So lilfluff sent me a bunch of prompts for my birthday in 2014. *cough* This is from Tír na Cali.
It was the Lady’s birthday, and the house was in an uproar. The Lady herself was not all that demanding — but her Lady Mother was, and that meant that everything had to be absolutely perfect: the Lady might own them, but the Lady Mother was still Baroness, and she could make their lives miserable and their Lady’s life horrible.
The cakes were divine and adorable, the house was scrubbed till it gleamed. The landscaping was trimmed until everything was level and bright and lovely. The household slaves were all in their absolute best uniforms. Even their collars were gleaming. In five minutes, Herself, the Lady Baroness, would arrive.
And their Lady Mistress was sitting on the veranda, happily sharing a tray of hors d’oevres with a scrawny teenaged boy who was still in slave-raider pants and the bright orange slave-shop collar.
“What?” she asked her chatelaine, when the patient woman found them. “It’s his birthday too.”
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