↳ ੈ‧₊ 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐘.wmmapˎˊ˗

* ੈ𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝙰𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚃𝚛𝚎𝚎



⇣ 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙳𝙴 𝙼𝙴 𝙰 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂？⇡

The doors opened wide. Outstretched and welcoming you to its very own abode. When you look forward, the inside of the house is lit. Almost dim, but enough to let you see the various paintings of nobles that you haven’t met, or had.

When you take your first few steps, you see the tall statue of a tall marble woman, wrapped loosely in a long cloth that shines brightly to you. At her feet are thorned roses that tangle and squiggle around like fire. There is no hurtful expression on her face, nor is there any sign of discomfort. She is completely emotionless in her very cracking, antiquated form. You do not recognize this woman, nor believe she would be an important figure in your life. Nevertheless, the sculpture does not fail to capture your interest.

Suddenly, a man wearing black and white comes to you. Ranell. He is as old as time, though he only appears younger due to his mana or supernatural abilities. You’re not sure if it’s quite normal for a butler to be supernaturally gifted.

‘Isn’t that a royal family thing?’ You thought to yourself. You do not care nor do you wish to put the effort into it.

“Greetings Miss [ Name ]. How has the Ruby Palace been treating you?” You look at Ranell, unsure on how to act even around him. His elf-pointed nose, almost twitches as he gazes at you. Disgust? Perhaps. He was neutral from what you can remember. Though, you doubt he is any less different from the snakes that slither around in this  house.

“Hello to you too Ranell. The Ruby Palace has been just fine,” you say. Although that is half-true, you dare not want this man snitching to the owners about how you were doing. Even if that has any matter of the discussion.

“That is delightful to hear. Right this way, your parents are waiting for you in the meeting room,” He tells you, turning his back, he guides you to the place you wish not to be. But chose so anyways for whatever reason.

Various paintings dine on the wall. Naked men and women, born just to be modest. One painting in particular was covered in a cardinal red cloak that barely hides the purple plum dress. Her manner is almost tree-like as her hands limp down like branches that wish to bask themselves in warmth from this cold.

Finally, Ranell opens the doors with the window that almost blinds you, and relaxes after a few seconds. There you see the same man and woman from your flashback a few minutes ago. Just as it had shown you, their looks are as stained as wine on a lady’s plain white dress.

Your mother’s dejected eyes showed no sign of any delight at all. She is nothing but an empty shell, that makes the most noise when disrespect is shown against your father. This man. Her pale and cold husband, who knows no love. A man destined to die alone on his bed. Perhaps this woman would even give herself up for him. For a love that does not exist. A woven stuff of childish dreams.

“Good evening, Mother and Father,” your courtesy painfully, knowing full well that it was terrible. You really haven’t gotten used to all of the ways of this world. Though, part of you knows you didn’t put the effort into it. These people, why should you waste your breath for them? This pain, it’s not yours, but you can’t help but feel angry at them. The way they look, the way they talk. How they seem and appear to be. Beautiful Creatures.

Your mother, taken away by her trance, looks at you with a false happiness. Her wrinkles show, and dispersing dimples that tell you how old she is now.