Dust To Dust: An Arthur Deco Story
By ThatGuy
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When I walked into this shop, I swear I didn't expect to end up working. Honest! It's not like everything I come into possession of used to be someone else, sometimes I do buy my own things.

Shocking, I know.

Anyways, it was just a little furniture/trinket/etc place – you know, those places that sell actual, hand-crafted-with-care things that are almost antiques, but in any case real, unlike the cookie cutter stuff you get from IKEA. Those are always the best, I tell you now – nothing like an authentically made something to brighten up a room or give you some real comfort.

And no, don't let that stop you from coming to my store, please. I live for authentic.

But I wasn't there for myself. No, what I actually walked in here to do was buy something for… er… someone special. Someone who I really messed up with and for whom I really need something to help make up when we meet again tonight. Given the nature of my particular "mess up," I couldn't "make" something with my own impressive abilities, but even if I could have I might have ended up in a place like this anyway. The sorts of things you get here have their own kind of charm… how surprised I was when that phrase turned out more true than I thought.

I was looking through the shelves for maybe a porcelain doll or some jewelry when something caught my eye. All in all, it wasn't anything special. Just a feather duster. A particularly good one - one that probably originated in the house of someone a lot wealthier than I was, let me tell you - but just a duster none the less. Normally, it wouldn't have gotten my attention: I didn't have or need a maid, and if I had bought it for her the implications alone would probably have earned me a slap in the face (if not worse), but something about it made me unable to turn away.

I looked closer. It really was a nice piece of craftsmanship: beautifully carved wood, soft bushy feathers that looked in pretty good condition for something that's been around for a while, the spark of magic flittering around it, strong but light and delicate handle…

Yep, you read that right. When I first saw it I interrupted that train of thought with a "buhwha?" but in retrospect it's funnier this way.

I barely would have seen if I wasn't paying attention to it – heck, me noticing it in the first place was probably a million to one chance. The magic residue was faded and weak, but there: someone had cast a spell on this feather duster in the past, that's for sure. A quick check showed that it wasn't some kind of evil curse lying in wait to turn my skin into acid (true story, happened to a friend of mine), so it obviously had to be something more intricate. This warranted further analysis: who in their right mind would put some kind of complex magic on a feather duster of all things?

After a minute or two of investigating the residue's aura, I discovered that apparently no one would – not specifically on a feather duster. See, this feather duster wasn't always a feather duster, no. This feather duster was once human.

Another "buhwha?" moment for sure.

Without a moment lost I grabbed the feather duster off the shelf, placed it on the counter and thanked my lucky stars the owner was in the back. Luckily, the kind of magic I sensed was used on this poor person was old – not just by way of being faded, but also because it was an archaic style of magic. One that every wizard these days learns if they know anything about their history, which I do. Hoping these kind of spells didn't somehow become impossible to reverse over time, I waved my hands, said a few words, and hoped for the best.

And the best happened. The feather duster shook for a moment and then grew, feathers becoming hips and legs, solid handle becoming a curved figure and splitting into arms and chest, the very end turning into a soft face and head with short-cut black hair and blue eyes…

In short, where there had been a dusting implement only a few minutes ago, before my gaping eyes there sat a confused young woman.

A fairly attractive confused young woman.

Who was naked.

Luckily (or not, depending on your point of view. Me? I didn't want to risk someone walking into a scene like that, thank you very much… digressing…), she noticed right away. Nearly fell backwards off the counter the way she gasped and clamored to cover herself. I, on the other hand, was prepared. Only an extra wave of my hand was needed to cast a clothes generating spell – of my own design (genius as I am), it creates clothing based off of the subject's mind. Something she would find comfortable. I also figured it would give me an idea of what to expect from her.

I was surprised. It looked kind of like that French maid costume people like to wear, but a lot more reserved and more like a dress. Almost… authentic.  Odd. The sudden appearance of clothes on her body surprised her as well – she gaped for a second and then looked up at me, her very expression a question in itself.

"Who… where am I? What is going on?" she asked. That's rich, like I knew.

"I was going to ask you the same question. Who are you?"

"My name is Babette, but I…" she trailed off, clearly too confused to say more. At this point filling in some context seemed like a very good idea.

"To answer your question, we're in a furniture shop, where about ten minutes ago I was looking for a gift and you were a feather duster. Ringing a bell, mayhaps?"

