The Trial of Dreams and Memories (TMM 2)

The Ball

Morai was playing the piano in another room as people arrived. She wanted something to put all of her focus into, something to take her mind off of what seemed like a rather grim situation. 

"Morai," Maria said, Pollie standing beside her. "You're already a bit late. You probably shouldn't wait in here much longer."

"Alright, alright," she sighed, finishing off her piece and getting up. "You two look nice," she said. Maria wore a beautiful gown in the same color as Morai's vest suit, while Pollie had gone for a deep blue pantsuit. It had a cape that made it look quite regal. 

"And you look handsome," Maria replied with a smile. Morai liked being called handsome, and she knew it. They had gotten to know each other more over the past several weeks, but Maria was still often left to wonder whether Morai really did care, or if it was all some sort of facade. Despite the warmth she tried to give, her touch seemed cold and hallow, unwilling to divulge much about herself. But then again, there wasn't much of her rather limited memory to divulge that Maria didn't already know. Could Morai really love, or was it true that the serum had killed any capability of true love? Was Giovanni right that day in saying that their relationship would end with her bleeding on the floor at the hands of the one she loved and who supposedly loved her? She'd like to think not. 

The ball was set up in yet another room that had been previously unknown to Morai. It was as nearly as big as the dining hall, and when the double doors were opened to reveal quite the crowd of obvious high-ranking International Police officers and people from her past, the prisoner, all dressed up in maroon and black, nearly turned away.

No. I'm behaving like a coward. I had my foot on top of the world when I was free, and I'm not about to get crushed under theirs. 

"You're Morai!" one man out of a group that had approached her said. 

"That's me!" she replied. 

"I've heard a lot about you," he said with a tone that implied it was mostly bad. This is where a normal person could reply "All good things, I hope!" but Morai had to find something else to say. Instead, she awkwardly chuckled. 

"You don't look any different than the day you were arrested," an older woman blankly pointed out. 

"Sometimes change is most apparent on the inside, in the soul," Morai replied, though her soul wasn't much different than the day she had been arrested. It was so out of balance, in fact, that the imaginary people representing its parts had vanished. 

"Yes...you just look so...off-putting. Those sharp teeth and claws, that hair, not to mention your eyes," the same woman said. Morai realized then that they had turned red. "If it looks like a Ducklett, swims like a Ducklett, quacks like a Ducklett..."

"I may look like a beast, but hopefully I can show that I don't act like one," Morai finally said. She was very surprised at the woman's honesty, and while it was unnerving, it was nice to have social interactions not veiled with some fake layer of niceties and white lies. She had thought an event like this would be rife with them, everyone wearing a mask to hide the fact that she was being watched and judged and even sentenced all in one night. 

Sheridan saved the conversation from going any further. As the group left, Morai turned to the warden. 

"You're afraid. Not of me, but of something else. What is it?" she quietly asked. Sheridan looked as if she was hesitant to answer, as if bringing attention to it would make it worse. 

"It's...Arthur," she whispered. "He hasn't come back and I haven't heard from him. He knew how important it was that he be back here on time tonight."

"Oh...Do they know?" Morai asked, nodding to the group that had just left them.