"Did he arrive?"
"Yes Master, last night."
"What about the letter?"
"He received the letter at dawn. His response seemed quite affirmative." The young boy handed a manila envelope to his Master. Master Cordelia wedged his letter opener under its seal and flicked it open.
A subtle fragrance wafted from inside the envelope as the man of the household pulled out the letter it held. The crisp paper announced its seriousness with the immaculate cursive that didn't take Mr. Cordelia two glances to understand. His ever frowning forehead eased its creases and his big mouth broke into a smile.
The young boy hadn't seen this sight ever since young lady Cordelia's eighth birthday.
"That's the most brilliant news I've heard in a while!" Master Cordelia gasped, and flicked his finger against the paper, "Send it to Helene, please," he handed the letter back to the young lad.
The boy curtsied and opened the door to leave, only to stand face to face with young Lady Cordelia. She stood dead in front of the door, dressed and veiled; all he could see were her dark eyes, opened wide, staring unblinking. He winced, involuntarily, as her cold dark stare ran chills down his spine.
"M-morning young m-miss!" He sputtered, shifting against the door with big strides, "I-I must make haste!"
He did not wait for Tibetha to nod or acknowledge his greeting. He ran as fast as morally possible before she could look him in the eye again.
He was terrified of her.
Little did he know, she was terrified of him.
Her clenched jaw and wide eyes were to concentrate in attempts of not succumbing to her own thoughts; lest they'd all mock her again. Though, regardless of her efforts, she seemed to repel all humans.
Master Cordelia caught sight of her, standing dead in front of the door and called her in. She sucked in another breath and clenched her fists behind her back as she walked inside.
"What if he does not wants to take you anymore? What if everyone leaves you home alone?" The scruffy voice laughed in her head.
It made her gut sink.
A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders from behind. She flinched as a familiar voice exclaimed, "Oh, Tibetha, you're here! How wonderful," her mother stood in front and eyed her up and down. Everything was too silent here.
Would she notice the lack of health and hygiene? Tibetha wanted her to notice.
"Oh I knew it would look marvelous!" Mother pulled Tibetha's face in between her palms and held it with endearment.
So close. Would she notice the messy hair and everything? Would she stand up for her?
"Stop touching her so much," Mr. Cordelia swatted his wife's hands away from her daughter's face and wrapped an arm around her waist. "You might agitate her," he voiced, eyeing his cloaked daughter.
"You always agitate me," Tibetha replied with a dry scoff.
No one noticed. No one cared.
"Stand up for yourself," the scruffy voice drawled, "or mhm, not."
"Well today shall be the last of your agitations caused by us," Mr. Cordelia grunted before he walked out of the room and called for the coachmen to get the damned carriage ready for go.
She travelled alone. It was for the best of all involved.
"It also makes it super easy to murder you. Swish the carriage off a cliff, no one would know," the voice announced. It seemed humoured by Tibetha, as always.
"What about the coachman? He'd be an innocent victim," she grumbled, chin slotted over her palms as she eyed the rocky terrain through the carriage window.
"He might as well be the one doing the swishing and flicking," the voice snickered. The carriage bumped over a few rocks but it was enough to make Tibetha's heart clench and face drain of all colour.
They wouldn't kill her off in the woods, would they?
"Oh don't you worry, I wouldn't let you die."
That wasn't solace enough. It wasn't about dying in the first place. It was the thought of being betrayed by her own family that made her heart wrench. Even if she deserved it, she did not want it.
"Why are they taking me?" A familiar heat rose in her palms. The carriage gently swayed over a downward slope and Tibetha poked her head out to witness the beginnings of the Festival.
The road leading to the umland was adorned with pearl strings and pearly lanterns on both sides. Couples walked hand in hand, families walked side by side, children meandered around the poles by the streets, trying to catch hold of the hanging pearl strings to play with.
Tibetha could hear so much — the wind that gushed past her face, the wind chimes that danced along its airy companion. The birds that chirped in fervour and the distant ocean waves hitting against the mainland walls. The fishermen pulling their boats ashore, the synchronised cry of the oyster farmers; the sizzle of oil and vegetables being fried and the scratching of the ladle against the pot. There were footsteps, everywhere, loud, draggy, or stomping over the ground. They seemed human. Her heart skipped a beat. The streets were lively because of the people inhabiting it, their beautiful laughter birthed butterflies in her stomach.
They were so happy...and free.
With every spin of the carriage's wheel, Tibetha's heart yearned for more of this moment. She hoped to be an observer of this moment, for forever. For the first time, she did not feel undeserving for yearning something. As simple as the smile of the child who was petting a street dog. As wonderful as the excited wag of the dog's tail. As calming as the bright blue skies above her and as majestic as the kites that flew in it.
There was a whole world out there. There were all these people, living their own lives, Tibetha could only wonder how.
A person passed by, their hands interlocked with an old woman's. Was their joy momentary? Were they always happy? Are they a mother and daughter? Or are they a grandmother and grandson? How long would the old woman live? Would this be her last festival? Was she sick and dying? Or did they do this every year, maintaining a sense of ritual in the family?
The carriage moved on, Tibetha's thoughts did not.
She wanted to know more about the world. This world, which seemed so different from where she came. There was so much noise in this world, but somehow, everyone only focused on the ones they loved. Everyone was dressed so different, yet they all walked together in a shared space. They all fit in. Tibetha could willingly lose herself in this chaos. There were no eyes on her.