Lost your sense of fear, feelings insincere [complete]
WHO: C.C. and Laguna
WHAT: Laguna sneaks takes the reverted C.C. on a friendly picnic.
WHERE: Somewhere out there
WHEN: Beneath the pale moonlight
At first, the girl had been confused. She had no recollection of coming anywhere on a boat, new master or no, and she certainly did not remember all of these people who were calling themselves friends. And for those first few days, there had been that deep-set, nagging feeling of sadness, of longing that she felt was familar... and yet not entirely hers. It was gone now, mostly, or at least had stopped swelling up in her chest at the mention of a name, or a certain expression on her Master's face, or a certain tone of his voice, and the comfortable weakness of it was enough for her to get used to and forget about. She had other things to focus on, besides.
She knew what a picnic was, of course. She had seen people of the village go out often, sitting on blankets with baskets of food and other edible things, chatting and laughing to each other about things she didn't hear or understand - not from behind the windows of her Master's house, anyway. She had never been to a picnic. But she had never had the time or reason to. It wasn't out of humility that she said she didn't have any friends; it was a well-known truth to her, and a constant fact that hadn't changed for short years she had been alive. Who was there to picnic with? Her previous owners barely spoke to her aside from their beatings and reprimands, let alone linger in the same room as she. And even if this Master was different from the rest, she still found it difficult to believe that he would debase himself by picnicking with a slave.
The girl sighed as she lingered near the yard, broom clutched to her chest as its bristles rested against the floor. She was a slave, that was all. Nothing people said or did could change that.
WHAT: Laguna sneaks takes the reverted C.C. on a friendly picnic.
WHERE: Somewhere out there
WHEN: Beneath the pale moonlight
At first, the girl had been confused. She had no recollection of coming anywhere on a boat, new master or no, and she certainly did not remember all of these people who were calling themselves friends. And for those first few days, there had been that deep-set, nagging feeling of sadness, of longing that she felt was familar... and yet not entirely hers. It was gone now, mostly, or at least had stopped swelling up in her chest at the mention of a name, or a certain expression on her Master's face, or a certain tone of his voice, and the comfortable weakness of it was enough for her to get used to and forget about. She had other things to focus on, besides.
She knew what a picnic was, of course. She had seen people of the village go out often, sitting on blankets with baskets of food and other edible things, chatting and laughing to each other about things she didn't hear or understand - not from behind the windows of her Master's house, anyway. She had never been to a picnic. But she had never had the time or reason to. It wasn't out of humility that she said she didn't have any friends; it was a well-known truth to her, and a constant fact that hadn't changed for short years she had been alive. Who was there to picnic with? Her previous owners barely spoke to her aside from their beatings and reprimands, let alone linger in the same room as she. And even if this Master was different from the rest, she still found it difficult to believe that he would debase himself by picnicking with a slave.
The girl sighed as she lingered near the yard, broom clutched to her chest as its bristles rested against the floor. She was a slave, that was all. Nothing people said or did could change that.