IN A UNIVERSE WHERE EVERYONE IS BORN WITH NUMBERS ON THEIR WRISTS COUNTING DOWN TO WHEN THEY’LL MEET THEIR SOULMATE, SEND ME 00:00:00 FOR MY MUSES REACTION TO THEIR NUMBERS HITTING ZERO WHEN THEY MEET YOURS.
The peasant village was poor, dirty, as her carriage came through. People wore rags practically, and most of them looked like they had hardly had any meat on their bones. They were all small, hunched over. Their little houses looked just as they did. Small, broken, and yet still standing.
There was talk of the Ogres coming. Slowly brewing in the southwest, and Lady Belle feared for the people along these roads. They would be the first to the front line. Their Duke was a ruthless man, and she more feared for the children. If the men failed to hold back the impending war, the Duke would no doubt send a line of children in next.
Her thoughts whispered away as she looked down, her fingers fiddling together in her worry. Her eyes widened as the timer on her wrist quickly approached zero.
Belle looked out the window again, her eyes following a man along the street.
"Stop the carriage!" She came out, waving the man down. "Y--You."