(Calista)
A foggy mess is what I would describe these memories. They are memories after all. Fades over time, that's what they do.
I sigh into a chair as I try to sit down with hoops of wires making my dress appear bigger. It is hard to sit.
I scan the room for something to do other than wallow in the heat of the daylight. My eyes land on a stack of letters. I carefully tear open each and every one of them. Most of them from my "father". Until I come across one that caught my eye. An invitation to a tea party. I've never been fond of tea...I always preferred coffee...
Hmmm...I'm the daughter of the grand duke now, I can do whatever I want...I'll attend the tea party in a few days, but for now I'll see if I'm still the champion marksman of our department.
I take my big dress and head to the training grounds. Where sweaty men go to prove their worth through swinging wooden or steel swords, I've always wanted to try swordfighting. I just never had the time.
I pick up a long range shotgun and load it. A few knights see me do this and start to gather around me. One of the maids hold pigeons to throw as I aim at them mid air. Not usually the gun range I go to, but good enough.
I shoot down all the birds one by one as the knights all stare in awe.
"My lady!"
One knight exclaimed as I load my gun.
"You're quite the marksman! Your father would be proud."
Father? Hm...I guess the grand duke would be.
"Have you ever tried sword fighting, my lady?"
One of the knights ask courteously.
I suppose I haven't...I lay down my shotgun nearby and pick up a wooden sword as I look at it curiously.
"Now...would any of you like to spar?"
I chuckle softly as I looked at the knights. Which they look at me in turn, confusion written all over their faces as they look at my big dress.
I sigh and went back inside to change into something more appropriate.
A knight steps up and volunteered to spar with me.
Reno Dawn Astor, the son of the general of the black swan knights, which is the knights owned by the grand duke's dukedom. Maroon hair and a petite yet tall figure, what some would call a decorative knight. His yellow eyes that he inherited from his father. He's handsome, but unfitting to be a knight.
A few rounds of clashing swords later I beat him in less than 6 swings of my wooden sword. I'm pretty good at this.
I quickly dismiss myself from the knights after the spar and hurriedly went back to my chambers as I feel my head throbbing from pain. Did I overwork myself somehow? But it just hurts...like...parts of my brain are shifting and changing, like switching gears.
I lie on the bed trying to calm the sharp pain.
(Finian)
It was night as the moonlight creep into the cracks and crevices of my shed. My head is killing me. I can't go to work today. I can't move. I can't even control my breathing from the pain. Like a child is playing with my brain and wrecking it with crayons and paint.
After a few hours of agony later, the pain stops and I find myself breathing heavily on the floor...and later crying.
I wanna go back home. I don't wanna do this anymore. I miss my apartment in the city, I miss my family, I miss Calista.
After crying I find my eyes shutting quietly on the dirt covered floor and I awoke on the next day. I get dressed for work at the bakery, where I work as the baker's assistant in the kitchen. It's hard work but I wouldn't be able to live in the shed if I didn't, he pays me as well so it's good.
Rich nobles often frequent the bakery. Mostly for pastries for their tea parties and celebrations.
I've never been much of a baker, I've always been an artist. Actually...I used to be a tattoo artist in my past life, I'm known to always have a soft and gentle hand in my art...Calista has always been the opposite...she's a police detective after all so I guess it's always been in her nature.
I can never seem to forget her...
Carrying and delivering bread to villagers all over town is one of my responsibilities as of late, since the taxes have been increased by orders of the imperial palace and inflation prices have skyrocketed the baker wasn't able to afford to keep the delivery boy. So I get paid for more work.
I was walking back to the bakery shed after a long day of delivering bread, I can hear faint footsteps of the squatters and the squeaking of the mice that will probably be their future meals.
A hooded man pulls me into a dark alleyway and puts a dagger to my throat as he pins me to the wall.
"Give me all your money."
I hear him whisper in an aggressive tone.
Strange...back then I would've cowardly pull out my pocket and hand it to him. I guess my new life made me get used to stuff like this.
"Look pal, were both struggling in these streets. If you really wanted money that badly next time rob someone who actually has something to give."
I snarked back.
The man sighs, his grip on my dirty shirt collar loosens and I managed to escape.
Shuffling as I try to find my keys in the dark night with only a small dripping candle in my other hand to comfort me. Bushes rustling in the background due to the cold night air. A chill runs down my spine as the cold breeze hit my rosy cheeks.
"I think I forgot something..."
I quietly mumble to myself.
I enter my "home" and quickly shut the door behind me. Quietly I sit down on the bed.
I wonder how I got here. I died? Is that it? Is that why I have to suffer like this? Everyday I hope for a different outcome than before yet I always end up in the same moldy shed and the same creaky bed.
Why must I live like this? Just because I'm a peasant orphan…