The Vampire's Apprentice

Clancy rose. "Tomorrow night I shall mark you as my own. If you want out, now is the time, because once you are marked, there is only one way to leave your service."
 
"Marked how?" Is it worth it to stay? "And how would I leave?" The last of her questions, she hoped, as there was likely even littler chance she would be able to sleep the remainder of the night. Definitely a good time to consider the book she left on the table.
 
"Death," Clancy said simply. "You would know far too much to be allowed to wander around free, no matter how fond I may be of you or what promises you made. As for a mark, it is a small thing. I would suggest the shoulder, but I've known familiars to ask for the cheek or neck. I will explain more tomorrow."
 
Death. She should have guessed that one. As it was now, she probably knew too much.

"Okay." Kitty gave a small smile. So much to think about. "Goodnight, Mr. McCleary."
 
"Good night, Miss Kitty. Take care of yourself tomorrow, and do not forget the cake," Clancy said. He closed the door behind himself and went back to work until it was his turn for bed.
 
"I hadn't forgotten."

Surprisingly, sleep decided finally to show up, taking her mind off many things, but pulling them back to others as she dreamed. Cold sweat seemed to be her waking point.
Kitty glared towards the window for a long while, almost as if resenting the sunlight that shone through. Time spent laying around was hardly time spent at all. How she hated that voice; in effort to ignore it, she pulled herself out of bed.

Take a shower, for one thing; brush out her hair as well as she was able to; make sure there wasn't any dirt on her face or arms; remove jacket to wash later; she'd found some spare floss and some toothpaste, so that was a plus. Take the books and put them back onto the shelf. Kitty noticed she was feeling up to a little more, though there was almost certainly something still cotton-balling inside her skull, causing the occasional sneeze. Apples. Perfect thing to start off the day right, in her opinion. That, and a glass of water or two before deciding it was about time she got down to the business of the that morning: cake.

Nothing was burnt, I'll say that straight off. Though many a thing came quite close to it, as Kitty frequently found her nose within the pages of a good novel, the cake was spared and looked quite fine by the end of it all. Another good reason to have apples handy is it made quite an applicable (and edible) topping; a simple thing to cause seemly decoration.

Not ten minutes past one o'clock, and the girl was outside breathing in the crisp air as she stepped lightly towards the home of the infamous Mrs. Pugglesworth, cake in-hands and trying not to drop the item or trip on some uneven terrain. Hopefully she wouldn't have to explain too much. It was hard enough thinking of what lay in store when night fell once again.
 
Mrs. Pugglesworth opened the door before Kitty would even have time to knock. "Well, hello, dear!" The saccharine voice oozed out of a body that looked like the Pillsbury Dough Boy had started to melt in the heat. Wide rings of flesh stacked on top of each other to form a body, starting with the pudgy feet crammed in tennis shoes that had long since stopped trying to contain them, a strangely smooth and shiny roll shaped like a loaf of bread made up the calves, multiple tiny rolls created the illusion of knees, and the thighs were mercifully hidden in loose white shorts, one leg of which would have created a skirt for Kitty. The flowery, pale shirt did its best, but while it was loose and more or less shapeless, it was, unfortuneately, the type of material that clung more than it flapped. The torso was formed by two or three lopsided rings that seemed to meld and separate from each other like bread dough in the middle of kneading it. The breasts were... Well, she wasn't wearing a bra, and she was the type of woman who desperately needed one. The arms were much like smaller versions of the legs, but ending in sausage-fingered hands and beginning with triceps that could have been stretched out and used for sails but were currently folded awkwardly into short sleeves. The neck was two perfect folds of goo trapped in skin that shifted and seemed to pour from one side to the other as she shifted and talked. Her cheeks were reminiscent of a hounddog's with not much less hair, an odd nose squashed in the middle, and twin beady eyes sheltered under a lowering brow with sparse eyebrows. It was all topped off with stringy white hair that had been cut into a shape that might have looked elegant with more hair, but just looked like visible static electricity with hers.

"I say! I believe I saw you sitting on the McCleary porch yesterday reading the hours away!" Mrs. Pugglesworth said, bobbing her head adamantly with each word, causing her neck jowls to ripple and sway in a rather alarming fashion. "Yes, yes, I did! Such a diligent reader, too, I do no think you even saw me wave." A barb of disapproval peaked out of that last sentence.
 
((Honestly I did not see this coming; I was completely caught off guard by that... elegant description of yours. Never have I had the image of a woman so permanently branded to the backs of my eyelids with mere words.))

