ready for the walk,Master Viktor." Viktor nodded his head and started to walk out and Sabline does an sigh and motherly tone:"Your lucky that he finds you intersting,Cher."
Ayoka nods her in agreement and start to get ready for the outing.Sabline was watching the child as he sleep and Benoît stood half-invisible in the corner like a curtain shadow. She glanced toward the window. A storm had passed, and the grass gleamed silver in the weak sun.
Sabine had dressed her in something bold—an experimental design she claimed warded off shadows. The fit was tight, almost theatrical, hugging Ayoka's figure in ways that made her feel both regal and restrained. Layers of velvet clung to her hips while the bodice lifted her chest with no hint of subtlety. "Well," Sabine had muttered, adjusting the final strap with a grin, "that fine bosom and backside of yours will have the whole house tripping over itself. You'll catch up on all the time lost."
Ayoka's makeup shimmered in delicate motifs—birds mid-flight and slender vines curled like spells—painted carefully across her cheeks and temples. She looked like a symbol of something forgotten, something sacred. She didn't know what ritual she was being dressed for, only that it wasn't hers. And so she took comfort where she could: in the small magical fan she slipped into her corset. The enchanted piece pulsed gently, a portable breeze that soothed her under the tight gown. It was her hidden luxury, her private magic. This wasn't for her. It was a role, a test, a gilded lie—and she had learned long ago how to live inside someone else's story.
Ayoka looked into the mirror and paused. She had never worn anything this fine—this powerful. She was used to being dressed like a porcelain saint, all purity and softness, forced into the image of meekness. But this? This was something else. Something closer to a goddess than a ghost. Even if she was still trapped in a dollhouse, at least this wasn't the look of a gentle lover. The thought of being made to look soft again made her shiver.
Behind her, Sabine was tending quietly to Malik, humming as she adjusted his blanket. Benoît lingered at the edge of the room, nearly indistinguishable from the folds of curtain and shadow. Outside, a storm had passed. The grass beyond the warped glass shimmered with silver as if the bayou itself was holding its breath.
Then came Viktor's voice, smooth and direct. "Why is she dressed like this?"
Sabine turned with a calm expression and answered evenly, "Because I didn't want her to overheat in those thick silks, Master Viktor. And the stitching is spelled—for protection. You know how the marsh shifts. There've been more sightings lately. The couvrefeu beasts are creeping closer to the edges."
Ayoka's brow lifted slightly. She'd heard of the couvrefeu—swamp-stalking creatures with soot-colored scales and mouths full of teeth that glowed like lanterns. They'd once been whispered about as bedtime threats, but in recent months, even the bravest house boys no longer strayed past dusk.
Viktor nodded, but his eyes lingered on her longer than necessary before stepping away.
Ayoka adjusted the magical fan tucked into her bodice and murmured to herself, "Not the look I chose... but at least it breathes better than virtue."