A celebration of budding emotion, the emergence of a torn past

When I spoke of my sky broadening, it wasn’t a simple metaphor.

The world that I perceived in my head had always been small.

As a child, I sat alone within a quiet room. I had not even been allowed to see my parents.

The ceiling had been the whole of my sky.

When the emperor had struck my family name with dishonor, suddenly my world began to expand.

My father of nobility, who had married an heiress from Spain despite his own father’s wishes, was adamant on keeping true to his choices. Desperately they had tried to conceal her identity, but the seal of a carefully-lined secret had broken after only a few years. In that time they had raised me, and in that time I had become something they could not lose.

We had been forced to flee, and leave everything behind. Amidst the wildflowers is where we had found the peace of safety.

It was then that I sat underneath a blanket of quieted stars.

It was then that I had gazed upon my first love.

That was when I had fallen in love with new experiences.

The carnival of Aethine was such a thing when it came to broadening my sky.

In celebration, Theresia had brought me to such a place. She had spoken greatly of its importance. She had spoken of how it had been her start as a playwright.

Deep within the nooks of the bronze city, there had been enough space for such a sprawling event. Buildings of brick had been erected, thousands of large tents scattered about endlessly. Lines of rails stretched across the sky, carrying screaming children in small metal carts while racing through the air.

Endlessly clock towers chimed within the sky, signalling the arrival of a new event. Thousands of strands of confettied paper rained down from the sky, bathing the orange-haze in bright, beautiful colour. Large balloons flew throughout the air, throwing the paper out of the baskets in large handfuls.

It was a strange feeling, for within the city of the undine, it seemed to be the once place where everything felt slow. For once, the undine did not bow to the sun, and chose to root their feet in place with a smile.

Yet, as I glanced towards Theresia, I saw that she held an expression of indifference on her face. It was as if it was a sight she had seen many times over.

She looked over to meet my gaze, and smiled in response.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” She asked of me. “I can see the euphoria flush upon your face.”

I knew then in that moment that Theresia and I were no longer just playwright and assistant, at least not in a way that was so simple as to speak it aloud.

“Yesterday... were you mad at me?” I asked of her suddenly.

“Why would you think that?” She wondered.

“When you looked at me, your expression suddenly grew red.” I spoke sheepishly. “Then you stormed off, without looking back once.”

Her face grew hot in that moment, and her tongue caught upon itself as she tried to spout out a flustered explanation.

“It- it wasn’t like that-”

Her words were cut short, and we were met with a sight intensely familiar.

Although to her, it seemed wholly more recognisable in feeling.

As we had been walking, we had come upon a small outdoor theatre, one incredibly reminiscent of Theresia’s. Dozens of children sat in front of the stage, watching as the actors danced around gracefully in prim, trimmed costumes.

One stood at the forefront, a knight of bright-silver armour. She had long-locks of golden hair that had been tied and braided in flowing ribbons behind her head. She wielded a large sword inbetween her massive gauntlets, and an endlessly-pervasive grin sat upon her face.

Opposing was a beast mightier than all, forged from cloth and fabric sewn shoddily. The obsolete skill within the craft wasn’t the focus of my attention however. Within the stitchwork, it was as if the whole of someone’s effort sat unnoticed. It was as if someone had paid close attention towards it, only to come up short.

It was as if someone had tried hard simply for the sake of the audience.

“Come forth, mighty dragon!” The actress grinned. “With my blade, you are not such a simple challenge!”

The patchwork dragon roared to life, and the squeals of the children were apparent amidst the bustle of the carnival. It was something that brought a quiet smile to my face.

As Theresia and I watched the actress fight off the dragon, a man approached behind us gently. I turned towards him, and too did Theresia in unison.

He was a man of gentle form, as if he had been sketched before me by softened charcoal. His skin was a dull-sepia colour, and his thick-groomed beard and hair were as white as snowfall. He wore a softened-maroon button-up shirt, with a tan-plaid vest draped over it. His large fingers were bandaged all over, pin-pricks visible upon his skin.

Upon seeing him, Theresia seemed to tense up completely. Her once open heart shut closed like a gate in an instant, and she became guarded in his presence. Her gaze darkened, and her lips parted in bitter fashion.

“You’re still working here?” Theresia asked of him, her tone laced with frost.

Her expression was unnerving in the way it furrowed, as if she could not bear even the sight of the man.

“Working here?” He spoke softly. “No, Theresia. I own this place.”

Her expression twisted into abject horror, and she grabbed my hand suddenly.

“Come on, we’re leaving this place.”

“So you didn’t come here to see me, I take it?” The man grinned.

“Hell no.” Theresia spat in response.

“I’ll remind you simply, but I will not welcome you back under my wing until your name has flourished well, Theresia Hayes.” He spoke simply. “I hope truly that you’re working to your utmost.”

“That’s none of your business.” Theresia replied bitterly. “I want nothing else to do with you, Franz.”

We walked for a short time through the loud atmosphere of the carnival, until we found ourselves within a quiet backstreets of the many-layered buildings. She held my hand still and gentle, and I could feel the tremors that erupted simply from her fingertips.

“Who was that man?” I asked of her. “Why does he have you so shaken?”

Theresia let out a large sigh.

“His name is Franz Forger. He’s a playwright for the clockwork carnival we stand within now.” She spoke softly. “He was the one who took me and my infant sister in... he was the one who gave us a home, and a purpose.”

“Your sister?”

“I saw you with her, at the play...” Theresia spoke bitterly. “The one who calls herself ‘December’.”

“Do you know of her?” I asked Theresia.

“I know not her foolish persona. It only serves to spite me and Franz, I suppose.” Theresia continued with a hardened sigh. “I only know of Cassea.”

The bustle of the carnival atmosphere around us had all but faded, and all that was left was our conversation within the moment.

“That man... it was as if he was once my father.” Theresia spoke softly, her gaze falling towards a pitch-black ground of melting sunbeams. “And Cassea Forger... she was once my sister.”

I stopped my footsteps within the soil below me, a footpath marked at end by a surprised heart.

“Your sister?” I spoke with widened eyes. “She never mentioned such a thing...”

“Our family is a triangle of bitterness. That’s simply what happens when you fit three opposing puzzle pieces together... no true picture is ever formed.” Theresia said with a saddened tone of voice. “None of us would speak of such a thing unless we had to.”

“Then why speak to me now?”

“I said it once before, didn’t I?” Theresia smiled softly in return. “You are the one I trust most with these important things.”

We continued walking once again, Theresia still holding my hand as if I would fly away if she didn’t.

“Did you like my play?” Theresia asked of me.

“It would be a shortcoming of feelings to say I loved it.” I smiled in return. “In fact, I enjoyed it with the whole depth of my heart.”

She looked back towards me with a surprised expression.

“You had no idea that anyone would be coming, did you...?” I asked of her. “So then, all of those stars in the sky... did you place them there for my sake?”

Her face reddened in an instant, and her lips parted softly as if to speak in turn.

“It was just a return of favour...” Theresia replied sheepishly, her expression flush like a garden of amaryllis. “You spoke of your admiration of them... I thought you might enjoy such a thing...”

I pulled her in close suddenly, her fingers grasping amidst mine.

Amidst the warm wind, our cloaks seemed to flutter gently as if entwined in twin dance.

“My dearest Theresia...” I spoke softly. “There is not a single thing I could have enjoyed more. You have given me so much.”

She simply placed her head against my chest in response, falling deeper into the warmth of our gentle embrace.

“I would do it all again to see you smile, Agreste.”