>The dreary halls derive gloom upon the long corridors of the mansion walls
>The wallpaper once bright with flowers and pastel designs, now wilted and grey under the oppressive atmosphere
>Maids and butlers have all retired for their attendance was only lightly necessary
>No, the occupants here often embraced the solitude brought about from the wide open spaces of the open rooms and tall passageways 
>For it is the inner looming depression in the master of the house who wanders room to room with scarce an ambition, but to linger on bittersweet memories and anguish
>And for the minor, she has grown like a daisy in thorn bush, unknowing the strangling atmosphere she dares to bloom in
>Completely forgotten from your father's mind, she plays the cello attuned to the lonely air of melancholy
>Your father does not mind, or rather cannot notice your presence
>You do not mind
>Your father is a great man, or so you once heard
>An adventurer, a seeker of thrills and delights
>An upstanding man of justice and equality
>An industrious worker and a risky gambler
>This was your father
>Until he met your mother
>A harpy that woman was
>Always breaking father down
>Always chipping away
>Nothing he did was good enough
>Nothing was ever right
>God, forsake that women to the depths of hell
>Your father was only ever a fool for her 
>And she made him into ruins for it
>Her tricks and games whittled your poor father's spirit, till the very being of his once hearty soul was a hallow
>Even after accepting his proposal for marriage, she continued to feed on his optimism like a parasite
>To char away at everlasting fire and suffocate on smoke would be too good for her
>Even to have audacity to die at childbirth the last straw was struck in his mind
>"Melody"
>Melody was her name
>The bitch
>Father, the poor fool, loved her even after the pain she caused him and continues to haunt him
>Workers, the dull-minded peasants they are, turn a blind eye to his plight
>Friends, if they can summon the gall to call themselves that, had abandoned him to despair
>Family, if God shan't disown them from heaven outright, had left him, for they wish to circle above him like vultures
>The mix of copper and ink well in your mouth at the thought of them
>They will not have him
>You will never let them have him, not inch, nor quarter of what's his
>Let them rot till oblivion takes them all, you will never surrender your father 
>"M-melody"
>He breaks down once again
>Not for the year, the month, the week, but the day
>Every day he cries for her
>She would never shed a tear for him, yet for the past decade he still weeps for her
>You look to him and try to resume your composure
>To play again, as she had
>It was the only quality no one could fault her
>She was a genius, with never a days practice, her concerts would grip the hearts of her audience and wring them for the pleasure of seeing them cry
>You hate that woman so much
>For all your fathers' love, she would sooner drag him through fields of barb wire then to ever reciprocate, as such was the state of their marriage 
>"Melody. My poor, poor Melody"
>You hate her
>You hate her so much
>Does she not see from pits of Tartarus what she wrought on your father
"Father"
>You slowly put your instrument to stand and walk to the study
>He sits alone in the dark
>Shelves tower around him high with trophies of former glory
>Books lined wall up high from the past to study any field he took a fancy too
>Yet now they are barely dusted by the short daily rounds of the servants
>You bring yourself to his side, on your knees. 
>You hold his hand and bring your cheek to it
"Father, please."
>You peer round the arm rest to look at Father's face
>From the jaw to the brow, his face resembles the strong man he once was, but time and toil has cost him
>His eyes seem to look out forever and you see pool to his soul with a depth of the heart rich with love
>Love tainted by abuse
>Drawn only to spill for naught
"Father, please."
>He hardly notices your voice
>Only the ghost chill of the hallow winds turns his face to your direction
>And then the world was lit
>He looks at you with wonder in his eyes
>A reawakening brings him up
>He straightens up in his chair
>Your eyes twinkle with hope
>Has he seen you
>For the first time in your life, will he find you
>Like two ships in the night, he has never met his daughter, but today
>You smile
>His mouth slowly comes agape, but does not dare to smile
>"M-melody? Is that you"
"…"
>You cannot comprehend the abysmal depth of hate toward the name he dare utter in your direction and the loss of hope
"F-father, it's me. Octavia"
>He traces his hands forward onto your cheek
>"Melody, you're back"
>You do not know when the last time he laughed was
>Perhaps, when mother died
>Perhaps, even before then
>But to hear his laughter, a deep booming echo of cheer from the depths of his chest, a place you had never heard from him
>You could help to be awed
>"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Melody!">He leaps out of his chair and with strength had never had before, he pulls you up into hug that lifts you off your feet
>His constant slouch betrays his true height, for now as you lifted in the air, you can almost see him
>His strength
>His posture
>His smile
>He pulls you tight wrapping his arms around you
>"Me-elody, I've missed you so much. You left m-m-me. You've left me all alone."
