[center][h1][b]Wayra[/b][/h1][b]Time:[/b] Evening
[b]Location:[/b] The Park of Sorian [/center]
The scent of iron rode the wind and traveled through Sorian, fading in intensity and blending with other scents as it sailed through the air. By the time it reached Wayra’s nostrils, there was little left of the original smell. Yet Wayra could tell it was fresh blood from a life that was snuffed out much too early. As tragic as it was to hear the end of a song, this was nothing new here. There were plenty of other stories that came to an abrupt end tonight. If others cared enough to be more attentive, they’d’ve noticed it too. Not that it would change anything even if they did.

Sorian, the supposed grand jewel of Caesonia, reeked of rot. This place has been stagnant for much too long. Because nothing changed, the city decayed, infecting the very foundation with a taint. It would only be a matter of time till the infected pillars collapsed under the weight of the elite, crushing everyone below them in their wake. No one would come out unscathed from it. Even the highborn wouldn’t be immune to the consequences. Not if something changes soon. Perhaps, in their limited wisdom, it was what the crown was attempting to do by extending their annual party invitation to Alidasht.

A zephyr whispered to Wayra to look up. They raised their heads just in time to watch an owl release whatever it held in its talons. Wayra grabbed the furry thing before it hit the ground and examined it more closely. A headless, legless, tailless “rat”. Wayra brought the rat closer to their nose to sniff it. The pelt was definitely that of a rat, but this thing came from the freckled Varian. The unmistakable odor of his pipe seeped deeply into the fur. Wayra turned the rat around in their hands for a bit before plunging their fingers into its belly. The threads that held the skin in place snapped, allowing the entails —a cloth— to spill out. A cloth that smelled primarily of the dark-eyed Varian but also had a strong scent of another person. Snot and tears from another person. It wasn’t the best quality of ingredients they’ve ever worked with, but they’d have to make do.

[hr][hr][center][h1][b]Karleen[/b][/h1][b]Time:[/b] Evening
[b]Location:[/b] Danrose Castle Basement[/center]
To Karleen, the lifestyle of the upper class was something that came straight out of a fairy tale. The glitz and glam were candy to the giantess’ eyes, making her heart skip a beat just looking at them. The soothing music, enticing aromas, and delectable treats only added to her awe. How much she wanted to revel in the fantasy for a while longer. On the other hand, she knew she couldn't. Parties had to come to an end at some point, and she had to be grateful for even being able to set foot in the castle.

Though the muscles in Karleen’s face didn’t move an inch, inside the woman smiled at the thought of being able to walk freely without shackles. A simple action that so many on the surface took for granted. Something that Karleen could now do, just like the commoners. 

The life of the upper class might’ve been what the giantess dreamed of being a part of, but for the better part of her life, Karleen believed that the life of a commoner sounded too good to be true too: the autonomy —no matter how limited—, to be able to claim something as your own, to have a name that was not just a string of numbers and letters. Foreign concepts, outlandish ideas, dreams worth fighting tooth and nail for. While she understood that some people considered these to be the bare minimum for a decent life, anything more than these was a luxury Karleen couldn’t afford… At least, it used to be.

Karleen glared at the old map in her hand before looking at her surroundings. The corridor was made almost entirely out of stone and little else. A stark contrast to everything above ground.

For some reason, Karleen imagined that the basement of a castle would look a lot prettier. She got the idea stuck in her head because everything else the aristocrats had was overly fancy. Surely their dungeons were gold-plated, diamond-encrusted labyrinths that sparkled even in the absence of sunlight. But no. Not only were the halls dark and dingy like the underground cells she grew up in, but they were somehow colder in every way imaginable. The fact that Karleen had a hard time telling the difference between the storage, servant’s quarters, and the dungeon area spoke volumes as to how the crown thought of its servants. This thought would only be strengthened as Karleen explored the corridors. 

The halls were eerily quiet. Many of the servants were still working upstairs, either cleaning up after the guests or serving them. It made snooping around the basement much easier for the giant woman, but it also made her uncomfortable. The only thing that kept her from focusing too much on her discomfort was to concentrate on the search, which worked for a while. As she continued her exploration, however, she began to notice a faint sound bouncing off the surrounding stones. The soft cracking came at a steady rhythm, faltering every now and then. The sound became louder and louder as Karleen walked about, until it was loud enough for her to recognize what it was. 

Memories of her childhood rushed towards her, slamming her mind violently against her skull like waves ramming into the rocky shore. She would’ve drowned in it, but she learned how to float above it when it tried to drag her down. As familiar as the basement was to her childhood home, this place was not it. Karleen was no longer that child. She is stronger, tougher. It’ll all be fine. 

The giantess gathered herself and continued forward, but quickly backed away when she was about to turn a corner. There was a servant, a middle-aged woman, standing with her arms folded and a sour expression. She was glaring at the direction where the sounds were coming from. Karleen could tell it was a room, but from the angle she was peeking in from, she couldn’t tell what kind of room it was.

