Roses and Secrets | Harlan, Sirocco, Sereya

   
   It had been long since she had shared her secret haven with anyone.

It was a circular room filled with roses and the smell of old paper, perched on top of a quaint little tower in the manor’s most forgotten wing. She had gotten used to sneaking away at any hour of night and day and wandering the dusty corridors with barricaded windows and black velvet curtains hanging off the ornate frames of numerous paintings. She knew which one of them hid the flight of worn-down stone stairs that led up to the room where she and Rosalie had spent their happiest hours together, as much as she was slowly forgetting what this painting looked like when it was covered all these years ago.

The filly had kept this room a secret from even Harlan and Sirocco for a long time. She clung to any drop of solitude – any privacy she could get without feeling the presence of another. She had come to regret the way she had worried them every time she disappeared when they were both torn away from their home to join the labor force.

The first thing she did when they returned was to share with them this little secret of hers – opening the door to her inner life a little for them. They had only gone a couple of times since. While the room was locked away from the rest of the manor through a secret mechanism, staying inside was never eventful – that was the whole point. A small, peaceful haven where golden light pooled abundantly through pretty windows, where she could read and write to her heart’s content. Yet somehow, her slaves appeared to be nervous about the room – Harlan especially, which amused her. The stallion certainly did not like keeping secrets from Rosalba or anyone for that matter – and much less being himself hidden away. Sirocco did not seem to mind usually – but Sereya could not help but notice the mare was tightly tucked by Harlan’s side, watching the fireplace intently. But then again, these two had acted quite strange ever since they came back – it was likely their days spent in the Dark District had not left them without scars.

“At ease, both of you.” She chuckled, bright green teke carefully closing the book she had been reading, comfortably lounging among luxurious cushions. “I’m not sure what concerns you so, but at least sit down with me.” she says, looking up to them with half a smirk. “I promise we’ll get out of here before dinner, don’t worry.”
Part of her wanted to be reassured, however. Something felt off – yet it was not the room, this was her safe space. So why did the feeling not leave?

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WC: 455| Post # 1