Musicians lined the streets, each playing a different instrument but as if their minds were connected, all individual notes came together into an overwhelming symphony. It made Tibetha's heart flutter as she walked past those talented individuals, in awe of the world they were immersed in, sharing nods and glances amongst eachother yet playing their part with heart and soul.
The games area was different.
Stalls after stalls were lined together in colourful competition with eachother. The kids rushed up to one and agressively demanded Lord Emir to play. It required him to throw circular hoops over objects, in order to win them.
He agreed with much enthusiasm, his dark eyes brightening at the prospect as if he were a child as well. Holding the kids' hand in one, he paid for the ticket with another. Their smiles were a resonance of sheer happiness. They had lost themselves in the moment, leaving behind all the inhibitions that kept them from unleashing their true selves.
Emir was excellent at throwing the hoops; though, unfortunate for him there was another man who dominated the game. He threw hoops over objects as fast as one could blink in a minute. He hoarded all the gifts for himself and moved onto the next stall.
"What a selfish little man!"
"Cruel creature, tsk."
"Rude and shallow!"
"Emotionless sod."
Emir and the kids badmouthed that man together.
Tibetha wondered how easy it was to be comfortable with someone. If there was no difference between the kids' and her state— then why were they happy and why was she so miserable?
"They're kids. They don't eat themselves from the inside like you do. You'd chew yourself apart," its scratchy voice replied to Tibetha's concerns.
Emir and the kids moved on to another stall. They had to catch fishes and organise them by colour and breed as fast as possible to win the prize. That man was there as well. He was big, burlesque, and loud with his laughs as he dominated the game, seperating the fishes with such speed and precision as if he were a merman.
"You've been ignoring me all day. I'd be upset if I didn't know better," it drawled in her head.
Emir and the kids lost again, but they won a consolatory pearl crown. They seemed happy with that small win against the man who hoarded all the gifts again, shoving them in baskets that his train of servants carried behind him. He seemed equally happy as Emir and the kids.
"Small wins matter, but no one remembers the them. How long can one live by pleasing themselves and not impacting others? He's selfish, he's winning, he's happy. Do you feel that he's an arsehole for winning everything all for himself?" It asked.
Tibetha shook her head in response to the voice. The man was following all the rules and having fun— there was nothing wrong about his behaviour, yet it made her uneasy.
"That's because humans hold unrealistic expectations of eachother. You cannot expect everyone to hold your standards of sacrifice and decency. They're all different, like you. If you let me take control, all everyone would see will be you."
Tibetha clenched her fists.
"What a rambunctious soul."
She flinched at the suddenness of Emir's complaint, but nodded nonetheless. He held out a deliciously smoked squid, impaled by a wooden stick, in front of her and urged her to take it.
"Thank you, I was alright though," Tibetha shrugged, eyes faltering everywhere else to avoid contact with Emir's. She took the squid and couldn't help to wait a decent time before snagging a bite.
A burst of flavours invaded her mouth— spicy, salty and creamy— and she moaned in ecstasy. In a jiffy, the squid was inhaled and left Tibetha with a wide-eyed Emir.
"It was delicious," she huffed through the spice, trying to lick the stick clean.
"I can see that," he smiled and held out his squid-stick for her to take, "Have it. I don't really like sea food, I've been eating it for two decades, uninterrupted."
"Oh no no, I cannot—"
"Do you want something better?"
"Oh please, no!" She all but snatched the squid stick from his hand, fearing he'd misunderstand her as greedy and unsatisfied by simple things in life.
He laughed again. His smile reached his eyes and crinkled on their sides. It was charming.
"He's still at it," Emir pointed his chin at the man conquering all game stalls. "I wanted to win something for the kids...they seemed so happy," Emir muttered, turning to look at the kids who were huddled up in a small circle, holding two squid-sticks in each hand.
They were laughing over something, content with their lives. Did they always have it as easy as today?
"There's one place he cannot drain all by himself," Tibetha pointed out, gesturing a hand at a distant stall with a fluttering banner that read, 'Letters for the loved.' In tiny alphabets, the subscript read, 'Gifts for all participants!'
"Lady Cordelia! Are you a genuis?! Kids, come along!"
It was slow motion, his brows raising and cheeks lifting, eyes widening and teeth showing. Maybe he did not notice, maybe he did. But his hand grasped hers, almost making her choke on the squid-stick, and he led her to the stall with a bumbling group of kids in tow.
