Scorched

20

The burial is so monotonous and full of sadness, it made the hole in her chest expand to so much girth Cleo is surprised that she still managed to stand on her two feet without feeling any sort of fatigue.

Everyone is to wear deep scarlet to any burial of a courtesan — it's to give off love and peace for the deceased. Well, not exactly. That's what Cleo told them to do, she actually just wanted to wear this specific cherry-red dress to each and everyone's burial she were to attend, as the colour made her look prepossessing.

She just wanted to look beautiful for no reason at all.

The most appropriate colour for this kind of situation; in her opinion would be white. But her only white dress in her dresser would get stained by the dirt of the garden floor. What better way to look unattractive to Kaleb? At least the red wouldn't get as stained as the white would.

So red it is.

Genevieves' body stood before them in the vast garden of the Court filled with so many trees and headstones — she felt an unearthly sense of déjà vu— as the trees and stones made her think of Ezra, and how many rocks has dotted the beach.

She is also shocked by the rather copious amount of graves set here. If she had parents she would be one of those people who visits the graves everyday to lay down flowers.

Only if. But she? She has never felt such love from what she has seen by Sir Evan's or the other maids around here. Mother's love is what it's called.

Only love she ever received was: opium's love.

Now with the perfect circle from each person in the Court summoned to form around Genevieve's smooth grey sarcophagus, Cleo skims her gaze over everyone before her and behind her from where she stands in the center of it all.

All stood with a red burning candle in their hands heads bowed awaiting for her to speak.

Before she does, she first brushes her hands over her  simple mermaid style dress of tight cotton that hugged her waist right until her knees before flaring out like a sunflower at her calves and ankles.

It had thin straps on her shoulders and covered her chest appropriately — Landon would be shocked that her chest was actually covered this time. She finally dresses up normally for an event, but... She wore no shoes. As usual. So Landon did perhaps just go all weary again at that. She saw the red sandals on her bed the ruby ones but she threw them in the hearth before coming out here.

She curls her toes in the grass and groans at how soft the blades caressed her feet. So so so good. She could do this all day.

They stood in the center of the garden, the perimeter surrounding them with trees and graves. Flowers and plants frequently placed all over to bring some life to the dead cemetery. If she were alone she would of cracked up and laughed— bring life to the dead?

She is being quite difficult she must say. And so unnecessarily rude. This was a burial, she is supposed to give acts of care and empathy, share the same grief to help and support one another through this difficult time, she should at least offer respect to Genevieve, and especially her sister.

Yet here she stands, without feeling a sliver of mourning. She is too cold and heartless for this kind of stuff.

Where was Landon? Oh- he was watching her already, she flashes him a grin over her shoulder but he didn't return it. He gave her a scowl instead. His face is etched in lines of stress and fury— most likely because of her. What was she thinking about most likely? It's definitely her.