An Evening's Observation

This scene comes from a sci-fi-fantasy setting I've been working on; this particular piece covers some of the tension between the races. The included image is a quick sketch of both characters.

Fenris found his eyes upon the back of his new servant. He found himself studying the way the light played upon the folds of her dress’s fabric, how shadows would appear and disappear with the turn of her torso; and the way the fabric bunched up and stretched, how her movements distorted the shape of the dress; and how her shoulder blades occasionally stood out through the fabric, how by simply raising her arms to clean a higher shelf she changed the field of her back entirely.

Fenris found his eyes trailing up along her spine, reaching his servant’s neck; the dark fur, short and soft. His eyes continued upward, meeting the back of her skull, the fur there longer than on the neck yet shorter than that of most women. He casually noticed her ears, large and active, swivelling ever so slightly as she went about her work.

The servant turned to her left, picking up some cleaning tool by her side--Fenris did not notice what it was, and did not feel the need to check--and her eyes glanced up, caught that Fenris was watching her. For the briefest of moments, Fenris thought he might have seen fear, perhaps even terror in her eyes; but then she was turned around again, her back now tense and her hands working deliberately, forcefully.

Fenris pondered this as he stared into the back of her head. Certainly, certainly it was her upbringing that should make her fear him; she was an animal, after all. That was what the Purists said, anyway--that by holding traits reminiscent of common mammals, any entire race of individuals could be simply waved off as inferior. There was no need to consider their acts or intelligence. The appearance was enough. They were different, and, at least on the Purist worlds, they were the minority. Certainly, certainly and without a doubt the minority group was inferior to those far more populous, and never mind that they were once the majority, and the present majority once the minority themselves.

Fenris felt disgusted. He suddenly felt the need to look out the window. His eyes trailed across the room, past the fireplace who’s mantle his servant now cleaned, past the rich wooden walls and their various paintings of landscapes and sunsets, past the light wood door leading into the rest of his illustrious home, and finally unto to the window itself, through which he saw the field of his property and the rich forests beyond.

Fenris felt the disgust leaving. It was always best to remain positive in troubling times. The trees always calmed his nerves. Nature spoke to Fenris, spoke soothing words and kind assurances. Fenris felt entirely at peace.

Olivia felt entirely terrified.

She tried to focus on her work--she couldn’t make any mistakes, couldn’t leave a speck of dust, no, never, no mistakes, for her sake--but she could only think of the way he had been... Looking at her. What did he want? Why did he have that look, that calm expression, that superior expression, that hidden smile, that mask over a vicious snarl of hatred?

The thought suddenly occurred to Olivia that they were very alone out in the countryside. A pit fell into her stomach. Her mouth went dry. It took all her effort to keep from trembling (no mistakes, no mistakes, keep working). It didn’t help when she thought that nobody would care, anyway.

Oh, no, that didn’t help at all.

Olivia just kept cleaning, praying to whatever greater power or powers existed to keep her from danger.

Author's Note

Few things: How does the juxtaposition between perspectives look (is it good, bad, ugly, etc. and why), is the vagueness concerning the setting acceptable (would more- or less- specifics be better, should it be mentioned at all, etc.), and how good is the title (the original title was "Fenris and Olivia;" what about each title is more effective, what else might I title it about, etc.)?