Tibetha's breath hitched and an odd warmth seeped into her cheeks. She felt choked— on the squid, or on the feeling so did not know— as they stood in front of the tiny brown shop decked with quills and parchment.
"Oh what a happy family! Welcome! A letter for each?" The keeper asked.
Tibetha coughed out that choking feeling.
"A letter for two, stickers for the lot," Emir replied, "You kids can get all the pretty ones you like!" He urged them to choose for themselves.
"Coming right up!" The slender man smiled and limped all over his isolated stall to get the order through. There was no one else but them on the stall and around it, no wonder the keeper seemed overjoyed to have them.
"Is there something specific you want to write about?" Emir asked, looking at Tibetha's fidgeting self.
"Um, not really? I mean— it's not like anyone is going to read it. What about you?"
"I'll write one for my betrothed," Emir smiled simply.
Ah, of course. His arrangement. How could she have forgotten that? She was so wrapped up in the wisp of kindness that he had shown today — that she was choking at the idea of becoming family to him.
He already had someone to count on, in the future.
She was the abandoned one.
"I'm sure she'll appreciate the gesture," Tibetha smiled, she tried to make it heartfelt. He deserved it. But it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"I hope so," Emir collected the letters from the shopkeeper and handed one to Tibetha. She thanked him and took monopoly over a small corner of the shop, wondering what to write.
Words and thoughts escaped her, so she looked around to see Emir and the kids huddled together in another corner. He was teaching them how to paste the stickers and decorate the letter. They giggled as one of the girls pasted a heart over Emir's forehead and another over hers.
Tibetha did not even know their names. Yet, she had spent almost a day with them, in anonymity.
Blues and oranges bled together as dusk overtook the day. Birds chirped and the ships honked, everyone was about to return home.
Tibetha dipped the quill in the ink pot and scratched a few words over the parchment, "I was enchanted to meet you." She blew over the liquid ink as it seeped into the paper and made a permanent spot of his brief history with her. As the ink dried, it solidified her believe of the day not being a part of her delusion.
She folded it with precision and kept it in an envelope, not knowing what else to do with it.
"Are you done, M'lady?" The shopkeeper asked, still smiling through his age lines and wrinkles.
"Yes, I am."
"Here's your gift," he held out a pearl bracelet for her to take, "My wife made them from the pearls that my son harvests."
Tibetha picked it up and pulled it over her gloved wrist. This was the first time, in a long time, that she had worn jewellery. "It is beautiful. Your wife is really good at it," she whispered, holding her wrist up and against the setting sun. The pearls glowed slightly orange, slightly fiery, under the influence of evening light.
"She's the best indeed, I love her the most."
Must be nice.
Tibetha smiled and pulled the hood of her robe back over her head. His wife must be a beautiful person, unlike Tibetha — a monster with unfortunate fate. A person who has killed people. An abandoned and hated girl who well deserves it all.
She remained still as Emir and the kids made their to her corner. Each kid held up their art pieces for her to judge, giddy with their smiles and toes.
"They're all beautiful, just like you folks," she ruffled one of the kids' hair. The little boy blushed and fidgeted away from her proximity.
"You are beautiful too, with your cap down," the boy mumbled, barely audible to anyone around him. Tibetha would have missed it if she hadn't been looking at him already.
What would she do after the day is done? When the sun sets and everyone leaves? Would she stay with these kids? Would they like her still when she's a burden with them?
"Come on, here are your prizes!" Emir distributed the small pearl trinkets that they had won. The keeper smiled proudly at the kids' excited reactions.
"Thank you so much! We love it! Thank you!" The kids echoed earnestly, which was uncharacteristic, but made Tibetha feel horrible guilty.
She had been thankless all day long.
When she had been surrounded by kindness and warmth, all she felt was doubt, worries and envy.
There was no way she could be anywhere closer to the kids. She was way worse.
Tibetha's back bent into a ninety as she too, earnestly echoed words of gratefulness, "Thank you very much. For accompanying me, for the time, for the food, for the smiles, for the gifts, the concern — I, uh, I appreciate it a lot!" She all but shouted in a wavering tone.
"Oh my goodness, Lady Cordelia! Please! Don't!" Emir exclaimed, red in the face, as he gripped her arms and pulled her back up.
Though, before she would cry with guilt and he would breathe in exasperation— a voice interrupted their moment.
"Lady Cordelia? Oh I have never seen you before! Not that I see any of you right now. What a pleasure, nonetheless!"
It was the man who had been hoarding gifts.