“Isn’t it better now?” I asked in a gentle voice.
She made a face then nodded. “Those stupid legs always give me a hard time.”
“The finishing is lacking but makes a huge difference,” I said. “Although better, I would still want to varnish all of the chairs and table in a warmer brown color to elevate them further.”
I then waved at the upper floor of the three-story dollhouse, drawing her attention to what appeared to be the master bedroom. She’d created a pretty throw with a soft felt fabric that made it look stiff.
“This throw? Great idea, wonderful color and placement that brings life and warmth to the room. But it’s too stiff to feel natural. Here’s what I would have done instead,” I explained pointing at it.
I loved that, despite feeling a little bummed out with mehighlighting the flaws, my Mistress still listened with an open-minded curiosity. I hurried over to the counter to the left of the door where many of her crafting materials were organized in a rather pleasant fashion. As I had obsessive-compulsive tendencies when it came to order and perfection, this pleased me.
Then again, I had to silence my itch to move one of her bead containers a couple of millimeters to the right so that it would be evenly spaced with the others…
I picked up a pin from a cushion, and a forest green ball of lace thin yarn. My female’s heightened curiosity catered to my exhibitionist tendencies, in this instance not in a sexual manner, but just my shameless need to show off my many skills and talents.
I put the yarn on the display table next to the dollhouse, then held the pin between two fingers, the pointy tip up. Using my right index finger, I summoned my fire. Coral gasped as my fingertip turned an angry shade of red, before a flame danced around it. Pressing my finger on the back of the sharp point of the pin, I bent it so that it would form a hook. I then reclaimed the lingering heat from the pin, instantly cooling it before dowsing my fire. My task completed, I waved my newly improvised miniature crochet needle in a victorious fashion before my Mistress.
The stunned look of wonder on her face stroked my ego to no end. I reveled in the fascinated and excited emotions swirling around her as I pulled the thin thread of the yarn and started crocheting the most delicate throw with some lace patterns in the middle.
“Are you fucking kidding me!” Coral whispered to herself in complete disbelief as the fabric came to life before her very eyes.
It only took me minutes to complete my task before I carefully placed it on top of the bed. I turned back to look at her with a smug expression. Her gaze lingered in awe on the throw before she peered at me.
“This is beautiful,” she said in a subdued voice filled with admiration and a hint of sadness that didn’t sit well with me. “I wanted to do things like that, but I don’t have the time, the skill, or the focus. I know what I want to do, and how I want to do it. But my stupid mind just wanders off, gets distracted, and then I end up scrambling trying to get things done.”
“Your mind isn’t stupid, it is brilliantly imaginative. What you have created isn’t just a set of miniatures, it is an emotion, a journey, a tale people will want to immerse themselves in. You just need a little nudge to get it to a level worthy of your vision. And that’s where I come in.”
“I can’t make you fix my crap!” she exclaimed, scandalized.
If not for the embarrassment I perceived for her actually wishing and hoping I would grant her my help, I might have been offended. But the silly female genuinely felt horrible at the thought of exploiting me. My Coral was adorably clueless.
“Yes you can, and I demand no less,” I said in a stern voice. “I am your Liderc. Fixing things and making your life better is my sole purpose. Denying me would not only be an insult but downright cruel.”
She blinked, unsure how to respond.
“I don’t want to turn you into a slave,” she said carefully.
I gave her the ‘seriously?’ look. “I’m a Liderc. We ‘need’ to be kept busy to thrive. I thought you would have looked it up by now.”
“I tried!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “There is no such thing as aleedertsorleedairts, however you pronounce it. Look!”
Coral walked back to her laptop and switched to a different tab of her browser where her search was still on full display. I rolled my eyes at the spelling, even as a part of me found it unbelievably cute.
“Right. You wouldn’t find it with that spelling. It is aHungarian word. So while it is pronouncedleedairts, it’s actually spelled Liderc,” I said teasingly.
Her jaw dropped as she stared at me for a few seconds before proceeding to type the word with the appropriate spelling. A whole bunch of results now populated the screen. She muttered a series of swear words that had me chuckling.
“Now read up,” I ordered, showing myself rather ballsy considering I should be the servant.
A part of me wondered why I was being so candid with her. Coral’s cluelessness provided me with a golden opportunity to abuse the situation. And yet, for a reason I couldn’t explain, I wanted her to fully understand who and what I was, and wholly accept me. Over the centuries, I had served other masters, but none had ever felt like her. They’d been greedy and self-serving, seeing me as property to be used with complete disregard for my own wishes. At a visceral level, I understood that this woman was different. In truth, it was that difference that had beckoned me and convinced me to hatch.
Coral gave me a hesitant look before complying. The whole time, I drank in each of her emotions, studying her reactions to what it revealed about my kind, including our strengths and weaknesses.
“Wait. You’re going to sit on my chest, suffocating me and sucking my lifeforce while I sleep?!” she exclaimed, horrified.
I chuckled. “Only if you don’t keep me busy enough or feed me,” I deadpanned.
She mumbled something unintelligible then resumed reading.
