CH 5

Her head hurt.

Badly.

And if the cold hard surface her head was against was not enough of a clue on what was going on then nothing else would be. She eventually decided to take a look around now, sure that too much time had passed for her liking. She had at least been right about something; her torso was also on the roof. Oh, was that a sight not to behold, your body cut from you and plastered onto a wooden ceiling. She wondered if she could move them, and quite surprisingly they did, but they did not fall. She wondered if the fall her head made from the short stool next to her was adding to the daze of sleep. She could hear chuckling from outside the room, and instantly her brows were frowning. The mage must have seen her in the pitiable state she was in earlier on, and must have come to check on her once more. Well, she was awake now at least, so it was best to get the hellscape of a day he had in store for her over with.

"The floor has taken your interest, has it?" the slimy tone he carried really was something she was growing to hate as his feet came into view.

Her head was off of the ground in an instant, his fingertips deftly moving aside stray hairs from her face. He even held her head out seemingly to get a better look at her. What again for she did not know. He was infuriating now. T even chose not to say anything now out of spite, and to her relief it cut his fun short. An eyebrow of his twitched once before he made the room stifling again and suddenly she was toppling on the floor once more, though she was somehow able to... brace herself?

What?

"Take the garb I have acquired for you," he muttered as he made haste to leave like last time, but left the door open. "You have work you know,"

T rubbed her elbow once she sat up, looking beside her to see a pile of black cloth. Again, predictable colours. She stood up and lifted whatever it was to look at it. Surprisingly it was only a cloak. She thought it was going to be much worse, though all the same, she was glad it was just that.

One would wonder why she would not have already tried to book it by now considering she was put back together. Her arms and legs were, yes, now back in their normal positions, and her head was on her person once more. Though she was practically a headless chicken prior it did not mean she was about to act like one. Firstly, he was much too casual about the situation. He was certainly sure of himself that she could not get away. Why would she want to make more of a fool of herself by trying to escape already? And secondly, her apathetic levels were reaching an increasing high, so her position was hardly affecting her. Was it enough to say she was cool in such a dire time, or just absurd?

Also, her body was feeling compelled to obey him. Perhaps he put something on her? It was the only obvious option by now.

She could only shake her head now that she was granted the option again, and just put on the cloak. It was musty and uncomfortable. The design on the lower part at the front was beginning to fade was what she noted before moving out of the room. She could tell that it was the next day, roughly close to midday. The stench of herbs were blatant in the air as she exited the hallway she was in, and she was back out into the open space where it seemed to be this man's work area. The texture of parchment and carpets could be felt beneath her feet, showing that he did not even bother to clean up.

He was already at one of the the tables, hastily moving a pen across one of the unrolled sheets of increasingly long papers. His frustration clung to the air, and because of who she was, she could feel it. She patted at the cloak which covered the dress she wore, all the way down around her bare ankles. What could he be writing? Was she the cause of his frustration? Had they met normally the other day, would he still be like this? She did not know.

"I know you are not going to simply stand there and stare for the entire day, right?" his piercing gaze cut her once she made eye contact.

Just the side of his face was visible as he watched her from across the room. His legs were too long on his stature, and his position on the somewhat short stool he was one did not look comfortable with him huddled over the table. He almost appeared hunchback the way he was.

"Clean this room," he waved a hand as he went back to his writing, signalling for her to get started.

T held herself back from groaning before she went to do as he asked. Was this really what she was reduced to? Granted she was technically a servant. A servant for a being that did not treat it's subjects well. A being that resided in her no less. It was why she looked the way she did after all, or why she even existed; it helped to blend amongst humans and not to raise suspicions. However, she had gained a semblance of independence and had strayed from her initial purpose. Hence why she shuffled around at home most of the time, if not all of it.

But at least she kept the place relatively tidy enough, not like what this room was like. Each time she moved papers out of the way she just discovered more to clean, such as ink stains and whatever the substance was that was smeared into more that one of the carpets. Just what did this person do in his time here?

She could hardly complain; perhaps these were what went along the lines of having to atone for doing wrong to him. She did breach his surroundings after all, so until she was done here, only then would she be free. And oh, how she longed for that. Freedom was something someone like her needed. What he was doing was against everything the atoms of her creation went against. Though, she also wondered if she could even ask for help after all this. It almost made her pout to add to her frustrations.

