"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Dr. Rex." She moved into the office slowly behind the short, slightly balding man with large framed glasses, and stood in the doorway, foot tapping a bit nervously as blue-greys roved over the office, pausing on the desk and the nameplate. "Dr. Oedipus Rex." She cracked a bit of a smile. Someone's parents had had a sense of humor.
"It's not a problem Miss de Vernon. Would you like to take a seat?" As he settled down in his chair, Cassie took a seat on the couch, hands holding in her lap for the moment, still shuffling her feet around on the floor absently, taking several moments to get comfortable.
"Sure. I guess I just, what, start talking?"
"Start anywhere you feel comfortable."
"Okay."
She took a deep breath and remained silent for several moments, sifting through her thoughts and trying to arrange them in some sort of order. "I guess it kind of starts with my birth. Well, before that even. See, my father left my mother pregnant and alone. So right off I was already guaranteed some problems. My mother moved back in with her family. Being her brother and his wife and their son. Now, one thing you must know about my mother's side of the family is that they are nobility, and they are rich, and they know it. So I imagine that when my mother came back to them, unmarried and very pregnant, they were a bit dismayed. And then my mother died from an infection five days after my birth. And that left me with them, and I imagine they were further dismayed.
My uncle treated me well enough, he was always kind. My aunt, well.. I suppose she did the best she could for the type of person she is. Home was never fun. My aunt seemed to think of my as a thorn in her side, though I tried so very hard to please her. Nothing I did was ever good enough though. And then, there were the other things. The things that got me marked as more than human. Or, less, if you were talking to the people there. My hair was absolutely the first indicator. No one has purple hair. Not naturally. Whatever my mother had lain with was not normal. When I got upset, sometimes things fell over that had no one near them. Or sometimes things exploded. Strange happenings that did nothing to endear me to my aunt or the rest of society. The vicar was convinced that I was the devil's get and generally scared the hell out of anyone who would listen to him long enough when he got onto the subject of me. My cousins were certainly afraid of me, when they weren't tormenting me.
One of the few people who treated me with any sort of kindness was my uncle. He wasn't unkind, but he didn't see what went on beneath his nose. There were even moments of affection. Also, there was one other relative, a great-aunt, who took a liking to me. But I saw her perhaps three times in my life. She didn't care for my aunt or my cousins. There had been one other person who'd been kind to me. An old groom in the stables who'd known my mother and liked her. When I was young, four or five, he began teaching me to use knives. Odd hobby for a horse groom perhaps, but that and horses was all he had to teach me. He'd also known my mother used knives. Since he'd been the one to teach her as well.
My aunt and uncle couldn't control the rest of the people around. Things got out. When I was ten, I learned why the adults gave my aunt and uncle looks of pity when I was the topic of discussion, and why they gave me looks of contempt. Why their children left me out at best and tormented me and physically abused me at worst. The maids were gossiping, not an unusual occurrence, and I was the topic. They kept using the word "bastard" and I looked it up. 1. A person born of unmarried parents; an illegitimate child. 2. something irregular, inferior, spurious, or unusual. I never forgot the definition from the dictionary. There were other definitions as well, in other dictionaries. None of them flattering to me.
I sometimes tried to practice with the... Special abilities I have. Usually it just ended up with me collapsing, exhausted. I had not, and still really haven't, managed to draw back to me the energy that I, I don't know, throw, to do whatever it is I do. I also discovered, quite by accident, that I can, I don't know, teleport? I really have no idea how to describe the things I can do. One day, I think I was around eight, I was running from some kids and I managed to hide around the corner, but they were going to come upon me, it was only a matter of moments. I had my eyes squinched shut and I just wanted so badly to be in the attic, my favorite hiding place. And I opened them, and there I was. This, I never told anyone about, and I managed to never do it with witnesses. It's how I got here, actually. The best I can put it is that I walk the planes. I worked very hard to make sure these things did not happen in public, or at least, as little as possible. I'm also blessed with more strength and speed and better senses than most humans, but I worked hard to pretend I wasn't. Were it not for my hair, which everyone in the town knew about, I might have managed to pass. I still would have been scorned as a bastard, but things might not have been so bad. But I guess it's something I'll never know.
When I was sixteen, I found a box in the attic. I'd been up there to escape my cousins, a place I hid out regularly. The box I found was way in the back. It had 'Stephanie' written on it. Inside I discovered many of her things, but the journals were perhaps the most important. They revealed my origins, my father, to me. They also let me get to know my mother in a strange way. Also inside were a silver cross on a chain, and another silver chain, with a silver sapphire and diamond ring. The last of the important items were eight knives. Six made specially for throwing. It all belonged to my mother."
