Like Clockwork

I discover / Anecdoche

There's something strange about the air.

It's...wet. Hot. Like she had just risen out of a bath. It's not refreshing, it's...awful. Compressing her like stones atop her skin, on all sides. Inescapable. Like the bright, blinding sun that warms their coastal town.

She doesn't know how she knows it's a coastal down. She cannot hear the ocean from where their house is, so drawn into the mainland. And how does she know their home is so far in?

When she comments about it to Mother, she's called daft. That the climate has always been that way. It's like that every summer. Most winters. She calls it humid.

Humid.

She tries the word out, her lips wrapping around the syllables like...

Like something.

"Goodness me, when you start doing things like that, you remind me of when you were a babe."

A babe?

The Ugly Stepsister pauses in her steps, brows furrowing. Yes, a baby. Like a baby learning to talk. Why did she forget what a baby was?

"Come on, chicken, let's go." Her sister pinches the fat peeking out from under her corset through the fabric of her clothes.

"Mother!"

She complains, whines, accosts.

"Mother! She called me a chicken!"

"Well you are plump like one."

"Girls, girls, you are too old to be bickering like this."

Behind the trio of women, Ashwallower silently follows. Watching the birds fly overhead.

-

Breakfast for him is fresh bread and a spread of preserved fruits and cheeses. He doesn't know the names of any of them, though he should. They're regional, made in the city he was born and raised in. A pride of his kingdom.

It all tastes like ashes in his mouth.

His father looks like him, he usually does, just a few decades down the line. Greying hair, worry lines on his face, a stoic and no-nonsense exterior. Handsome. And it makes sense because he, the Prince, must always be handsome, though the ways in which he is attractive often change. This time around, it's chiseled. Masculine. The king looks to have belonged in the fantasies of damsels during his youthful days. If the Prince finds a mirror, he's certain to see the same face, unlined, staring right back at him. Square chin, Greek nose, high cheekbones, strong brow.

It's different from his last body, where he was softer. More feminine. Like his mother.

His mother looks plain. Ubiquitous. As forgettable as all the faces of all the maidens he has ever laid eyes upon.

He prefers lives where he looks like his mother.

"--we are inviting the nobles from our neighboring kingdoms as well as several prominent artisans and merchants–" His father drones on and on, the Prince doesn't bother to really listen. Aside from a few changes, a few details, the ball always goes on the same. He no longer bothers to insist that he be the one to pick his bride. That he will not succumb to marriage unless he is wholly in love. That every eligible maiden in the kingdom be invited, regardless of wealth, class, or status.

No matter what he does, Ashwallower will always show up.

-End Notes-

i made a yandere server on discord, hmu if you want the link (adults only, obvs, no kids)