Within Veiled Boundaries: Shroud Over Their Eyes.

It has been four days since given her own small room across from her father's. It is just her and the undertaker most days. Meals are brought by the house servants. There was basic bathroom attached here, so she doesn't need to really leave. There had been other children here before. Toys of all sorts from all walk of life, a wood carved horse to a very expensive model console. Possessions left here lingered attached memories and broken promises. She barely touch these things, and she can live those memories as they were her own. The adult echo of her soul snarls; he slept around like a doh on heat.

Why did he have demon lawyers... and cover up? Paid a judge and sealed the court papers. Efficiency in keeping the mass of woman he played for. He didn't do this alone. He had help. His parents were in on it, too. They literally own the land this manor sits on. The graveyard and cremation funeral directory business beside it.

The sad truth was that she was the last child. He did actually fall in love with her mom. Her picture is the only one in the hallways. There isn't anyone of the many other children or their mothers. Eliza can name everyone that been in this room and the women who were pained as a result. She could draw each face and what promises he had broken with them. Their souls may have been spent by the ritual to sacrifice them to the index. However, their history and resentment have laid a curse here. It is energy going nowhere is stuck in building and corrosion of the atmosphere. This ground is filled with torment and sorrow. This curse is pain that keeps you awake at night, but there is no physical wound or logical human reasoning that a stranger could pertain to the turth. It is how every Seer that lives in this house has a stench of this curse. Vacant inner thoughts.

"Pardon me." The servants are all those whose name was taken or scammed into a false deal. Chains of regert weight down every shoulder of every servant. They are affected by the torment curse of shattered souls and resentment. Even demons find it worse than walking hell.

"Are we still not allowed to roam the manor?" The undertaker has been very bored being stuck in here. There aren't any books and she knows he can't watch TV. It would put that videogame as useless for him. At best,making detailed notes of each missing child case and the scattered remains of what they left behind. Small things matter, like the horse being hand carved by someone. No factory can manufacture something so personal with love.

"Any normal child would have attempted to run away by now. Even the kid that didn't even live with a roof over the head before coming here." Putting the tray down.

"Malcolm was a resourceful lad with amazing street smarts." She tilts sideways while replying, "Why run away from fear?" She smiled, ending that, and the demon leaves quickly. Slams the door and locks it again. She straightens with counting down her fingers. On the five counts, the door is unlocked again, she waved as if in waiting for some word or command. She flutters in the lack of speech and properly turns to face the door. The demon frowns in standing, holding the door half open. They do not say anything or indicate an invite. She rolls her eyes while back to facing the wall. She had drawn on this wall on the first day, and she had been staring at it since. The demon frowns in quietly, closing the door. It was dismissive of her not leaving sooner.

The demon.servants isn't aware of the mischief her mask was up to. How it rudely blended as a mute family dead member. Her mask took part in the later system of messaging and read everything before passing it on. It would eventually send fake versions and cause miscommunication errors. Prep for making her life easier for some other scheme later. The apple didn't fall far from the tree but turned this into some sort of superpower for good causes. The scheme she plays was some cosmos scale, digging claws for God eaters and slayers. She knows her outsider duties, her titles outside of this universe, and continues to be at this duty even within this existence. The staring at crayon marks wasn't for nothing.

"So yesterday you explained angels. They come in many and differ by culture or country. You rounded off the court system well enough." She softly spoke towards the undertaker, indeed has been educating her as an undertaker, "You even got far with how those that serve a god are not the same as the common angel." He huffed and nodded.

"Demons are self-serving in sort of counter opposite of angels. As long as the goal they want to achieve is ambitious. They will do anything and everything for it; beg, cheat, and steal. But they have a way of smooth talking temptations and making negative, causing actions to seem a better mercy. They are about packing orders and have internal political battles. Lords or those with a title own a lot of something. They often are nicknamed by their food source or command over something. Adapt at their one thing, but they want more - always there is room to push and shuffle higher and lower." He breaks out a guidebook that is sort of the gift you are given when you die. Only really, if you are guided to the afterlife and don't fall into another realm - you would be guaranteed one. It has many bindings that prevent you from reading all of it. Demons can't read about the god's realms while gods can't access about the masked shadows of regert carriers. It wouldn't work on a living human, a blank book of vague aura to forget about it. In the hands of a seasoned undertaker or wanderer - it has helpful tips of where to resource protection in travelling Sigil and how to keep your soul safe. He has been using the words directly or with some censorship in explaining basics to her.

"Demons are the third most common being. They do have a teir system as the lower ranks are monsters and animals. The upper tiers are refined beings with contorl over layers of hell. The one that owns the human boarding school in st August is a mid high demon. He is the highest of his area. Given the vast amount of realms that make hell or many hells. Territories are how they don't end up trying to kill each other often. Secondly is the strength of willpower, even the smallest imp can later become God. Demon gods are often those who are made of energy they gathered. Imps can be made from anything or anyone - for as long as the sin, guilt and willpower to do this sin is greater than anything else. The more selfish a demon, the more natural and instinctive they are. Those Demons made by humans with twisted minds. They make it pretty up the list but reach a glass ceiling and or are stopped by greeder guys who been the game longer." He heavily censored today's teaching. Likely in the fact she still a child.

