The carriage slowed to a halt and the coachman jumped down his seat. Tibetha could hear his footsteps against the gravel, rounding to the carriage door before he pulled it open.
He curtsied, much to her surprise.
As she stepped down the carriage step, a group of children surrounded her. They giggled and fawned in admiration of her vehicle's exterior — Tibetha had never known that something as simple as a black shiny carriage could be the object of anyone's fancy — and gushed something amongst themselves. Their voices were squeaky and loud as they picked a volunteer. One of the two girls took a step closer to Tibetha and held out a hand with a pink pearl in her sweaty palm.
Tibetha raised a curious brow.
"Do you like it?" asked the little girl, her soft eyes crinkling with her big smile.
Face hidden under her hood, Tibetha could comfortably smile at their cuteness, without being judged. "I do. It's really pretty," she mused, resisting the urge to crouch in front of the child and talk to her, face to face.
Tibetha had to remind herself that she was only getting positive attention because she was dressed better and different. She shouldn't be attracting these kind faces if she had shown up as herself.
"Take it, you're pretty," the child urged.
Tibetha's breath hitched. The little girl tip toed to reach her hand above the lady's waist.
'She isn't offering this to you, Tibetha, she is offering this to a veiled girl, dressed in pretty clothes, and stepping out of a pretty carriage. She doesn't know the monster you are.'
That made most sense.
"Do you not want it?" The little girl blinked and looked around her friends for support. "Yeah, take it! You're very beautiful!" Another kid insisted, followed by a couple of puppy eyes.
'Do I deserve such kindness?'
Tibetha could not mull over it for a long as her parents' coachman rushed to the children and shouted, "Scram you little devils. Don't get close to the lady! Go away now!"
The kids flinched and huddle into a singular unit, staring simultaneously at the unpleasant intruder in offence and at Tibetha for defence.
He was technically correct. It was safe to stay away from her — but the way he said it was quite not nice when talking to kids.
"Don—" she opened her mouth but was instantly brushed away.
"Don't defend them, they're all dirty," the coachman clapped loudly over their tiny heads and they squirmed as a unit.
She saw it then, their unruly hair, snot clogged noses and dried remains of food and spit stuck around the corners of their mouth. Their clothes were tattered all over and feet bare on the gravel.
They were all just like her.
"These kids would give you stuff and then cling to you all day for food, water and money. Parasites, I swear," the coachman tsked, "Go study or work, you little demons!" He shouted at the kids again. His voice was deep and gruff enough to make the kids scatter away.
She was a parasite to her family as well.
So, it was all a part of their scheme— no kindness, no curtsy.
Tibetha eyed their small frames, running away. She wished they'd spare her a look, a look of exasperation or betrayal, that would prove the coachman wrong— but they ran on and hogged another carriage that halted in front of a porch.
Why had she trusted them so quick? Was this world as phoney as the one she had came from? Were they no different afterall?
"Let's make our way in," the coachman pointed at the name of the place, "Seashell Plateau," they had stopped in front of. It was an oyster eatery, built upon a stepped elevation.
"This was once a plateau, you kids know what a plateau is, right?" A man pointed at the stairs they were standing over.
Tibetha took a step to stand on the stairs, leaving her disappointment back on the ground.
He was surrounded by a dozen of kids, seemingly students, who nodded their heads vigorously. "Good! Because this place is very essential for our Geography! Fun fact: as our world-island is surrounded by water on all sides, our international food happens to be all sea-foods!"
Tibetha took a few steps up.
He tip-toed to point in an ambiguous direction where the ocean was supposed to be. His blonde locks swayed with the gentle wind as he continued, "And because the capital is not a land locked state— you don't know what landlock is? Go home and ask your mum— so, we get to enjoy beaches around the fringe land! Our economy thrives on pearls and oysters as the main catch and this very place," he pointed a hand at the eatery behind him, "Here is the biggest Oyster eatery in all of the Northern Empire!"
"Touring kids," a familiar voice chuckled behind her. Tibetha turned to find her father walking over the stairs with her mother, hands interlocked and faces smiling. They did not seem like they were here to fatten her up and sell her away for good.
They did not seem out of place at all, considering that they had all came from the same place. They seemed to fit right in, blend in the crowd with eyes only for eachother, like always.
"Our Tibetha could never be one of them; she'd always get sick before a trip," mother chuckled, much like a stab through Tibetha's heart.
"Keep moving on, it's table number seven," said Mr. Cordelia, clearing his throat, "I think I forgot my shawl in the coach."
"Oh dear!" Mrs. Cordelia sighed and untangled her hand with her husband's. As he stepped down the stairs, she stepped up to meet Tibetha halfway through. They stood beside eachother, for the first time in a long time, in a public place without holding scowls on their faces or tears in their eyes.
"You of all people know that life is most unpredictable, right Tibetha?" questioned mother, looking everywhere else before facing her daughter. She was adorned in a pastel blue dress, looking as young as the days Tibetha remembered of her childhood. "You must always be ready for the next leap. I trust you," she claimed, before leaning in and locking her arms around Tibetha's torso.
She patted her daughter's back, quite awkwardly.
"Go on in, I'll check on your father," she pulled back and descended down the stairs without another glance.
Tibetha remained standing with a palpitating heart, sweaty hands and quivering lips. What change? What leap? What trust?
Did mother care afterall?
"Come on kids! I'll tell you all about the tables inside!" The bright eyed, bright haired, teacher huddled the students as they made their way inside.
Tibetha too climbed up the stairs and walked through the seashell decorated doors. The concept of doors seemed redundant for there was no roof or walls to separate it from the exterior.
