She flinched slightly at his words, gaze falling to the sand. Whether he was right or not didn’t matter, she still felt guilty for the loss of life. It was a strange thing, wasn’t it? She was sad that those that would have harmed her in unimaginable ways had died painfully. If only she had stayed home, within her golden cage, then none of them would have suffered because of her selfishness.
She only looked up when he crouched before her, blue eyes shining with tears she kept at bay. “They understand it… the ones that are aware,” she murmured. “They understand and they don’t care,” and something like disgust flashed through her gaze as she blinked her tears away. “They delight in it… and I don’t understand why,” she admitted, sniffling. And it was that lack of understanding, that missing cruelty and callousness that made her an outsider in her own home.
The bracelet was intricately carved, meant to be beautiful, while also suppressing her abilities. It was just another piece of the cage she’d lived her whole life in. She held his gaze, seemingly unafraid of his wrath. “You’re wrong,” she argued for the first time. “I’m a woman… I’m not the male heir my father so desperately wants…” Even if other families didn’t give a damn, her father did. He wanted so badly to be one of the elite families, like the Figarland’s or Shepherds’. It would never happen, unless she married well, which was unlikely.
Who would ever want to marry the Angel of Mary Geoise?
“My value is based on who I marry… and if I can provide my husband with a son… My own father chained me in sea prism stone…” she said, hand moving absently to the bracelet around her thin wrist. Yet none of her struggles compared to those of others and she knew that. She had wanted to see the beauty of the Lower World, but he would show her the ugliest parts of it before her death. Maybe that was for the best. It was what she deserved, wasn’t it?
She may have never personally harmed anyone or wished harm on anyone, but her very existence harmed others.
Her gaze remained on him, even as he moved away, and she only moved to stand when she felt that she wouldn’t immediately collapse again. “I’ll be good,” she promised, moving to follow him. “What… what do I call you?” she asked as she followed him to the treeline, mindful to keep her distance as she assumed he didn’t want her near him.
“My name’s Melody…” Not Saint Melody. Just Melody.