There was only one thought running through Kitty's mind as the door swung open: this woman was fat. The word came and stuck so quickly in her mind that she didn't have time to push it away and think of a nicer one. What little she could do was smile lightly and do her best not to let any of the particularly rude comments leak out of her mind. She was determined to be nice to everyone—and she tried to be, no matter what—but sometimes... sometimes that was a lot easier said than done.

Kitty silently snapped back to the moment and managed to catch only the last few words spoken. Awkward.

"No, I didn't. I'm sorry." She had no idea what had been said moments prior. "But do I hope this makes up for it. It's always nice to meet the neighbors." Sitting tidily on a clean platter in Kitty's hands was the cake. The girl almost thought to cry, having to send the delicate desert to the woman she was positive would haunt her dreams that night. It was probably best not to think too hard about it.
 
((Thank you! I am rather proud of it. It is based, as all great characters are, off a real-life person I used to know. Very little exaggeration was used. I didn't need to. :p))

The woman's face lit up, her jowls from cheeks to chest vibrating in delight. "Oh! What a delightful surprise!" she cooed, taking the cake with surprisingly strong stumpy fingers. "That was just so positively sweet of you! How kind!" Then her eyes snapped from the cake to Kitty with an intense focus partially hidden behind the toothless smile. "It is, indeed, nice to meet the neighbors. I would have brought you a little something, but I did not realize Mr. McCleary's... company was staying. I am Mrs. Pugglesworth. And you are?" Expectancy ladened the words so heavily it was amazing they didn't fall to the sidewalk and break.
 
((Now I'm not sure which is more scary; the description or where it came from))

A lump caught in her throat for a second, yet her small forced smile remained. "Kitty, ma'am. Nice to meet you." She bowed slightly. "And you don't have to worry about bringing anything in return;" Ever, and please don't. "It's a friendly gift from me."
 
((Be afraid. Be very afraid!))

The woman's brow arched with an elegance that fit her face as well as an elephant wearing a real diamond tiara. "I do apologize, but I thought you said your name was... Kitty? As in the word also used for cats?"
 
"Yes, ma'am." How she managed to stay put was a wonder. Everything else on her mind had been forgotten, and Kitty felt completely dwarfed beneath the aura of this woman's flesh. She was silently pleading not to be let inside, though even more desperately wishing not to stand before the doorway for too much longer. It was a tad chilly, and she wasn't wearing her jacket.
 
"I see," came the frosty icicles as the woman's eyes judged her once more. "And how long will you be staying with Mr. McCleary, Kitty?"
 
Kitty brushed one of her now-free hands over an exposed arm, feeling the goosebumps rising over her skin. Wonderful. The woman was asking questions. Of course she was asking questions! Just find a way to answer without saying anything useful.

Ha! Like that would ever happen! Everything was useful to a busy body—Kitty figured if they voted in terms of physical stature, this woman would be the president.

"A good while, I'd suppose, since he's my only living relative." Second cousins? Better than making up something new.
 
"Oh, really? How interesting! Dear Mr. McCleary told me he was an orphan with no idea of his family! I suppose you found each other on one of those Facesnap sites you young people are always so interested in?" Mrs. Pugglesworth suggested, her breasts swaying slightly under her shirt as she shifted, like twin water ballons fixing to burst at any second.
 
"I'll let you think what you like," Kitty replied. "I do have a few other things to be doing, so I really should head back inside."
 
"Ah, I see! Well, of course! Don't let me detain you, dear. Thank you again for the cake!" she chirped merrily.
 
Escape

Never had it felt so good.

Kitty had to hold in her breath until the front door clicked shut behind her. The weight of everything seemed to fall back onto her shoulders, causing her hands to shake slightly, as the woman's obese figure was still heavy within her mind.

After spending a while making sure the kitchen was spotless, the girl decided to hide under the covers for the remainder of the day and try not to think about anything in particular. Like that was even possible.
 
Clancy rose as early as possible, making certain again that Kitty was not in the kitchen before coming out. Once he'd changed into proper clothing, he went to check on his familiar. "Miss Kitty?" he called, tapping on her door. "Are you decent?"
 
Kitty pulled the blankets off her head and sat up. "Yes. Come in."

Dread? Excitement? Fear? Curiosity? She wasn't sure what she felt, but she didn't like it, whatever it was. It felt unusually difficult to hold her ground in his presence.
 
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