"Supplies can be found further down the hall," she spoke up after she finally got the floor cleared up.

She wiped her hands together to rid anything foreign that might have clung from her moving things out of the way, and she groaned before moving along. It really was a dark hallway; it was the daytime though for the mage it seemed that was light enough. She turned a few corners before finding a wooden door ajar. Inside was a broom, so she guessed this was his storeroom. Upon her stepping in a candle was lit aflame. Possibly enchanted? What did she know, she was no magic practitioner.

Her eyes glanced around for one swift moment before landing on something.

A head of a man.

Encased in a glass cube.

CH 6

Her eyes remained fixed upon the unmoving body part, unsure if it even had eyes of its own to look back at her with. After all, it was wearing a pair of sunglasses too dark to see what they were hiding. It was hard to tell what hair colour the head owned, seeing as the orange light the candle flickered made it appear orange. A sort of flat hat donned the head from what she can tell, but it also seemed heavily personalised. She could hardly tell what it was supposed to resemble.

Normally seeing such a thing would make anyone be struck with deep shock and confusion. T however, as a reminder, was not normal. She was hardly human after all. But she was beginning to lay down several questions like one. Such as why was there a head in glass casing? And why was it in this room? A storeroom no less, perfectly set in the middle of the room, upon a red cushion. Was it aesthetic? A trophee?

Furnishing?

"So do you plan on staring at me all day?" a voice sounded soon after.

It made her eyes twitch wide for a split second. It came from the head, obviously. It even had a brow raised.

"That's the second time I've heard that line," she sighed, recalling the mage's earlier comment.

"I'm not surprised," the head cocked to one side, as if it were not detached from it's body at all.

"So you are alive?"

"This isn't a run-off-the-mill magic show you're seeing, woman," the tone was now almost condescending.

"I should know, for I've experienced it myself," she said sharply, making the head flinch.

"What now then?" it smiled nervously. "What plans do you have?"

"I came for this," she held up the broom nonchalantly, and the head rose it's eyebrow again.

"The archmage is hiring maid service now?" it spoke its thoughts. "Usually he would just make one of us do it. Unless... you aren't doing this willingly, ain't ya?"

There it was. It seemed this head knew a lot more than it was willing to let on, but unconsciously did anyway. It knew the mage was what she could come up with, perhaps well. Was it human though, because it did not seem very frightened by it's current situation. In fact it seemed tired and wanted to be free like she did. Her eyes were lingering on the display again, and the head took note of course.

"Forget about it," she looked up. "You touch this and you'll get us both into some serious trouble, and I'm sure you don't want that, right?"

"How did you know, eh?" T feigned with a barely noticeable hint of mock ignorance.

"It appears you lot are getting along famously," that familiar voice was close yet again, and T's grip on the broom tightened instinctively once she turned her view back to the mage.

"I wouldn't say that," the head said from inside the glass.

"Why do I get the nagging suspicion that you have spoken too much?" the man's eyes were darker, and the head flinched especially this time.

"I-I can pr-romise I didn't, archmage," it attempted to get itself off the hook, but it proved pointless.

"Hmph," the mage shook his head before turning around. "Well, I think you should help the woman with the daily duties,"

"Damn it!" the other cried in defeat. "But... I think there might be a little problem, yeah? Such as... my head still in here?"

"Don't fret now," the mage shrugged before walking away. "He should be here soon,"

CH 7

He?

Who was that man referring to?

T tried to ask him but he was already leaving the room, instructing her to take the head and follow. Being ordered around so much like this from a stranger was starting to lose its humour ridiculously fast. She removed the casing and brought the head into one hand and walked out, it spouting something about being careful or the other. Now she just stood in the still messy work area for the mage, who was back at his table, resuming whatever he was writing. Her mind began to wander then.

Just who was supposed to be coming? Was it another mage? Were they even human? She was beginning to question why she had so many questions by now. It was frustrating not having clear answers on anything. All she wanted was to be at home, letting the day waste away rather than be where she was. It was truly a bad choice to have left her room that morning...

THUD.

