Lightly shaking the salt shaker, Otari carefully stirred the small white crystals into the previously perfectly brewed cup of tea. Pausing once the tea refused to accept any more salt, he scooped out the lingering residues of salt on the surface of the liquid, removing any trace of temperance with the tea.

Perfect.

Finally sliding his hand underneath the serving tray, Otari spun towards the door of the kitchen, exiting and beginning his brisk walk down the hallway.

He’d already spent long enough putting off his work this morning. Many minutes were spent in bed with his head buried into the hard pillow as he willed the sun, still so bright even after all the time he’s spent on the surface, to sink below the horizon once more. Now, with the small stunt he’s pulled in the kitchen, only a few moments were left before he would be late with your cup of tea for the morning.

Passing by tall ceramic vases full of expensive exotic flowers in front of even more expensive paintings, Otari bowed briefly to each of the estate’s workers that had already gotten up bright and early to do their work.

Stopping in front of a large set of ornate oak doors, Otari paused to take a breath. The delicate gold lining of the door which outlined your family crest shone in the sun, glittering softly as if to signal the start of his day.

Composing himself, Otari pushed the door open and then subsequently froze.

It wasn’t often that you brought out his pelt, but when you did, you made sure to humiliate him. Standing in front of the mirror, your clothing was just as extravagant as ever. The specific piece you chose to accentuate today was a soft ruffled cravat in a delicate shade of gray and spattered with white ringed black dots. To the undiscerning eye, the ‘fabric’ of the piece was the pelt of an exotic animal.

To Otari, whose hand was now curled tightly into a fist as he stepped inside the room, it was his precious pelt.

“Your tea.” Otari bit out, shame, anger, and hatred coiling in his gut like riptides threatening to drag him under.

Your possession of Otari‘s servitude and pelt was not his choice. Many weeks ago, Otari had pulled himself up onto a sandy beach from the sea, stripping off his pelt to transform into his human skin. It was customary for selkies to transform at least once a year lest they get too comfortable in one skin and become unable to transform. Stretching out his human form, he had barely taken a couple steps in the sand before his eyes caught yours.

For a heart stopping moment, Otari hoped that you would be kind.

In the next beat of his heart, he was roughly pushed onto the sand and his pelt was torn from him.

You brought him back to your estate, forcing him into a servant’s uniform while you had your other servants hide his pelt away for safekeeping. From then on, Otari could only catch a glimpse of his pet whenever you felt like taunting him with your possession of it. But, with the one year anniversary of his transformation nearing, the rightness of his human skin terrified him.

His pelt. He needs to use it to transform again.

Stepping closer to you with the cup of tea, Otari‘s gaze remained glued to the collar of your clothes. His pelt.