>You're shattered
>How many years, have you stood by his side
>How many years, have you called out his name
>How many years, have you played for his ears
>You scant remember the world outside your yard, for you had spent nearly ever hour trying to regain the parent you had lost when you were born
>Your own eyes look to beyond the books, beyond the walls, beyond the ceiling, beyond the clouds, beyond the sky, beyond the stars, and beyond even that
>In one ear you hear the crooked crying, tears of rejoice
>In the other hear the cackles of the witch who had the gall to play one more trick on you>No, you would not fall into her games
>You will take this and with anything you can, heal him
"Yes, dear, it's me"
>You wrap your loving embrace around him, though you could not fully hold his barrel, but the feeling was enough
>You look to the side, where his head rested on your shoulder
>You can see the quivering in his face of the grimace and closed eyes
>His body flooding with emotion of thousands of nights howling at the moon 
>The act of release from that witch's icy embrace
>As you stroke his neck, you resolved yourself
>You would give him everything
>Everything that was stolen from him
>The happy life, the warm family, the feeling of love
>You would return all
>If this will be God's only recompense to Job, so be it
>You are Octavia
>But for now, you can stand to be Melody
>If only for him

>You walk down the courtyard with the same composed look you always had
>Standing up straight, your suit with nary a wrinkle or scuff
>Prim and proper as all butlers should
>Your wife both understands your stance, yet constantly reminds you how unnecessary it was in your position
>To be an attendant for that family is less prestigious then when you started thirty years ago
>Where once the rowdy laughter echoed the halls now only leaves a haunting tune and cries of lament
>Despite your lack of chores and tasks, as the master had no concern for the mortal world and his daughter ever the recluse clutching to the hems of her father, you still prided yourself on professionalism
>You would always be bright and early every morning to attend to the families needs, despite how few were necessary
>Arranging house maintenance when it deemed necessary, working as kitchen staff which only included the family, and attending to the few of Octavia's whims were the extent of your duties for the past decade or so.
>Often, you would be released early to come home to your wife, but you would never take a day off while the scent of gloom perpetuated the halls
>As you walk up the stoop to the front entrance, your steps feel a bit weak as they always would whistle you approach the building
>A looming fear of anxiety always seemed to scare you with the thoughts of a tragedy for the master or his daughter
>Everyday you felt fear that a soul left the world in the midst of yet another dreary night
>The poor dear has been dealing with the suffocation all her life, it always seemed so unfair
>Despite your insistence and prodding, Octavia would not leave her father's side
>It pains and inspires you everyday
>She has been robbed more than she could ever truly grasp
>Upon opening the door, a long creak reverberates the long empty halls
>You sigh
>Another task to address today then, which almost came as blessing to stay a bit longer-
>Suddenly the slamming of an open door almost shattered your eardrums despite how far away it seemed
>*Bang*
>Heavy footsteps fell from the otherside of the mansion and as you approached the sound, it seemed the sound was making its way to you
>Who could it be
>What was going
>"HAHA HAH!"
>The bellowing laughter like that can only come from one man
>Your hurried walk turned to a sprint
>You rounded the hall only to be passed, a swooped up in one motion by another
>An utterance of disbelief and bewilderment escaped your lips as you hung limp 
"It can't be"
>"Inkie! Old chum! It's good to see you"
>You manage to move your head around to get a glance of your would-be assailant
>His white mustache
>His strong jaw
>His wide face
>As if a ghost of the past had come to play
>You smile wide
>So frazzled you could only get a word out
"Sir!"
>"Haha Hah!"
>Dumbly you may have spoken, but you are too shocked
>What happened?
>Is he fine?
>Was all that he needed was time
"I-it's good to see you in good form, sir"
>"Maybe so, but I wouldn't say 'good form'," he holds you with only one arm and flexes the other, "It seems I've lost a good bit of muscle while I was asleep"
>True, he used to be much more fit, but the vigor and energy all felt the same
"Nothing you can't get back with a good bit of exercise"
>"Haha, too true"
>You wiggle out of his arm and dust yourself off, a smile never leaving your face
"Then before you start the day, perhaps some breakfast is in order"
>"This is why you're the best, Inkie!"
