Demon Stories

Violette: Maritime Madness, 1910, Trans-Atlantic from US to England

Violette

Maritime Madness

1910, Trans-Atlantic from United States to England

Demons don't like to be cooped up in ships. They're like caged birds. There's nowhere to run when the going gets bad. They've got wings, but there's nowhere to fly to because its open ocean as far as even their eyes can see. 

At least we are in an age where being in a ship is tolerable. Not like in the past when it was bitterly cold or there were rats everywhere and the constant threat of disease. 

Diana is wearing a wide-brimmed dark green hat with matching dress. It is slender to her, as is the fashion. She looks odd in it. I'm not used to seeing her without voluminous skirts. Beau is dressed in an alternating pale lilac and white lace dress, with a wide ivory hat perched on his head as well. I can see he wants to sway from side to side in gitty glee, a smile edged on his eager lips. Beau loves trips on ships in this modern era. He lives for the open sea and always has, but even more so now. There are so many more conveniences than before, I admit. Meals, personal stewards, comfortable quarters.

We're traveling well, so we are of the first to get on board the ship. She is a massive ship, but nowhere as big as some of the ships I've seen. She will do, but it would have been exciting to go on one of the larger ones. 

A young steward shows us to our stateroom suite. It looks very fancy inside, with a slightly rosewood-like finish on the walls, large paintings everywhere. I particuarly like the one with the ballerina in slightly blue tutu, curtsied to her out of frame audience with confidence, yet also demure. 

Once we enter the front room, I can already tell something has changed within Beau. His eyes are slightly larger than usual, but I can't read his expression. He goes a little quiet. I was expecting him to grab my hands and dance around with me happily once the steward went away, but he just sits on the couch in such a way that I wonder if I should get him a fan and some water. He seems somehow agitated, almost in disbelief. But it can't be.

Diana goes off to our private part of enclosed promenade, so I sit on the couch with Beau. I take his hand and stare at him in concern. My touch startles him, and he looks at me as if he doesn't know me for a second. Then he breaks into a smile. His eyes do not follow. He is not really smiling, but I can't call him on it. There is just something about his disturbance which has me disturbed as well. I almost don't want to know of this something if it has someone as strong as him disturbed. However, I can't hold in my curiosity. 

I take his elegant hand and lead him to come with me to one of the little cafes that are along the promenade. I order him some water and he smiles charmingly up at the waiter and asks for some lemon as well. When our drinks come, he pushes the lemon into the water deeply with his finger, forgetting his hand is gloved in satin, makes a small noise of surprise and immediately takes off his gloves. I stare at him with wide eyes, and he doesn't notice. Now I am scared. Beau may seem to act with abandon at times, but not like this. He is distracted by something big, and I am scared. 

"Beau," I say in a hushed, pleading voice, "tell me what's wrong. Tell me, I need to know."