Could they ever forgive and forget?
No, she was just a demon.
Every footstep fell like the pitter patter of raindrops, small and frantic amongst the ground. Her soft white dress was specked with gray at the hem. A distant roll of thunder roared, and she instinctively clutched at herself in the freezing wind. Was it so cold, this deafening silence? Or the words she told herself?
No, it...
The horizon painted a sooty, nefarious landscape, yet she ran towards it without a missed step. There it was! The sanctuary! She rushed past the guard stationed at the iron gate with an inexplicable haste. Not even a glance. What did he look like, again?
"I'm so-sorry!"
Her choppy apology was lost in the wind. Maybe she could've done more, said something else that was a bit more sincere than it currently was. But he was just a... Guard, right? The others would just say so. Mister Guard! No, after all these years, she still hadn't learned his name.
Was she any better than they were?
The rain was salty on her lips, and she harshly wiped them away just for the raindrops to fall with an annoying vigor. No, she promised that. Nothing for them. Not again, not again, not again, not---
"Comtesse Furfur!"
A hand grabbed her arm with a grip too strong to wring out of. The guard from earlier pulled her to the shade of the garden gazebo, and with a tired huff, coaxed her down into the wiry chair.
No, not a guard. He wasn't. Even through muddled eyes, the face reflected was much too young to be their war veteran of a protector. All she saw were wisps of dark wavy hair shadowing her face. He wasn't special. All of her brothers had the same hair color.
Silver eyes amongst the rainy backdrop.
"I'm sorry, I can't do it, I can't do it." She shook her head, droplets of water splashing down onto the floorboards as a result. Who was she disappointing? A lot of people. But that was the truth, wasn't it? "I just can't. I'm sorry! I know you--- you told me to go talk, but it didn't work. It didn't work, Fran! They'll still hate me! They'll always hate me!" The back of her heels slammed on the legs of the chair, yet less of a slam than a pitiful thump.
A white handkerchief patted away the raindrops at her lashes. He knelt down and wiped away at her face, but why should he? The effort would always be in vain. She stifled a few hiccups and balled the long-abused dress into her fists.
"Now, Mademoiselle." His words were soft despite the cracking of thunder, nearly downed out if it wasn't for his close proximity. "Did you say sorry? And mean it?"
An exaggerated nod. He took the handkerchief away from her face. "And what did they say?"
Her lip quivered. "They-they said---" She stopped herself short as the words lodged themselves in her throat. All that left her lips was a sputter that was followed by another sob.
"Hm?"
Furfur broke out into a bawl. "I---! Demons shouldn't--- I, I don't---" A hand started patting reassuringly at her head. "I know I did something wrong and they shouldn't forgive me at all! B-but what if I'm just a demon?"
"But you are. You are a demon." Another round of tears erupted from her bright red eyes, now narrowed from its once innocent shape. "Now--- listen to me. You know why I like you?"
"N-no." Why should he? Nobody else would. Nobody else. And to be a human? Is that not a reason enough to hate a demon?
"Because you are a demon, Comtesse. A demon who always thanks the maids in the hall. A demon who always makes the gardeners laugh. A demon who likes pink roses. A demon who loves her mother more than some humans ever will. A demon who makes mistakes and apologizes for them. A demon who wants to make things up." His voice continued at its awfully soothing tone despite the thundering skies. "And if all they can see is a demon... That doesn't mean you are a demon without your good side. And you're an amazing demon, Comtesse. Not all demons are evil like they say. Not all humans are victims. There are the good and bad sides of everybody; nobody fits into a neat little box. The people who can't see them are blind."
"Blind?"
"Just imagine a world without color, Comtesse. That everything is just a scale of black and white. You miss all the colors of the world, yes? That's called ignorance. And some people need to be cured of it. Those good people like you... Well, you just need to move on with an open heart. The others will learn in time."
Furfur looked up to see a heartfelt smile.
"So go find some friends who will accept all the colors of you, okay?"
After all those years since then...
Furfur finally understood. How Dantalion had run out right after, apologizing to him for something some ten year old kid like her couldn't understand. Why Francis said those words to her.
She looked at the back of that caravan with a promise held in her heart and a note for a locket to her chest.
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Okay so I realized that I've never explained Furfur's and Francis' relationship in the roleplay and probably never will. So here's a short background story that raises more questions than answers lmao. Francis is 15 in the flashback and then 21 when he left----
*also please put on caps for the song oof*