"I guess humans who eat humans for sport in the modern time would be out sourced by thier ancestors that did that out of ritualistic prayer of beliefs." She crossed arms in tummy aching like always. She stares dull of her crayon drawing alone the walls. Makes a slide stare towards at the drugged up food that was at low poisoning levels or sedative to keep her thinking less. Preferring a docile defenseless manner in all the children that stayed in this room.

"Why did the demon call you Miss Marionette?" She looked up from the tray to the undertaker closing the guidebook. He has been bored enough to make such bother of mundane details. She doesn't blame him, she is also as by her body nature a restless sitter. Her foot taps a rhythm most times.

"This is a map of the entire manor. I have overlay the 5 floors." She directed to the crayon mass, "It's all one colour to disguise. Yet if I say the basement is the circle then you can work the rest." He seems to sprung quickly towards the wall. He spent time touching around following the traces and memorizing the entire mass. He would speed and slow at sections that would matter for spirit folks, as if her consideration of these parts was abnormal. He moves back in looking at the whole thing, making a deep glaring of clearly eyes tracing the circular basement. He tilts in notice of something and lowered to her eye level, looking at the added details she would only noticed in her lower height. He kneels beside her, made several tilting angles with eventually looking at her. She gives a mischievous wink following that. Dhe softly closed hands in front of herself and sighed. She glares of the oncoming footsteps of the corridor.

"It be a matter of time for the children they have brainwashed and kept as pawns to come bother us. They have always bullied and harmed the ones whom were here before. Murder them to soon occasionally. Wasted lives that didn't even get used for what the Seers breed bastard children for." She tilts forwards as the pace of steps stop at the door. The handle softly twisting in checking soundless for the lock test. Once whomever knew it was locked. They began to rattle and bang the door. The childish attempt to put fear. They got so rough at trying to hard for any emotional tell that a demon servant had quickly rushed over and stopped them from breaking the door. But since now a servant was here. Some idiot thinks smart of having the demon tortured until they open it. The undertaker seems to flinch and snarl in the pain the poor demon has to go through before finally the door clicked. Eliza puts a hand on the undertaker shoulder, a pose of silence. She waved her right hand, lifting a thin sheet of shadows to rise and fall. Black sand barrier curse prevents entry none humans. It's a very exact and strong version of a normal barrier casting. There was added things the undertaker doesn't reconginize. The door softly creaks open to a small gap. Then a swift slam that put a hole on the wall from the handles contact. Three very high branded tweens swoop in and scan the room. They peer confused. With all turning back to the demon in a glare.

"Get out of this room." Right at that moment one them was opening their mouth to speak. She used that voice the over layers them. They turned looking around the room more, gingerly timid steps. One passed a threshold of one layer of black sand, they turned pale - frozen at the spot. They were stuck in a trance. Another makes the same mistake but they peed themselves. The last child pulled them both by the hood and they look with one eye constantly at the door. She raised brows and let the undertaker go. The shadows raised and lower, hiding away the curse barriers. The blood drip mess of the demon servant peers in looks at her with confusion and closed the door softly. Lock clicked back. Unstable footsteps tetter away.

"According to human myth, there are monsters that live among us. Big foot. The chubacrabra. The yeti. There is popularity in horror monsters, a tend that will vastly grow bigger as fear of ourselves is reflected by the outcome we do to the planet." She speaks human and stares at that crayon map, "There are some monsters whom been around before humans, changed but still hidden. While others are created into existence by the imagination of masses. Pop culture will someday be as true as the power of prayer. But it will not be God's we look up to and swear devoted fear from. It will be the fears, phobias and nightmares that we relish to fear. Twisted art that captures only terror to be respected." She folds back her arms to her normal holding her stomach lean tightly forwards. Feet draw up and the tilt of contant start at the drawing, "What better fear there is that the fear of yourself. Occasionally the fear of other humans. As it will no matter the gore, terror and story of experimental action over unsuspecting humans. It is only that humanity itself is a weapon of itself." She tighten up even more and sunk in to the point of hiding herself as a tight bun.

"Is that what you fear most?" He asked with a dripping tone of fitting to his ways.

"I can't find any better armor in any world, universe or existence across the multiverses beyond boundaries of knowledge." He stands up and away from her. He lets this sink about his many world of inner thoughts. He couldn't see how it answered why they call her Miss Marionette. Although in where he stood, he spotted abnormal thing about the room dimensions, in association of her map to the room. Why there was such small space here then what is drawn. He moved around to the hole of the door handle. He breaks away more of it. He peers through. He reached through and back out, a gore drips from his hands. Blue substance that sulphuric like. He snarls and goes one last time. Snapped something from there and brought in. The skull partly crushed between fingers, flesh slough puddles are his feet.

"They didn't buried or cremate these double death sacrifices. They built them into the lining of every bedroom and spell crafting hall." She wobbles, "I can feel and hear them. I see as they do and did. It a constant movie of imagination even in the bad of my mind." He drops the chunk and the meaty thud began to crawl itself up and back through the hole. It sealed this hole with fleshy film, preventing viewing.