Welcome to Gaia! ::

I was built to keep secrets, Mistress, He mentally whispered, watching the fire in her blank glowing eyes for that moment it flickered past. Forever is a long time. Especially for demons and undead. We will free you, Mistress. If... if I have to build a giant robot suit and come ripping down their walls it will happen. He nodded confidently with an assuring throaty grunt.

Yes, Mistress. It would be my pleasure. I have drawn up plans but they aren't much- he was flushing as he fidgeted with his notebook, paging back to a series of sloppy doodles and diagrams for refitting what looked like junkyard finds before holding it out to her like an eager child wanting the macaroni art he had made critiqued by a parent.

His expression fell though. Fidgeting a bit.

I must tell you though. I am Master Barth's Igor. He has not said anything to me about it since we heard of your return... but I know he is... not entirely pleased. He would not be pleased to hear I came here.

You are my Mistress! You will forever be my Mistress! The panic showed on his face as he took a shy step backward, hands holding the notebook shaking as he lowered it. But before... before you... you left for the Isles you had said... I had hoped... You must speak to him, then I don't know if I could... All these years torn between you two and...

His eyes trembled over her face in fear, his stomach twisting. It is a lot to explain, Mistress. And I am not the most articulate.

Explain? Starting where? The beginning? It was unnerving.

He missed her. How she was. Where they were going. How their relationship had finally... evolved. He didn't know how to explain what he wasn't sure he entirely understood.

Christof looked miserable, twisting his notebook between his hands before backing up against the bed to sit again, staring down at it.

When I first started school... I had barely left my Master Creator's castle. Errands. Speaking to no one, obviously. I was sent to school, I figured to find a new Master. Or hoped. I still... well... That was a story for another time. I met Barth when we teamed up for the school play... His expression softened, smiling faintly down at the black and red marks that wrapped down his arm poking out from his coat sleeve, It was my first Demon Mark. He is a Sloth demon, you see... he requires a lot of Igoring

And then I met you. He inhaled and exhaled deeply. You were everything I wanted in a Mistress... powerful, scornful, nearly tore me limb from limb a few times you were so angry like that time I hit Miss Amrita...

You treated me as an Igor aught to be treated.

But... But Master Barth treated me differently. He was... he is my friend. My dearest friend. We are... partners. We create together. He has taught me so much and... and commended my cleverness and he and Calder have... helped me understand. That I was different.

There's something in me still, though, that longs for a strong, benevolent Mistress. I ache for it. I was built that was, I suppose. I don't know. But... you changed too. Over time. I'll always remember the Icky Stick incident. He gave her a stern look before returning his gaze to his notebook. I wanted to take care of you as well. But you had your dragon. And you had Master Malodore. For a while you still... still viewed me as a servant. But then there was that night... before you left. We went to a terrible movie. I took you for a ride on Chopper. It was an experiment of sorts, I think, although you denied it. You said you wanted... wanted us to be friends. Proper friends. His expression was trembling now, his mismatched eyes watering. We poisoned pigeons in the park. You tricked me to think you were poisoned as well... it was... it was a wonderful time. One of... one of the happiest in my life, I think.

And then your mark over my heart vanished.

You never came home.

Easily, Mistress, He mentally breathed, eyes closing as he tried, with all his might, to remember that park bench. Not the quick t he had practically thrown at her at prom, but careful remembering, strong in his mind and heart like humming a song.

The way she held on tight as the wind ripped through their hair and tentacles, when he had actually laughed and she had taken joy in the sound. Her playful scolding of his recklessness on the bike. Her admonishment outside the theater when they had arrived, and her words that had etched into his mind. We are here as *friends*, Christof. The way she had had to force him to see it that way, not the other way around.

Her asleep on his lap, sounded by dead and dying pigeons, the smell of the breeze, the smell of grass, the smell of arsenic, the shift in the sky as he had slowly stooped over her as she shivered with cold. He did not produce his own heat, but he worked well as a blanket to keep her heat in. The sound of her breathing and soft feel of her tentacles wrapped around him and the chair.

The feeling of safety, comfort, with a touch of confusion he had resigned himself to accept and cherish.

He had thought a long time to himself as they sat there, while she had slept, but it could all boil down to the simple reality that things would be different now. Maybe not so complicated. He loved her so much it ached, but she was not his Master. She was not his lover.

She was his friend.

Countless times. But you never saw me. He shifted, sniffing noisily as he wiped his eyes, before his expression hardened. When I found out you had... passed. I made a vow to myself. No more Masters. I use the term out of... politeness and habit now, but... Barth is my *partner*. I serve who I please. To be a Free Igor starts mentally.