Feast Fit for a King
I hunger, always hunger, but I'm supposed to be filled... Why? I want to die...
Chop. Cut. Vegetables, all green, so vivid, bitter. Knife, sharp, easy to hurt, hurt me? Maybe…not now, not now, must cook for them. Good servant, to do all the work, to do everything. Cooking, cleaning, clothes, entertaining Little Miss, all of it and more I do. But…hurts. Cold, hurts. More than they know, more than anyone knows. I’m hungry…
Ah, pot, boiling, can hear. Lower, there. Perhaps stew is cooked? Taste taste…sort of. Salt…needs salt. Add a little, not too much, Master doesn’t like it. So cruel…but so gentle? So confusing…love? Love me? But no love, not here… I’m hungry…
Vegetables arranged, steam them, another pot, different pot, in, in they go. What else? Ah, bread, chop? Cut off? For the Little Miss to eat, right? Stew, cooking more, vegetables, steaming, what else…? Meat already done, in the pot. What else…? For them, not me, never me. Will work and work and work but not hungry, they say. I have enough. I’m hungry…
Love, for me, only food, yet not enough. Or is it? Can’t tell, always hungry, always hurting. Stomach hurts…but I must work. To make them happy, to make them pleased. To get…love. Love? Love me? But no love here. I’m hungry…
Can’t think of anything else, just wait, just wait- Ah, Master? Already? Hurry, hurry. Vegetables, good, steamed well, stew? Taste taste, ah, fine! Good, it’s good… I’m hungry…
Master is here, is food ready? Yes, yes, serving now. Plates, bowls, stew and steamed vegetables, like salad but not? Confusing, don’t know many things, but try. Still try, still do. Must do, or punished… No, no more, I can’t…anymore…but must, for love. Love…love? Not love, I know…but I wish… Ah, can’t think, must serve. But want love… I’m hungry...
All there, Mistress, Little Miss, now Master, serve, serve, almost done… Food all put down, cutlery in place before, napkins, spread over their lap, all done, there, now can rest… Waiting, down here, on floor, so hungry, so hungry, want do die…want to die… Can’t take…can’t take…so familiar…dying…please, love me…love me… I’m hungry...
Hear something, what? Master? Talk? Looks at me, smiles, says it’s a feast fit for a king. So simple, so good. So nice. Love, how nice! Love… Why am I still hungry? Too greedy, maybe… I’m sorry… I’m hungry…
Author's Notes
Featuring my custom, Shadowy Servant. HE'S SO SAD WHAT HAVE I DONE JGDAKLHGLKDHGLKDHSG OMG. Gah, this hurts. This hurt me when I looked over some of the stuff. I should reread and proofread...but it hurts a lot. OTL OW. But yeah, kinda happy about this piece, reason why Shadowy thinks and speaks like this is because when he was alive, he never got an education and was treated like a slave, essentially kept in a basement until made to work. So yeah, feral child. And then he offed himself and was reborn but is back in hell. DON'T WORRY I'M RPING HIS RESCUE RIGHT NOW. Hope you enjoy!