1.5.1 : Tales of Summer's End

I look up at my Mistress with wonderment, hardly believing my luck that she has returned now. It has been a rather absurd time since she left once more. Not that her return will bring an end to the absurdity, and not that I wish a semblance of life that is less absurd. That is not, as my Mistress's cycles remind me so often, real life. That is a less-than life, a life which sleeping through seems to be no crime. But she awaits my tale with less-than patience, a sign of her less-than life of the last few months, a knowledge that she has missed more than intended.

"I am not sure Mistress, where you last remember. What season was it then?" I inquire humbly as she settles in next to me more, pale fingers stroking my crest, emotions bared through the intensity of the gentle stroking action. Though it was liable to be a source of pain when we got to that part of the tale, I know it soothes her, and would never request anything so enormous of her such as a release of my feathers. That would be...well, it would be without honor, that is for certain! And as she describes the slow destruction of her last trench coat caused by the acid rains, I understand that it has been longer than even I had realized. The rains are coming again shortly, after all, and they only happen twice a year. And given she mentioned her trench coat rather than her less-than destroyed acid-resistant get-up I had completed at the end of the last Acid Season, I knew precisely where to start.

"Ah, it had been summer then. I am sorry, but the days pass oddly without you, my Mistress. Time seems to flow in a way that is unique to your absence." The compliment treads cautiously from my lips; it was the right choice this time, apparently, because while her features do not relax, she finds the itch at the base of my skull and scratches it obligingly as is often my reward. "The end of the Summer Rains came just as I finished your new coat. I think you will find it much more sturdy when the Rains come again in the coming weeks, Mistress." I take care not to beam, knowing it is humility she prizes most.

A non-committal sound from Her lets me know that I am taking too much time. Cursing my pride momentarily, feeling her fingers leave the itch and work away from it and into my crest, I quickly begin the tale properly. "As the rains left the City again, Ritophe made a play for your open spot on the council." There was a small growl from her throat that was coupled with a much rougher pull on my beautiful feathers. "But it was ignored almost uniformly. The council has officially banned Ritophe from making any power plays until he does something successful." The sharper pain was replaced by a duller pain that did not bother me. Worse will be done to me soon, and I will take honor in that as well. I always take honor in serving my Mistress, no matter the size of the task.

The momentary relaxation does not relieve me of my duties...I am uncertain that I have even covered any material that occurred after the exodus to not-life she had made. It is possible that the news of the bureaucratic decision had not at that point filtered down, but there was much to be told yet. Of those things, much was bad, but I had a tidbit of good to share, a smug bit of gossip that I prided myself on gathering.

"Actually, it may please you to know that Ritophe's life outside the Council is similarly failing. His oldest daughter has recently turned to the Crusade for aid. It was in the papers. He is discredited." I thrill in the smirk that lights those precious pale lips. It sets her features aflame with life. It is this that I live for, and her pleasure is nearly inescapably contagious. Giddiness threatens my composure; I regain it before she notices my loving glance towards her. A punishment would come from that had she caught me, but this time, she is too happy in His defeat.

Hopefully, her joy with summer's end will save me from too much injury when I have finished fall's travesty. It will be difficult to serve her if she does not control her temper this time.