Closet stood open, hangers empty, swaying gently from final tugs. Tears staining the carpet, black makeup smudges on the handle of the door. The dresser sits empty, one drawer askew, the surface freshly dusted. The scent of lavender creeps about the room, a sachet left behind for someone elses silken underclothes to scent.

Leather and buckles, whips and cuffs are lovingly packed. The trunk sits, scarred from it's many long journeys, and ready for the next. Misery is seated upon it, like a small, goth bird. Her hands flutter, black dyed silken handkerchief dabbing at stained cheeks.

She is done, she is ready, but she is saddened, too. Valentine had opened her heart and her home, but it was time for them to say goodbye. Misery didn't think she could bear it, so she stood, called for the coachman, and left the rooms while Valentine still catered to the sick fairy in the other room.

She would send word once she found somewhere else to fit in, to assure her Mistress that she was all right.

As she stepped out into the brilliant sunlight, Misery smiled faintly. New beginnings, and she felt good about the change. It was time. Perhaps the right Master was waiting just for her!