"Yes… I remember now," she looked forlorn – prying is generally not considered polite, but I just had to know.

"Care to explain?"

"I… well, it is the least I could do to you for helping me..." I leaned in, something told me this would be a good story. I wasn't disappointed. "You see, before I was… an object, I worked as a maid in my Lord and Lady's manor. I-"

"Wait," I interrupted. This might be a problem. "Lord and Lady? Where are you from? And what year do you last remember it being?"

"Where?" she tilted her head, "what do you mean? Isn't this France?" Interesting. I only just realized I had been subconsciously using my magic to translate our speech (that's right, I'm so good I do stuff like that without knowing it). "And the year, I could never remember even before I spent my days sitting on a shelf, but last I remember it was year 17…40? Is that right?"

1740? Holy crustacean, looks like I was off a bit when I claimed this place only carried almost-antiques. "Er… more on that later. Please, continue."

She looked curious, but pressed on. Good, no need to shock her too much yet. "Well, I've had a good life. I grew up in my Lord's home, it was large enough by far to house all of us. My Lord and Lady loved us all like we were their own family, and we adored them in turn. My mother was one of the most honored maids in the castle, and a great friend of our Lady - my whole life I hoped to one day take good care of my beloved home, like my mother did. I even had a suitor – he was also a servant in the castle. We grew up together. It was my greatest wish to grow old together, him becoming master butler of the house and me head handmaiden, the two of us keeping our castle dutifully and making it as grand and masterful as it was to us always."

She faltered and started to shudder. "And to think, after all my dreams in the end what my fate was. To be a… a feather duster! It's… it's…"

She looked like she was about to cry. To be honest, it was both an inclination to comfort her (me and my big, humble heart) and a huge desire to find out what happened next that drove me to conjure her up a handkerchief and say a few comforting "there, there…"s.

She did not stop for long. It seemed like she wanted to tell this as much as I wanted to hear it. "I think I was a good at my job. I kept the manor tidy. I was always kind and polite. Everyone enjoyed my company. Everything was wonderful… and then my Lord and Lady died. It was a disease no one could cure… and a terrible loss." She sighed wistfully, but pressed on. "After that, it all went wrong. My masters' daughter inherited the manor – I grew up with her as well. She was always… different. Arrogant. Controlling. And when she returned from her time abroad, we found she had learned to become considerably crueler. Among other things…"

This was shaping up to be a very interesting anecdote. "Oh?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

"Magic." She said ominously. "Much like what you use, wizard, but she was considerably less helpful with it. She used it only to satisfy her own desires. But we still stayed and helped her – we were family, and we loved our home, even if she did not appreciate it. Even after she expelled my mother, I stayed behind. My love was there, and, well, I could not…"
She paused again. I sensed we were getting to the operative part. "I understand. So how did… this happen." I made a hand gesture like a bunch of feathers. She blushed.

"My Lady was interested in a young noble from a neighboring county, and the wealth and power he represented. He was kind, charming, and humble… all things she was not. She invited him to the castle for small visit. We outdid ourselves for his sake, with dinner and accommodations made more perfectly than we had since the Lord and Lady were alive – but he saw straight through her advances and left before the end of the first night. She… did not take it well. She ranted and raved, threw around furniture, and chided us for meaningless things. I could not take it. Perhaps it was my irritation, perhaps it was me being used to being able to speak my mind to her parents, but I spoke out of turn and told her that he might have stayed had she been more genuinely kind and less transparent. She did not take that well either."

I would imagine not. I fought the urge to laugh – just imagining this vain young sorceress' face when she heard that was hilarious, but since I had a good idea what was coming next it kind of lost its humor. "Go on…"

"She yelled louder than before. She said I was just a cleaning girl, that I had no right to give my opinion, and that to her I was little more than an object meant to keep house. She said she was going to put me in my place, and then… she changed me. She had used her magic against us before, of course, but nothing so extreme – a spark of fire, a spell of lethargy, things that were meager punishments. To suddenly be transformed like that… it was shocking. Then she ordered that I be thrown in with the rest of the cleaning implements and forgotten… they were too afraid to disobey, though no one but her truly cast me aside, at least I don't think. My love certainly did not, he missed me every day, from what I heard the other maids say when they were using me… but sadly, everything eventually started to blur together and fade… until…"

Until you started to fade as well. I added mentally. I was incredibly sympathetic – it often happens with inanimate changes, especially ones so cruel. Eventually, the person inside just wanes away into the object, inside and out. A fate only the most callous would inflict so… er… callously. "Yes, I think I understand." This was a very interesting tale, to tell the least. And it left this as a very delicate situation. "Quite a story, your life. Sorry to make you repeat it."