>His laughter lights the load on your back, puts the spring in your step, puts a smile to your face
>This return to form, while ushering in many questions is still a miracle to behold first
>Over a decade of crying, no more
>You walk with the master in tow, watching as he walks with the same confident stride he once had
>Rounding the corner you thought to ask him how this came about
"You said you were asleep, sir," Which felt like an accurate enough statement given the unconscious state he processed for the past thirteen years, "But when did you wake up?"
>He smiled as he looked up
>"Yesterday. She came back to me, Inkwell. She came back"
>Swiftly inhaling, you stifle the compulsion to pause and interrogate, but you mind your composure
>You simply quirk a brow and swallow
"'She'?"
>"Yes, my Melody came back"
>A shaky breath escaped your lips
>Just as quickly as your elation had came, it had just as suddenly soured
>Delusion?
>Dementia?
>Ghosts?
>Your mind raced at the implication
>You make it to the dining room without another word and set the table
>After handing the master the morning paper, you left for the kitchen and mechanically made breakfast
>Your mind was absent as you assembled a french toast dish
>Instead you were preoccupied playing out in your mind what has happened and what do you do in such a situation
>Do you call a shrink or an exorcist?
>Should you call them at all?
>You can see the life pumping through his veins
>The contrast between today and yesterday are akin to night and day
>What would happen if you were to disillusion him?
>Would he accept the reality before him and come back stronger or relapse into his old funeral march?
>Your mind was a beehive of worry, speculation, and anxiety
>No woman or man could ever be expected to be prepared to approach such an aweful circumstance
>Thus, you must take it in stride until you can come to some conclusion
>"Melody!"
>The shout from the other room jolted you 
>The hairs on your back went pinprick and your blood chilled
>The master was likely welcoming the spectral apparition of Melody's ghost
>If it is merely a delusion, you can improvise
>But if that woman came back from the depths of hell to haunt these grounds, death may not be a mercy granted fast enough
>You hold a hand over your heart to steady yourself
>Mortal fear gripped made your knees weak and your mouth quiver
>The smell of burning toast breaks you from your paralyzed state and you quickly turn off the stove
>After one big breath, you brace yourself
>Checking into the next room you peak slowly until you can just manage to see into the dining room
>And then you spot them
>It was…
>Just Octavia
>And yet the master holds her up in his arms wrapping her with his affection
>You open the door and walk into the room
"Sir?"
>He looks back at you with a wide open smile
>"Inkwell, surely you remember Melody?
>And he gestured towards… Octavia
>Your aged mind was racing to catch up with his… claims
"I… yes, I remember Miss Melody," you say hesitantly,
>A glance at Octavia however spoke the full truth
>Her smile was genuine, but shaded in pain
>She hadn't spoken against him?
>"Well, she's back. And back for good. Oh what a wonderful time it will be from here on out!"
>Your mouth agape, you started to appreciate the gravity
>His own child is completely blotted from his mind
>There could never be an Octavia in his world
>Octavia, the only soul who could bear with his forlorn wails day in and day out
>The girl you had nearly raised alone on tales of how wondrous her father had been
>And… now… she has been casted to be a proxy for the woman you had told young Octavia was the bane of her father's life and result of that bane was what had stolen everything from her
>Your heart sinks like an anchor off the artic
"Sir, I… I-">"Mister Inkwell?"
>Octavia says
>She wore her sleeping attire, which is unusual for her since she takes after your tendencies to dress properly and it is far too late to still not be dressed for the day
"Y-yes?"
>"I would like to speak with you in private please."
>You eyes glance between the master's joyful face and Octavia's cool smile
"I… think that would be best."
>You walk to her and leave the room after one last glance at her father, who sat back down to read the paper
>She leads you down the hall without a word until taking you into her father's study
>After stopping in the middle of the room, she had closed the door and turn to you
>"Inkwell"
>You stop and look at her with distraught
"Octavia?"
>She put on a sorrowful smile, "Yes."
>Your still
>A shaky breath escapes your lips and you stare into her
>You take one good look at her 
>Yesterday it seemed so plain
"What happened yesterday?"
>She walked over to the red velvet chair and hung her body over its standing frame
>"Father woke up" she said without a hint of emotion
>He woke up?
>That's what he had said, but it seems he doesn't grasp what had happened
>She must have fed him 
>If he simply woke up he wouldn't be so delusional, so wrapped in this warped view as to not even acknowledge the last living soul who truly loved him and held out for him for so many years
>You spoke softly like a whisper
"What did you do?"
