5. The Telling of a Tale

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➹ Flashback ➹

The sky gleamed a grim white showing no signs of the sun attempting to break free from the shelter of the clouds, typical English weather. You walked the streets of Cambridge with your mother beside you, amongst the many other civilians of your class, on your way to a bakery shop not too far from home. Your mother suggested for you two to take the carriage but you argued you both could use the fresh air and exercise, seeing as to how sunlight wouldn't be a valid excuse considering how it is rarely displayed. But finally, although a little less than willingly, your mother complied.

Thus far, the walk was taken in a comfortable silence. It gave you time to observe the ambiance of the streets and the mundane aura of those in your high social class. The women walked with their backs straight, corsets tight and the hem of their light silk dresses low. The men amongst them wore their fancy yet casual dark suits of fine linen, occasionally tipping their hat and bidding certain passersby a good day. You rolled your eyes at the insipidness of today you were to face. On the rooftop of a building ahead of you, next to the bakery, you noticed a raven bird comfortably perched atop. Like any other flying creature, the raven possessed the ability to fly whenever and wherever it may deem most suitable for itself. How you envied such liberty. The fact that a bird had more freedom than you just made it all seem even more insulting.

The bird turned its head, briefly catching your gaze, then back to the movements of life happening on the ground below. You never once dropped your stare from the bird, even as the muffled callings of your name got louder. It took a small nudge at your arm to bring your vision back to ground level as your mother then brought you back into her conversation.

"(y/n)?" she asked. "Aren't you excited? The day is only a week away!"

You sighed and rolled your eyes again as you realized what it was your mother had been talking about this entire time. "Ecstatic, Mother," you replied in a monotone voice. "Can't you hear the excitement in my voice."

Your mother gave you a tired look before saying her rather overused retort. "Oh, (y/n), enough. How many times must I remind you? This is a good thing. Don't you see it, my dear?"

"I can do many things, Mother, except see things your way, or the way of your mother, and the way of her mother, and so on and so forth," you gloomily replied with another slight roll of your eyes.

She gasped in shock of your response and you sighed once more.

"I'm sorry it's just- you know I'm not exactly on par with this...wedlock."

"I shall never understand why, (y/n). It's such a perfect match for you," she stubbornly shook her head.

"No," you quickly counteracted, "his money is a perfect match for you."

She gasped again in an offended manner before pursing her lips and shaking her head once more in dismay. "Why can't you see, dear, that I am only doing what is best for you?"

"What is best for me?" You repeated in bewilderment. "How can you know what is best for me if you've never asked what I deem best? You've never asked if I was ready to take this step, you've never asked if I wanted to take this step! You never stopped to consider asking what I want!"

Your mother halted in her steps, rapidly ogling from side to side at the people who stared at her and your ranting form. Attention is not something she currently wanted, at least not the kind she was getting. She quickly grasped your arm and lead you to a small corner of the shop next to the bakery. You complied before retreating your arm and crossing both in front of your chest.

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