After one particularly loud crack, the sound stopped. The servant visibly relaxed. Whatever happened in that room reached its end, or would’ve if whoever was in there kept their mouth shut. Voices coming from the room were too quiet for Karleen to catch, but whatever was said resulted in a sudden whack, which startled both the servant and Karleen.

“That’s enough!” The servant shouted before storming into the room. 
The voice that spoke up tried to sound calm, but the strain in their voice made it obvious that they were anything but that. “You really need to train the servants better.”
“She served her punishment. Anything more than that and I’ll have to—…”
“What?” This time the voice that cut in made no attempt to hide its owner's contempt, “Do what? Report to the king? The queen? And what do you think they’re going to do to me?” The silence that followed was the answer. “Exactly. Not a goddamn thing. That’s what… Ooor what? Are you going to sleep with His Majesty to make him do what you want again? Like how you rode him all the way to head housekeeper?”
The scoff came from someone else, [color=DAF6C7]“You’re one to talk.”[/color] 
“… Say that again.”
[color=DAF6C7]“Gladly, I said you’re a miserable sack of sh*t who gets off on tormenting people who can’t fight back and sucking Edin’s—”[/color] 
“Riona!”
The other person was cackling when the woman named Riona restated her previous comment, “Ooooh, I’m going to savor the day you finally break.”
[color=DAF6C7]“You had 12 f**king years to try and I’m still here. What’s wrong? Losing your touch?”[/color]
“Hmm…” There was a pause. Karleen imagined the person taking their time looking Riona over. “I don’t know about that. You put up a brave front, but the cracks are showing… it won't be long…”
“Stop it, the both of you!” The servant shouted, “Riona, you’re dismissed. Go patch yourself up.” When Riona didn’t answer fast enough the woman sternly commanded, “[i]Now.[/i]” The servant’s attention turned to the other person in the room, “As for you, even the King has his limits. Do you have any idea how hard it is to hire—…” The heavy wooden door closed, muffling the argument that ensued inside.

The dark haired woman who limped her way out of the room had the same look about her as the children who just survived a deathmatch in the arena. That moment when the adrenaline’s effects ran its course and everything that it had been numbed came crashing down. The fear, the pain. Everything. The woman tried to take a step, winced, and stumbled forward. She caught herself from slamming into the wall with her hands, but she didn’t move from that position. Karleen could hear the woman’s breathing turn ragged. 

Back when Karleen was not “Karleen,” whenever unpleasant thoughts became powerful enough to paralyze her, she learned to free herself from their binding hex by filling her mind with her favorite things. Like the taste of sweets, the feeling of a full stomach, the warmth of the sun on her skin, pretty dresses, and fluffy stuffed animals. At the time, they were just figments of her imagination, stuff so distant that she never knew them in person, but close enough to know that they were real outside the steel bars. Karleen’s desire to experience what their masters prevented them from doing drove her to fight no matter how hopeless the situation became. She was going to live her life to the fullest and die happy; the chance she robbed others of would not be wasted.

But whatever strings that propped the maid up were none of those things. Not a single joyous, uplifting thought. What sort of cheerful thought made a person sweat bullets and claw at the stone walls like they were trying to dig their way out of their prison? The maid was trying to keep it quiet, but the echo chamber-like quality of the corridor made it impossible to hide the shortness of her breathing. The woman stood there, writhing with her inner demons, until the worst of the emotional waves subsided enough for her to catch her breath and stop trembling. She pressed her flushed forehead to the cool stone. 

The maid took a few steps closer to the wall until her shoes touched it. Either she was trying to fuse into the wall or attempting to siphon the durability of the stones. Even if she succeeded in doing either, it was entirely pointless, because all rocks, great mountains included, eventually succumb to weathering and erosion. With time, it starts to break down, and bits and pieces of it are carried far, far away. Just like this maid. Riona might’ve avoided completely breaking apart in the past 12 years, but those years were taking their toll. The cracks were there and maybe there were chipped off fragments that she wasn't even aware she’d lost. It was, as the other person in the room said, only a matter of time until the maid shattered into pieces. 

In an ideal world, the strong would’ve protected the weak before such things happened. If there were none, then the weak supported each other to become strong as one. But Sorian was far from the ideal world. Here, the strong butchered or leached off of the weak, and the weak trampled over each other if necessary. The weak had to become stronger if they wanted to survive. If that maid fell down, no one would be there to help her back up. That’s how it worked underground, and Karleen expected no less from Sorian on the surface. It was the one law that applied to both sides of the capital.

For the time being, all Karleen could do was pray —to the apathetic divine forces that be— that the maid found something else to live for. Something that could make life a little more bearable, if not make her smile from the bottom of her heart. A reason to hold on just a little longer… just a little bit longer.