DAY 38-1: BET
Glasses clink against one another. The entire room indulges in their fair share of liquor. The bass of the blaring music thumps in coordination with Leda's heartbeat. Over the roar of noise, hazy, boisterous chatter can be perceived. She can't make out any words, but the Hearts gathered here sure know how to party.
Even now, the events of yesterday are a feverish dream. The one who'd perpetrated an unexpected coup d'état was none other than Valentina Hestia. This obnoxious princess had no intention of giving in to Estelle's wishes and lived her entire life admiring the throne. The chaos and disorder at the palace worked in her favour. She used it to her advantage to assassinate her. Mavix, who's never been in support of Estelle, had taken out the 5 Holy Sorcerers. Blaze kept General Uno occupied. Although Leda hadn't grasped the nitty gritty details, at that moment, upon learning of the fall of Queen Estelle, these loyal subjects accepted it quite easily.
"Oh, so she's dead?"
"It's only reasonable the weaker mage dies at the hands of the stronger one. She was bound to forfeit the throne eventually."
"All hail our new Queen!"
Death has always been brushed aside in this kingdom. The citizens have endured the deaths of numerous rulers. Each time, they shrugged it aside, and welcomed their new monarch with open arms. Their brainwashed allegiance, unbothered shrugs, and now this passionate, lighthearted party.
Estelle had spent years crafting the most heartless nation. Surely, it was backfiring on her now.
Leda finds herself outside, down the icy halls and towards the main entrance of the palace. The security is lax today, majority of the guards inside and bustling, as if these past of couple of days haven't occurred.
The wind is frozen on her skin, delicate and cold, but refreshing nonetheless. Although the sky is washed with grey, thin, multicoloured particles of magic sprinkle in from above. The pristine and glistening snow crunches beneath her boots. She'd spent the past week running for her life she'd forgotten just how beautiful this winter fortress is.
"You!"
An arm is flung around Leda's neck before she can turn around. Her heart picks up in trepidation only to be silenced by a merry laugh.
"Sorry, sorry, was my hold too tight?" Paola retreats, a hand going to her hips as she emits a boisterous belly-laugh. "I always forget to hold back. Forgive me."
Leda caresses her neck as she properly faces this general. She carries a large bottle of liquor and downs a gulp before flashing a pearly smile.
"Still, you're acquainted with Her Majesty Valentina and His Highness Avel?" She laughs. "I'm aware they placed you and your comrades under protection, so you've been treated and are free to wander Straeh at your leisure, but can I ask how you're still alive? I sliced your head off with as much gusto I could manage."
One thing Leda's picked up since yesterday's occurrence is that Paola is a lot friendlier than one may think. Beneath her callous and berserk military allegiance hides a gaunt woman with a slight alcohol addiction.
She leans forward, cocking a purple brow. "C'mon. Spill it. How?"
Leda's finger stills at the fabric concealing her throat, mouth curving downwards. She'd stared and stared at herself in the mirror as soon as she found one. The jagged line where Paola had severed her head is clear as day. Avel had given it a proper look over and was equally amazed at how effortlessly it reconnected. She can move and do the things she's always done. There isn't any pain. It's nothing short of unbelievable.
No matter what body part—of parts—is hacked off, there's the possibility she'll live, and it frightens her. To test it out, to go through it. How many times will she have to experience death before she can fully grasp her situation?
Orian has some explaining to do.
"Hey." Leda pauses her thoughts to meet Paola's eyes. "Where's—"
"It's off to the back." She removes the bottle from her lips in newfound solemnity. "Look, I didn't have anything against you guys personally, but my allegiance lies—had lied, with Queen Estelle. Enemies are enemies, and—"
"Paola." Her eyebrows rise, more so at the smile Leda plasters on. "I hope we can share a drink one day."
Paola politely hangs her head. The cruelty of her silence doesn't originate from her role as a general. Even now, she can't bring herself to mourn. No Heart seems capable of grieving for their companions, or even their loved ones.
They've forsaken their warmth and vulnerabilities—the sides of themselves that had made them weak in the past. Only their twisted heartlessness remains.
This unspoken truth is truly the most saddening tragedy about this kingdom.
Bidding farewell, Leda manoeuvres her way onto the large space of land in no time.
