Self Care

On quiet nights in Elna Manor, Paprika was often left to his own devices, which typically entailed brooding for the evening in his luxurious upper chambers for several hours after dinner. There was a coyness to it, if he was being honest with himself.

Outside of his brother, Clover, it appeared to be a mysterious quality about him. His brooding is what brought him strings of genius and spurred him into action in ways unknown to most of the members of the Spice Rack. 

But really, what Paprika did during his moments of quiet reflection was relax, if only a little. It was difficult to relax when he was constantly on the lookout for a food source. He had threadbare patches on his body beginning to form, threatening to open and leak his mist out, but for now he was holding onto that secret for as long as he could. It would only serve to make Clover more adamant about his ways, and in all honesty, Paprika did not want to deal with it.

So he took his post dinner brooding hour as a time to rest.

His chambers had a balcony that looked out over the lake at the bottom of the steep hill that Elna Manor was situated on. Past the iron gates and immaculately manicured garden and the mossy old statues. The water rippled pleasantly in the early evening hours, reflecting the light of the moon in a silence that mirrored Paprika’s.

On that balcony, there were a couple of simple but elegant chairs that rarely saw use, but tonight, Paprika took to sitting neatly in one and taking several deep breaths and measured breaths before he completely let himself relax and unwind.

His wings dropped, heavy and tired, the shadows that made up his hair and tail grew limp and straight, losing the curly tendrils in favor of something that acted more as liquid. His wisps were released from the threadbare patches on his neck and they swirled lazily in haphazard circles with no real goal. They didn’t even fly from the balcony to scout.

Paprika was in a safe place now. The facade of the fearless leader, mildly incompetent looking from an outsider’s perspective, maybe even a little friendly looking to a total idiot. It was all gone and in its place was a completely unrecognizable creature.

He was, after all, a fox who had been undone and restitched together at some point in his past. That part he could not escape from. The evil that had been in him then was still in him now, but the creativity required to enact his plans took a much more distinct and concentrated effort. So much so that when the day was over, there was simply no more energy to do terrible things.

He thought about it often. There were three defenseless meals living under his roof at all times. He knew that at least one would willingly submit to him if he made the command. One would maybe hesitate for half a second before letting his obliviousness guide him. Clover would…

Paprika wasn’t sure what Clover would do. That scared him, because the last time, Clover had begged him to stop. And even when Paprika had wanted to, he had long since lost his way. He’d promised himself that he would never starve again and so far, he had kept that promise, for better or for worse.

“Your brooding is a bit lackluster today.”

Paprika didn’t move. That was Clover. Clover was the only one allowed to “disturb” him during his daily brooding hours, and Paprika lazily waved an arm. An invitation.

“I’m tired,” Paprika said.

“I brought you some tea,” Clover replied. He didn’t much mind that Paprika was tired. In all honesty, it was good when Paprika was tired. Maybe then he wouldn’t pace so much during the night. Pacing brought about ill intent.

He placed a saucer of milk on the small table along with tea, sugar, honey, and a plate of simple pastries. Paprika watched him, felt the intense desire to drain all the mist out of Clover’s body, and stomped it out, all without blinking.

“I thought you were going to be busy with Opal tonight.”

Clover grimaced. “He wants me to model his latest outfit and there is a lot of pink, so I had to get out of there. Hope you don’t mind that I blamed you. He’ll be upset about it, I reckon.”

“I reckon he will,” Paprika replied. “I’ll make a show of kicking you out later if you want. As cover.”

“That would be ideal.”

The two of them bumped their forearms together before Clover sat down, eager to get his tea fixed up. He poured expertly measured splashes of milk into his cup and dropped a couple cubes of sugar without hesitation, mentioning that the temperature was perfect for the specific brew.

“And I thought you would like a cup of tea.”

“You mean you would like a cup of tea,” Paprika corrected.

“It’s the same thing if you really think about it.”

Paprika prepared his own cup as well. Clover had taught him eons ago the proper way to enjoy a good cup, and he inhaled deeply from the cup. It was the good stuff. The really good stuff. The tea leaves that Clover went through great lengths to hide from Habanero and Opal, who just could not understand why these leaves were so important.

The sewing tin that was in a compartment in the back of the pantry by the dried goods.

“Special occasion?”

Clover shook his head. “You just look like you need something to take your mind off your past transgressions. This usually does the trick for me.”

“I wasn’t going to try anything.”

“You don’t actually know that do you?”

Paprika did not respond. He looked into his cup and could see a muddled reflection of himself in the candlelight from his chamber windows. At least he was tired. The tea’s aroma and taste made his exhaustion more apparent than ever. He needed rest.

“You won’t leave until I’m asleep?”

“Yeah.”

That was good enough for Paprika. He drank deeply from his cup.