The bathroom is vast, made from white slate that stands polished and bold. The tiles below are marbled, specks of silver thrown across like glitter. In the centre of the room stands a tub, curved from the side and fitted with one long faucet that gleams. It's filled, the water foamy and misted slight pink, froth lifting to the surface and settling. Thick streaks of steam emanates from the surface, lifting to the ceiling before misting out into the room.
A sigh comes from the female currently smothered by the hot, nearly boiling, water. She sinks low in the tub, submerged just till the tips of her shoulders. Her skin brims red from being scalded; freckles darker than ever from the heat. They cover her entire cheeks, bridging to the tip of her nose, fierce and unafraid.
There isn't much that sits in her mind, simple basking in nothing but the water, red lips curled, and brows furrowed. She'd been home for nearly a week now, and had healed well, especially after the downing the pink vial Queen Harmonia had brewed for her. It restored her strength and mind but couldn't rid the small scars and nips that now were permanently etched into her skin, scattered upon her back, stomach and limbs. She never had any sort of scar tarnish her before, yet now they litter her.
The other vial still stands on her sink, adorning a devilish tint every time it catches her eye. Her father had offered it to her, but she couldn't bring herself to take it. The events happened, and she would just have to live with it. How could she forget all the girls that passed? She had to remember them. She had to pray for them. She had to honour them.
Lucrezia was well aware of the big meeting held in King Phobos' office – the whole palace spun with vigour. All the handmaidens and servants whispered loudly in the hallways about the small peeks they managed to get, gossiping and frolicking with one another. However, her father didn't breathe a single word about what had concurred. She suspects he doesn't want to hound her mind with anything but herself at the moment. But still, she was curious. There was a shift in the world – something she was tied in.
Fear pulls at her. It was all going to be different now. The air spurred with change, brewed with mischief. It was hard because it felt like she was put into purgatory – a plateau of sorts. She itched, her nerves tickling her. Was it her destiny just to sit back when she lived in the core of it? She woke Eros. Was that it now? Was it no longer in her hands?
She didn't know. She didn't think anyone knew.
Her insides twists hard, sitting empty. It was hard to stomach anything right now, sticking to soups and nutrient dense broths the kitchen would make her. She just didn't have an appetite. It didn't help that her sleep was scuffed, eyes hounded with nightmares the moment they closed. Melatonin was her only relief, but even with that her rest never felt truly satiated. Taking the pink vial did ease things, and she was sure it would continue easing things until it left her system, slowing repairing everything to as it was. It wouldn't let her mind collapse.
As she sits in the tub her body and mind are still; but they aren't one, her muscles and nerves unable to truly relax and give into the heat. Something sits uneasily within her, she no longer feels the same. It's as if the very wiring of her body has become unthreaded, and now seeks to thread again differently. She can no longer exist as her, but it seeks to become someone else. It's a longing that sits achingly within her now, and she knows why. She knows what she has, despite all the odds. Her soul is naturally preparing her – she wasn't her, she was just a mere half right now.
This odd, uncomfortable feeling of want and unsureness in herself wouldn't cease; it was just the Moon's way of pushing her choices together.
As a young girl, she had read about the mate bond often, and always felt so intrigued. She thought it was romantic and yearned for such a thing. As she grew older, she felt sad she couldn't ever experience it. Recently, when it crossed her mind all she could think about was how convenient it was; she didn't have to choose or find anyone. It was just there, given to her on a platter. She thinks nothing about it now.