Weathered wooden tables and chairs, each meticulously crafted to resemble the treasures of the sea, were scattered across the plateau's surface. Delicate seashell patterns adorned the tables, with numbers elegantly engraved on the shells, guiding Tibetha to the seventh spot.
A few tables beyond hers was the chef's cooking station, featuring a wood-burning stove, copper pots, and an array of fresh seafood ingredients. He worked with a humongous knife, slicing and chopping with precision. Different odours mixed with eachother and rose to the skies with a resemblance to smoke.
The place was bustling with people, sounds of their laughter and clinking oyster shells as they joked around with the chef and enjoyed their meal. Somewhere far behind, there were a group of people playing instruments to keep up the outgoing ambience of the place.
It was a truly beautiful place, Tibetha thought, as she took a seat. Did mother trust her enough to be seen in public with her? At a place as beautiful as this?
Everyone seemed so satisfied with their life— were they secretly struggling like her as well? Or were they just born and bred with smiles and joy?
Tears of envy pooled in Tibetha's eyes. She clenched her hands together, feeling overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds she had been subjected to. Her mind wanted to enjoy, to let go, to set free, but her soul knew she did not deserve it.
"M'lady?" Tibetha looked up to find a handkerchief in front of her face. "I think you might need it," the man dangled it.
"Ah-uh," Tibetha spluttered and wiped her face with her hands and gloves, not daring enough to ruin his dainty handkerchief. "No, thank you. That was very kind of you," she choked out with a slight bow.
The man chuckled, pulling the handkerchief away from her face he folded it for safekeeping in his breast pocket. "I think most ladies would prefer the term gentleman," he smiled. It was gentle, it was full, he seemed without malice as his dark eyes stared directly into hers. Tibetha had to crane her neck to keep up with the trance because he was tall. He did not leave after pocketing the handkerchief and it was cue enough for Tibetha to look down again.
She couldn't believe she almost showed him all of her unhygienic face. When he was so clean, well groomed, and dazzling against the sunlight.
"C-can I help you with something?" She asked, evading contact and staring at the floor instead.
"Oh, no, I'm just waiting for my betrothed," he shrugged and Tibetha couldn't help but notice the wideness of his shoulders and the firmness of his chest. She gulped.
"Oh, I see. I'm sure she's a gorgeous lady!" She exclaimed, holding up two thumbs for absolutely no reason. She realised her dumb move in a moment and retreated her hands to fold across her chest.
"Ah, I hope so..." he let out a small laugh, it was quite calming, "I have yet to meet her."
Tibetha winced and looked up instinctively. "Have you been caught up in an arrangement?" She asked with her lips pressed together in pity.
"Oh, most certainly," he scrunched his chin, eyes never leaving hers now that he had caught them again.
"What woe," Tibetha mused, without a thought. His eyes were dark, just like hers, and Tibetha couldn't see anything within them. It felt nice.
"Oh? Are you in an arrangement yourself?" He asked, full lips contouring to a downward frown, as if he wanted to share woes with her.
"No!" Tibetha all but screamed, "I'd rather die than succumb to that sort of slow death! Supporting someone when my back cannot even support my body, It'd be torturous for both of us."
He laughed, hard enough that he had to close his eyes and turn his head. Tibetha felt a pang of pity for she couldn't look at him anymore. His teeth shone brighter than all the pearls in the Capital.
"It's a pity, lads out there are missing on a lady as beautiful as you," he worded, eloquent enough to make her grit her teeth and look away in embarassment. Who's gonna tell him that no one would be at a loss for not being with her?
"Oh, you humour me," she coughed out dryly, not having courage to look up again. His legs were long, pants perfectly ironed and shoes shiny enough to reflect her lavender robe. He seemed rich enough to not be a scam.
"Lord Emir," he held out a hand, introducing himself.
Tibetha was obliged to look up in consideration, "Ah, Lady Cordelia," shook his hand awkwardly, unmoving from her seat.
His brows raised momentarily but he did not let shock register in his face. "Oh? Of the founding family?" He asked as he pulled his hand back.
"Heh, yes, talking of family, I think mine just abandoned me," Tibetha resisted the urge to snort. What was she expecting? A wholesome family dinner? A reunion? A redemption arc?
"And I seem to have been stood up. Let's form a pity party," he joked, mouth breaking into a grin.
"A loss for the lass, I must say," Tibetha replied, unsure of which brain cells were sustaining this conversation without wanting her to die ten times over.
He just felt comfortable. A very strange thing to think about a stranger who was already betrothed.
She did not feel like a lesser being under his sight— nor did she feel like she had expectations to uphold. In that moment, she was just a girl, albeit unhygienic, in a place with many other girls— trying to make the most out of an encounter.
Right?
"Were you born and raised in the captial?" His question brought her back, his eyes on hers. They held kindness in them, something she hadn't even found in the mirror lately. She recognised it, from her mother's eyes, but that was all.
"Most certainly," she replied, unsure of why she was being treated with such kindness and how long it would last.
"Why, then you must show me around!" He exclaimed abruptly, much to her surprise.
"Oh no, I cannot hold your time! And- uh, it's my first time in the festival." She stammered her way through truth, instantly regretting it because she botched any more chances of being a recipient to his kind eyes.
"Oh, pardon me but what is an abandoned lady and a stranded man to do if not entertain eachother?" He chuckled, "I'm new too, we might as well explore together?"
"Uh—" Tibetha resisted.
"I insist."
"Okay."
His kind eyes won.