The cemetery off to the far end is void of much. Then again, the way they handled burials here—the idea that they had to destroy every last bit of their victim's bodies—is just as unforgiving. Valentina had given orders to bury every head Estelle had fancied here, so maybe she too wasn't fond of that horrendous wall. That, or she wanted to destroy every last bit of evidence of the Red Witch's existence.
Leda finds Ro hovering above the small makeshift tombstone. He hasn't left the spot or the spade-speckled fedora since they buried him, nor divulged what exactly happened between them when she left them behind. Instead of coming inside to partake in the festivities, he insisted he remain out here, grieving alone.
Leaning against one of the trees of the forest, keeping herself as hidden as she can, she aims her gaze straight ahead. Occasionally, she'll peek over her shoulder at the poker-faced Ro a fair distance away.
She hasn't been able to face him since she learned of the news. Even now, the weight is heavy on her chest. For Ro, who's gone through all that he has, with Nixon right there beside him—lying—it must be infinitely worse.
'Ifs' are unforgiving. Wish as you might otherwise, you can't look away from the truth. Ever since they entered Straeh, everything has been a complete and utter nightmare—one where it made sense if none of them made it out alive. They came close to perishing, yet here they are, breathing. It has to mean something.
Leda blinks back the tears lingering in her eyelashes. At the end of the day, what's done is done. They don't have much time left. They survived this hellish two-faced land and accomplished their goal. Even if all of them who set out, all they met, aren't coming back, they should focus on returning to Edaps.
Now that she thinks about it, considering all the chaos, she still hasn't received the chance to explain it all to Avel yet.
Right as she steps forward to do so, her foot slips on the slick ice beneath her. She emits a yelp. But the impact doesn't come. When she blinks awake to find that she has frozen mid-fall, countless thoughts swarm her mind, mainly the nostalgia.
The spell is broken when she hits somebody's chest.
The laugh that follows is as lighthearted as she remembers.
"Falling into my arms again? This must be fate."
Leda jerks up her head. "Avel..."
He takes her hand in his, grasping his other behind him. His magic broom lowers to his side, signalling he'd departed from a ride. "Leda, my sweet. I was coming to find you. How are you feeling today?"
He smiles as fondly as she remembers, mint eyes reflecting a childlike innocence. Nothing like the psycho once proclaiming he'd slaughter his entire nation just for her. Did the truth of his mother hit him a little too hard that all his madness was shot right out of him? Granted, when he'd heard the news, rather than be devastated, his focus remained wholly fixated on Leda...
It takes Leda a while to realize he's awaiting her response.
"Could be better." She pauses and swallows. "You?"
He responds to her question with silence. Revealing his other arm, he extends an array of brilliant purplish-pink flowers. "I was strolling through the palace garden and picked these out for you."
Leda's unable to process the gesture of goodwill. Dumbly, she takes the flowers into hand, uneasily peering at his face. He remains beaming, without a hint of malice to be detected.
She returns her attention to the flowers. They're beautiful, and waft a sickly sweet scent. The stems are wet and she can feel the dampness seeping through her woollen gloves. As she draws them closer to admire, the two dots in the centre adding to the exoticism of their plant, and the leaves, flutter back and forth.
Eyebrows furrowed, Leda watches the petals twist and wring open, revealing a deep redness—a mouth.
Wait...
A mouth?
And are those teeth?
She shoves it aside seconds before it sinks its sharp fangs into her face.
"What do you think?" Avel asks.
Leda keeps this writhing creature away the best she can. Her heart pulsates loud in her ears. It's preparing to bite again. "W-well... they look a little..."
"Carnivorous?" He extends his finger to prod the petals, only to retreat when all four chomp menacingly, attempting to devour him as well. His chuckle sweetens. "They love to eat people," he explains, a sparkly glitter in his eye. "Don't you think that's just the cutest?"
...Okay, this is definitely Avel. There's no doubt in Leda's mind as he continues to play with these bloodthirsty plants the way somebody would tease their cat. She can't quite lower her guard with these plants still in her hands, but there's a tiny sliver of relief she feels knowing he hasn't entirely changed. Still, he can go from innocent to insane way too quickly.
The subtle crunch of snow snatches Leda's attention in a heartbeat. She glances over her shoulder just as the bandaged blue-haired man saunters up to them from behind.