A dull but loud noise sounded from outside, and the head in her hand made groan of annoyance. What were these strange occurances? Then she saw a person's silhouette from one of the windows. Well, two of them after taking a proper look.

"Good grief," one of them seemingly scratched at its head. "Without it you just knock into just about anything,"

"Could ya make my body go in the direction it's supposed to, moron?!" the head was beginning to fidget.

Another head poked its way into the open doorway of the building, an aviator hat atop it. The man seemed surprised to hear the voice from within.

"Ah, you're here already," the man moved fully into view, and with him he tugged a headless body cautiously padding at the walls. "Sorry about that, but it isn't easy moving this stupid thing around,"

"Stupid?" the head of the headless man teeth were grinding now.

"Well, you are reduced to this after all," the other shrugged.

Then his eyes finally landed on T. Strange he did not notice a person literally holding the head he was speaking to. Though his cap perfectly shadowed his eyes, it was obvious he was eyeing her from head to toe, and he eventually stopped at the insignia emblazoned on the black cloak she was wearing. He too appeared just as perplexed at her presence as the head did.

"Er, archmage-?" he spoke up but was cut off instantly.

"No questions, just reattach Shachi," he lifted the fountain pen before going back to work.

The man looked back at T helplessly before simply shrugging his shoulders in defeat before taking the head of the presumed 'Shachi', successfully reattaching it to the body. In the proper light she could tell that he indeed had ginger hair, and he was already stretching his body and making sure his head was in its proper place, as if confirming that it would not fall off if the sudden, stifling blue air had anything to say on the matter. Afterwards he then threw his hands in the air as though he just overcame a trial of sorts.

"Hallelujah!" he cheered. "I'm back in one piece!"

"You still have work," and with that, he physically seemed to deflate.

"You're almost there," the other gave a friendly pat right before Shachi shrugged it away.

"At least I'm not in that pedestal anymore..." he grumbled lowly before moving over to T and snatching the broom from her, quickly getting to the chore.

"That does not mean you are let off, you know," the apparent 'archmage' stood up and walked by her as he went outside the building, seeming to be fetching the other man.

T ran a hand over her face before stalking back to the storeroom in search of other cleaning apparatuses, and she of course did. It took the rest of the day just for the two, herself and the man, to finish cleaning the one room. It did not help having another hand as they did not know how the other operated, and they bumped into the other frequently. She was slowly beginning to grow annoyed of this Shachi.

.

Several flames twitched back and forth to light the darkened room. Night had approached without one ever being able to notice. Shachi was on the floor snoring while the mage had returned to his writing. T was sitting cross-legged on the floor against a wall far from them, trying to piece together her thoughts. As expected, it proved a waste of time. It never worked, no matter how many times she tried. It was always better for her just not to think on some things, anything in there could be finalised that way for her.

"Return to the room you left this morning," the mage was standing in front of her. He had moved so quietly that she could never have known he moved.

"No food?"

"Do not think we are at the same level here," he moved his head to one side as he looked down at her.

"Do you expect me to work without some way of keeping me alive?"

"Are you truly alive?"

This comment threw her off.

"You do not seem terribly upset at the threat of no sustenance," he crossed his arms, resting his chin on a raised finger. "Which makes me wonder about you,"

He had her with that. Just what claims did he have on her exactly. Perhaps he really did know about her and what had happened to her. After all, even though he hardly spoke, it was his voice she heard that beckoned her to step foot in the forest at all. Or at least, she thought it was. She was beginning to actually hope it was, too.

"If you search enough, you can find the kitchen," he stated. "But do not bother tampering with anything. I would know,"

She wondered if he would have tortured her by not giving anymore information had she given him a more predictable reaction. Like begging. Granted she wondered if she was even peculiar at all to him. Most people in her time called her as such with any strange situation she found herself in. She could possibly be some new form of entertainment. After all, she was still 'alive'. T decided to let the matter rest for now before standing. She walked over the sleeping man on the floor to begin locating said kitchen.

She chose to start with going down the hallway which led to the storeroom but her foot caught in one of the loose floorboards, and with that she came crashing to the ground. A very particular emphasis on the word crashing.

Ooze seeped freely from beneath her head where it had connected flat on the floor, and the mage stood wide-eyed from behind her still body.