"Uuuuuuugh," Charlie groaned dramatically into her duvet again. "What hasn't he done?" This time she spoke as she rolled onto her back, staring vacantly at the ceiling. With a hand she pulled the mask off her face, letting it hang loosely around her neck. She was used to Riath sitting on her bedside--she'd long been told that the servant had been her wet nurse when she was no bigger than a loaf of bread--so the breach of status meant nothing to her. Riath was more of a mother to her than her real mother, wherever that bitch may have gone off to.
"So first, the training? Sucks. I'm awful at magic, and no matter how hard I try I just don't get it! No amount of lunaria that Auntie gives me helps, no amount of meditation works, and Father's vague descriptions don't help me tap into my inner magic, or whatever it's supposed to be." Charlie was talking with her hands, eyes still boring a hole into the ceiling above her bed. "But that's not so much to do with him as it does my own failing as a royal, hahaha!" Her laugh was high and almost desperate; like a dam cracking at the seams before a flood of water.
The demon princess dragged her hands down her face slowly, dragging the skin under her eyes and on her cheeks along as her fingertips ran past. "Father just... he doesn't understand me. He keeps talking about how proud he is of me, even when I was just out there sobbing to him with a bleeding heart over how I feel like I'm not good enough for him because of how distant he was with me as a child! How am I supposed to he loves me or that he's proud of me when he never fucking says anything to me?" She threw her hands up in desperation before allowing them to fall to her sides with a muffled whumpf. She found herself rubbing her eyes again, further aggrivating the red, puffy skin around them.
"Like, all he ever did when I was growing up was make me train until I couldn't stand, and then make me do it more. He was so hard on me that I just had to be perfect... and now he doesn't see how maybe, just maybe it's because of that that I feel like he regrets having me?" Charlie was struggling with the lump in her throat, and her voice was quivering as a result, straining against her urge to break down again. "I even told him that I needed emotional support from my family, and he just looks at me and has the balls to say "From your aunt?" Like SERIOUSLY? Gods, it's like he doesn't even listen when I talk!" She shot up into a sitting position, her fingers knit furiously into her blankets.
"And I think the worst part is that he keeps bringing up my mother, even though I've asked him to stop talking about someone who didn't even love me enough to stick around..." Charlie rubbed her eyes again, sniffling softly. "He expects me to care about her or something, but it's just infuriating! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of being expected to be perfect, I'm sick of him mentioning someone who's never had anything to do with my life, and I'm just..." she trailed off and sighed. "I'm just so tired, Riath..."
----
"A mistake, you say?" Aolani mused to no one in particular. She waved Vioroll over before addressing him directly, "Come along, My Lord. We'll speak somewhere more secluded, I should think. Sometimes these walls have ears..." The veiled woman began to walk, pocketing the cloth she'd been using to polish the stature of their god. It was a short walk to a small offside room, clearly meant to be a place for the acolytes of the shrine to take a quick rest. The woman locked the door on the far side, before returning to the door she'd come through and locking it once Vioroll had entered.
"Please take a seat, My Lord. Tell me your problems while I make up some tea." Aiolani gestured to a comfortable looking chair before busying herself with a kettle over the fire.
"So first, the training? Sucks. I'm awful at magic, and no matter how hard I try I just don't get it! No amount of lunaria that Auntie gives me helps, no amount of meditation works, and Father's vague descriptions don't help me tap into my inner magic, or whatever it's supposed to be." Charlie was talking with her hands, eyes still boring a hole into the ceiling above her bed. "But that's not so much to do with him as it does my own failing as a royal, hahaha!" Her laugh was high and almost desperate; like a dam cracking at the seams before a flood of water.
The demon princess dragged her hands down her face slowly, dragging the skin under her eyes and on her cheeks along as her fingertips ran past. "Father just... he doesn't understand me. He keeps talking about how proud he is of me, even when I was just out there sobbing to him with a bleeding heart over how I feel like I'm not good enough for him because of how distant he was with me as a child! How am I supposed to he loves me or that he's proud of me when he never fucking says anything to me?" She threw her hands up in desperation before allowing them to fall to her sides with a muffled whumpf. She found herself rubbing her eyes again, further aggrivating the red, puffy skin around them.
"Like, all he ever did when I was growing up was make me train until I couldn't stand, and then make me do it more. He was so hard on me that I just had to be perfect... and now he doesn't see how maybe, just maybe it's because of that that I feel like he regrets having me?" Charlie was struggling with the lump in her throat, and her voice was quivering as a result, straining against her urge to break down again. "I even told him that I needed emotional support from my family, and he just looks at me and has the balls to say "From your aunt?" Like SERIOUSLY? Gods, it's like he doesn't even listen when I talk!" She shot up into a sitting position, her fingers knit furiously into her blankets.
"And I think the worst part is that he keeps bringing up my mother, even though I've asked him to stop talking about someone who didn't even love me enough to stick around..." Charlie rubbed her eyes again, sniffling softly. "He expects me to care about her or something, but it's just infuriating! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of being expected to be perfect, I'm sick of him mentioning someone who's never had anything to do with my life, and I'm just..." she trailed off and sighed. "I'm just so tired, Riath..."
----
"A mistake, you say?" Aolani mused to no one in particular. She waved Vioroll over before addressing him directly, "Come along, My Lord. We'll speak somewhere more secluded, I should think. Sometimes these walls have ears..." The veiled woman began to walk, pocketing the cloth she'd been using to polish the stature of their god. It was a short walk to a small offside room, clearly meant to be a place for the acolytes of the shrine to take a quick rest. The woman locked the door on the far side, before returning to the door she'd come through and locking it once Vioroll had entered.
"Please take a seat, My Lord. Tell me your problems while I make up some tea." Aiolani gestured to a comfortable looking chair before busying herself with a kettle over the fire.