>She looked up and thought
>The morning sunlight had finally pierced the lowest set of clouds and has finally made its presence on the day
>And from its peering glance over the horizon, a stray beam of orange glow shone from the clerestory
>Octavia hummed and traced the ornate pattern on the baroque design etched into wood
>She seemed so calm, so entranced, that contrasted your panic so much
>Firmly you address her again
"Octavia?"
>She sighed
>"I believe, Inkwell, it all started when I was born"

"Octavia…"
>"I know it isn't ideal, but this is my only chance to help father."
>You shake your head slowly
"He should see a doctor"
>"No… no, I will not have it. This is far too personal and far too fragile to leave in the hands of some mug looking to rob my family further, when I've already lost too much as it stands"
>You let your stance slack a bit
>It was all getting a bit too heavy
>She must have thought about this too
>Poor, Octavia
>Far too smart and mature for her age
>You wish you could have given her something better
>Truth be told, you almost thought of her as a daughter
>To be thrust into such an awkward scenario is too cruel of the fates to brew for her
"This charade will surely blow up in your face"
>"If I am fool for hoping, then I will take that up and much worse if need be if it can lead to my father's recuperation"
>You stand in silence as dust flitters around you
>Before you get the time to think, though, Octavia calls to you
>"Inkwell"
>She looks at you deep in the eyes
>"Please"
>It was merely two words, but she shook every ounce conviction you might have mustered to put an end to this all
>Two words and she had you beat
>You exhale
"Fine. I will play along if I must"
>Relief and happiness returned to her in a way I had not seen in a long, long time
>She walks past you and to the door
"But, Octavia,"
>You both turn around to face each other
"Your Father isn't back">She just lifts her chin and in sneer smile, says
>"Not yet, but he will"
>She turns away and skips past the hall
>And you froze 
>The way she said it
>The will behind her voice
>It sent chills down your spine
>In an uncanny way you hadn't felt since you first met her mother


>After breakfast was made, Octavia and the Master were making plans, while you stood-by
>"I think I should check up on the company today."
>Octavia stood next to him as he sat idly scanning the last of the news paper
>"Really, dear?"
>"Yes, I've absent for far too long and it'd be irresponsible to not so much as visit as soon as possible. I don't like shirking my duty. I've done enough of that."
>She smiles and leans her head on his shoulder
>"As I expected of the man I love. I think it can be done, but lets do it tomorrow">"Tomorrow?" the master asks
>She moves her head back up and puts a hand on his cheek to gently nudge him to face her
>"Yes, tomorrow. Because I want you all to myself for today"
>His befuddle look melted into warm embrace
>"Very well, maybe it can be put off for one more day."
>She smiles all the more
>"Probably for the best," he added, "Since while we're out we can stop by Fancy Pants' estate and see the boys. They should still play cards on Fridays."
>At this Octavia's smile became a bit more forced to maintain
>The boys being her father's old friends
>The last time she saw them was eight or so years ago, but they're burned into her memory when they didn't show up to his birthday party back then
>This was when she was starting to take an active role in trying to cure her father and the absence of others were not lost on her
>"Of course. I'm sure they miss you terribly and would be delighted for you to rejoin them."
>"I just hope Toity still has the same bad tells like when I was playing him. If time's gone by, he might have even stopped scratching his neck whenever he has nothing. Heh heh"
>Her father laughed as he reminisced for a second, only for Octavia, with one finger, start playing with his hair in a slow motion
>"Very well, we can go see your friends tomorrow too, but I want to be there to make sure you're not horsing around when you just woke up."
>"Oh, please, I'll be fine. I remember how you didn't much like spending time visiting at Fancy's mansion when me and the boys played. You don't have to go"
>She smile and then giggled
>She stopped running her hand through his hair to caressing his cheek
>"First of all, I don't care where you go. I want to be near incase you need me. And second of all, I've missed you for far too long to go without you for another day. No"
>She moved in hugged him tightly with a big smile on her face
>"I won't let you go this time."
>The master started choking up
>He had never been embraced like this, so to see him so put offguard was different
>Always having to hide his disappointment in the past with the madam with stoicism
>Always having to laugh with bravado at her jabs
>Always having to beg and plead to make her happy
>And now, finally, in his eyes
>His love has finally been reciprocated
>He had likely never felt so vindicated in his life
>He hugged her back
>"Melody, I love you so much"
>Momentarily you heart panicked
>The moment so bittersweet had been spoiled so much from both sides
>But a look on Octavia's face said she was not discontent in the least
>She simply held him for dear life and wouldn't let go
>You can only hope the master recovers soon enough