She stopped there, and glanced at a clock, eyes widening at how much time passed. "Oh goodness, I really didn't mean to stay this long, Dr. Rex. I have quite a few errands to run. But uhm. I'll be back, I think. Thank you"
With that, she stood, and hurried towards the door.
"It's not a problem Miss de Vernon. Would you like to take a seat?" As he settled down in his chair, Cassie took a seat on the couch, hands holding in her lap for the moment, still shuffling her feet around on the floor absently, taking several moments to get comfortable.
"Sure. I guess I just, what, start talking?"
"Start anywhere you feel comfortable."
"Okay."
She took a deep breath and remained silent for several moments, sifting through her thoughts and trying to arrange them in some sort of order. "I guess it kind of starts with my birth. Well, before that even. See, my father left my mother pregnant and alone. So right off I was already guaranteed some problems. My mother moved back in with her family. Being her brother and his wife and their son. Now, one thing you must know about my mother's side of the family is that they are nobility, and they are rich, and they know it. So I imagine that when my mother came back to them, unmarried and very pregnant, they were a bit dismayed. And then my mother died from an infection five days after my birth. And that left me with them, and I imagine they were further dismayed.
My uncle treated me well enough, he was always kind. My aunt, well.. I suppose she did the best she could for the type of person she is. Home was never fun. My aunt seemed to think of my as a thorn in her side, though I tried so very hard to please her. Nothing I did was ever good enough though. And then, there were the other things. The things that got me marked as more than human. Or, less, if you were talking to the people there. My hair was absolutely the first indicator. No one has purple hair. Not naturally. Whatever my mother had lain with was not normal. When I got upset, sometimes things fell over that had no one near them. Or sometimes things exploded. Strange happenings that did nothing to endear me to my aunt or the rest of society. The vicar was convinced that I was the devil's get and generally scared the hell out of anyone who would listen to him long enough when he got onto the subject of me. My cousins were certainly afraid of me, when they weren't tormenting me.
One of the few people who treated me with any sort of kindness was my uncle. He wasn't unkind, but he didn't see what went on beneath his nose. There were even moments of affection. Also, there was one other relative, a great-aunt, who took a liking to me. But I saw her perhaps three times in my life. She didn't care for my aunt or my cousins. There had been one other person who'd been kind to me. An old groom in the stables who'd known my mother and liked her. When I was young, four or five, he began teaching me to use knives. Odd hobby for a horse groom perhaps, but that and horses was all he had to teach me. He'd also known my mother used knives. Since he'd been the one to teach her as well.
My aunt and uncle couldn't control the rest of the people around. Things got out. When I was ten, I learned why the adults gave my aunt and uncle looks of pity when I was the topic of discussion, and why they gave me looks of contempt. Why their children left me out at best and tormented me and physically abused me at worst. The maids were gossiping, not an unusual occurrence, and I was the topic. They kept using the word "bastard" and I looked it up. 1. A person born of unmarried parents; an illegitimate child. 2. something irregular, inferior, spurious, or unusual. I never forgot the definition from the dictionary. There were other definitions as well, in other dictionaries. None of them flattering to me.
I sometimes tried to practice with the... Special abilities I have. Usually it just ended up with me collapsing, exhausted. I had not, and still really haven't, managed to draw back to me the energy that I, I don't know, throw, to do whatever it is I do. I also discovered, quite by accident, that I can, I don't know, teleport? I really have no idea how to describe the things I can do. One day, I think I was around eight, I was running from some kids and I managed to hide around the corner, but they were going to come upon me, it was only a matter of moments. I had my eyes squinched shut and I just wanted so badly to be in the attic, my favorite hiding place. And I opened them, and there I was. This, I never told anyone about, and I managed to never do it with witnesses. It's how I got here, actually. The best I can put it is that I walk the planes. I worked very hard to make sure these things did not happen in public, or at least, as little as possible. I'm also blessed with more strength and speed and better senses than most humans, but I worked hard to pretend I wasn't. Were it not for my hair, which everyone in the town knew about, I might have managed to pass. I still would have been scorned as a bastard, but things might not have been so bad. But I guess it's something I'll never know.
When I was sixteen, I found a box in the attic. I'd been up there to escape my cousins, a place I hid out regularly. The box I found was way in the back. It had 'Stephanie' written on it. Inside I discovered many of her things, but the journals were perhaps the most important. They revealed my origins, my father, to me. They also let me get to know my mother in a strange way. Also inside were a silver cross on a chain, and another silver chain, with a silver sapphire and diamond ring. The last of the important items were eight knives. Six made specially for throwing. It all belonged to my mother."
She stopped there, and glanced at a clock, eyes widening at how much time passed. "Oh goodness, I really didn't mean to stay this long, Dr. Rex. I have quite a few errands to run. But uhm. I'll be back, I think. Thank you"
With that, she stood, and hurried towards the door.