"It is… alright. I needed that," she smiled softly – it didn't quite reach very far, though.

"So, now we have to figure out what to do with you…"

"What do you mean? I must return to my home. I have to find my love and tell him I am all right. I must-"

Hoo boy. This won't be fun. "That… won't be possible," I cut her off.

"Why?"

"Well, you see… you've been trapped as an object for quite a while. It's been a few years. A few hundred years to be exact. Your boyfriend is long gone by now. Sorry…"

All things considered she took it extremely well. She just fell silent and let her shoulders fall, staring into space. Sure, it was concerning, but at least she wasn't going into a panic attack.

"What…" she said after a long while. "What must I do? What can I do?"

"Well, for one, how old are you? Not including the years you spent literally gathering dust."

She reddened slightly. "I am twenty four, going on twenty five." Good. Finally, this girl catches a break.

"Excellent. The good news is I know some people who would be happy to give you a place to live, no questions asked, and a few wizards who could help you with getting a new identity. As for a job… well, if you want you could work for me. I work with people who were transformed just like you – though most of them not quite as unwilling as you were – and me and my assistants would be happy to help you adjust."

"That sounds… lovely. I would like that," she gave me a genuine smile. I could tell she was still feeling aimless and distraught, but I hoped my friends and I could help her with that.
The store owner chose this moment to come in from whatever previously convenient activity he was doing in the back. Predictably, he found the sight of a beautiful woman in old-timey dress sitting on his probably expensive counter shooting the breeze with one of his customers fairly disconcerting. "What the devil is going on here?"

"Oh, nothing." I said quickly. Babette jumped off the table and stood behind me, looking worried – unnecessarily, I can get myself out of any pickle, especially one as minor as this. "Just found someone and was catching up. I was wondering, though – how much for that feather duster on your shelf?" Stealing is wrong, after all – and I was technically taking his merchandise. Might as well take care of it this way, this sort of thing is… difficult to explain.

Behind me, Babette blushed at being indirectly referred to as such, but the owner didn't notice (not that he would have realized why if he had), "that old thing? Well, I dunno. It's a rare antique, from an old French collection. An amazing bit of craftsmanship, too – fine wood, quality down, well used but still in amazing condition. I got it for a steal as a sale a few years back, never thought I'd part with it" behind me, I could practically hear Babette getting redder and redder. I chuckled – I guess from her point of view it was kind embarrassing. "I suppose I could part with it for about $500 dollars."

I stopped laughing immediately. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Babette looking at me in shock – despite not being familiar with our money she knew that was probably a lot.
"No problem," I said shortly, and gave him the money. "Thanks, you have no idea how lucky I was to find it." After losing five hundred bucks I was in no mood to stick around, so we headed for the exit.

"Goodbye," Babette said back to the shopkeeper, "thank you so much for taking care of me!"

That probably confused him a great deal, but we were out the door and it wasn't our problem any more. "Thank you, wizard," she said once we were out of earshot. "Thank you so much. For everything. I did not wish to cost you even more after you did so much for me-"

I waved my hand in that oh-so-charmingly dismissive way. "Think nothing of it. And don't get any ideas about paying me back either. There's no way I was going to leave you there, after all. And call me Deco. Arthur Deco."

"Then thank you, Mr. Deco," she bowed slightly – we'd have to teach her not to be so regal.

"Er… actually it's just Deco, I- ah, you'll get it eventually."

"So," she said curiously. She breathed in the air around her and smiled as she felt the sun shine on her face – it felt pretty good to help someone reclaim that feeling. "What happens now?"

"Now? Well now we-" Enter the "oh crap" moment. "Uh oh… ooooh no! My date! I never ended up getting her anything! Oy…" Babette watched me carry on amusedly – yeah, well I'm sure it was a riot from her perspective. "You, er… wouldn't happen to have picked up any good ways to impress a lady from those kings and nobles and stuff, would you?"

She smiled widely. "I might have learned a few things…"

End

P.S.: I ended up getting her some jewelry and reciting a heartfelt bit of poetry. She ended up giving me a smack in the face. Go fig…