Music Recomndation: Watching Ulla- Alexandre Desplat
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The carriage rode through the forest, moving past the thick trees in darkness except for the lantern that hung at the side, which was now swayed by the monts of the vehicle.
Eve stared at her reflection in the window, where her blue eyes stared. Vincent had pulled away from her to sit on his side of the seat, crossing his legs while he stared at her.
“Did your mother ever tell you anything more about your father? Where he ca from or what was his na?” Vincent questioned her, supporting his chin with the edge of his palm.
Eve looked away from her reflection and shook her head, “No. Not that I could rember anything,” she answered. “Is it bad?”
“The colour of anyone’s iris changing is rarely ever good news. In vampires and werewolves, it often indicates a corrupted soul or heart,” Vincent responded before dropping his hand and straightening his body. He continued, “A human never shows such traits unless they are bitten by the supernatural. You are the child of a rman and a human, so the rule that applies to you is of the supernatural beings of our society.”
Eve frowned. She asked, “You think I have a corrupted heart?”
“I cannot tell it in surety, but it is a possibility. Unless your father was an important rman with powers and you are the lost princess. That would be a good theory in the clouds,” Vincent stated in a nonchalant tone which held a subtle sarcasm.
Was it possible though? Or was it that her heart or her soul was corrupted?
She knew what it ant when it ca to vampires and werewolves. Because it was those corrupted beings, who turned into rogues and tried to cause chaos and death in the towns.
“But my eyes have never changed colours until now. Wouldn’t that an the corruption took place recently?” Eve asked Vincent, who stared at her with a serious expression on his face.
“It can be one out of two things here. One, sothing happened recently. Or two, your corruption was dormant until now and is only showing now,” stated Vincent, noticing the worry marring the rmaid’s face. “Or it can be a third option.”
Eve’s eyes raised to et his coppery-red eyes, “That it has nothing to do with possibility one and two.”
Vincent gave her a nod, “Yes.” From what he knew, Eve had no sudden changes in her life. He said, “Maybe you should jog your mory of the past and see if you find sothing in there.”
Her only mories were the ti she had fondly spent with her mother, which was later followed by her mother’s grueso death. She frowned before asking him,
“You an I go back to Crowburry?” The last ti she had visited the town, she had ended up in the dungeon.
A small smile crept upon Vincent’s lips, and he leaned forward. He tapped on the glass in front of them, behind where the coachman Briggs sat.
Vincent ordered his coachman, “Drive to Crowburry.”
“Yes, Master Vincent!” The coachman quickly obliged, and they heard the horses neigh.
Vincent said to Eve, “Better for you to have a chaperon than get lost by yourself, isn’t it?”
Eve hadn’t expected him to deviate from the path, and she could only nod.
When the carriage arrived at the almost deserted town of Crowbury, Vincent’s coachman pulled the reins of the horses, and the carriage ca to a halt. The coachman got down from his seat and opened the carriage door for them to get down.
When Eve stepped foot on the ground and looked around, she noticed nothing had changed since her last visit to this town. As she and Vincent started to walk, she asked,
“What is going to happen to this town once everyone leaves here?”
Vincent, who walked next to her, his eyes moved across the place. He said, “The town will be rebuilt and be occupied by the wealthy.”
This was what usually happened. Sotis things happened out of pure coincidence. Sotis, a few authorities let things happen, like the poor moving out of their house one by one for safety reasons, which eventually led to an empty village or town.
“One day the poor will have nowhere to go,” Eve murmured as they walked on the deserted street with no light except the moonlight that fell on the ground.
“Isn’t it wonderful that you have a generous employer who pays you well? You don’t have to worry about such things,” said Vincent with a bright smile. “If it makes you feel any better, your good friend, the Duke, is working on bringing an order to be passed around here to catch the rogues. After all, he is in charge of making sure that the rogue werewolves don’t hunt the innocent people.”
Eve was glad to hear that Noah was doing sothing for the welfare of the people, just like he had told her once when they were talking.
Returning to the town felt nostalgic; Eve missed her mother more than before.
Though she didn’t say anything, Vincent heard the change in the rmaid’s heartbeat and his eyes moved to the corner to watch her.
“This is the house where my mother and I lived,” Eve said when they reached in front of the house. She stepped inside the broken house.
Noticing the broken furniture and the ss inside the house, Vincent whistled. He remarked, “Looks like soone ca in here looking for you.”
“The guard said that sotis the nomads steal things from the houses,” said Eve, her voice turning distant. She walked around the house before sitting on the bed and staring at it. “I don’t think there’s anything more than what I already know of.”
“Think harder.”
Vincent doubted there was anything of value left, considering the broken roof, the rain over the years must have turned mouldy. He heard Eve say,
“When my mother would return ho, she would bring food for to eat. Food that ca from the wealthy that we couldn’t afford. She would then help bathe, make up ti for the hours we were apart. Listen to what I did and tell about how good of a man my father was.”
Vincent watched Eve’s eyes have a dazed look as if she was lost in her own thoughts. He questioned, “What were her words about your father?”
Eve fell silent, feeling the mories project from deep within her mind, not the house. She said,
“That he loved and her very much, and he wished for nothing but our happiness… That it was her responsibility to keep safe no matter what. That she promised my father to be true to their love and would never break it,” Eve looked away from the broken bed, and her eyes t Vincent’s. Her eyes glistened. She said, “I don’t think there’s an answer here.”
Feeling overwheld, Eve stepped outside the house, leaving Vincent inside the house.
And maybe if Vincent had stepped forward and opened the cupboards, he would have noticed there was sothing familiar that he was once searching for. A coat with patchwork that belonged to a little girl of seven or eight.
He stepped outside the house and noticed Eve standing with her arms crossed against her chest.
While Vincent and Eve were in Crowburry, back in the Marshall’s mansion, one of the servants caught sight of Mr. Hart lying in the garden.
“Mr. Hart, are you alright?!” The servant quickly ran to him, hearing the man groan. Almost an hour had passed since he fell unconscious, and his head felt heavy.
“Um, I am fine,” Mr. Hart replied in a slur while rubbing his forehead. He looked around the place as if searching for sothing or soone before he was helped by the servant to stand up on his feet. “My head feels like it is going to burst any second. Take to my carriage.”
“Yes, Sire,” the servant obliged, putting the wealthy man’s thick arm around his shoulder, he led him away from the garden.
On the way towards his carriage, Mr. Hart groaned while trying to rember the last thing before falling to the ground. And while the servant supported the man, he t the Duke of Woodlock, his father and a lady.
Upon seeing the intoxicated councilman, Noah’s father asked, “You do not look that good, Mr. Hart. Do you need so help?”
Mr. Hart waved his hand and smiled, “I must have drank another glass of alcohol.”
“Seems like it,” Noah murmured under his breath. It seed that Mr. Hart had fallen hard on his face, as there was a bruise on his cheek. No, that wasn’t from hitting the ground, he said in his mind. It looked like soone had punched the councilman.
“Have you seen this woman with yellow eyes?” Mr. Hart asked with a slur, and his head moved like an owl. “Bright yellow eyes. We had things to discuss” He then stared at Lady Anaya, wondering if she was the woman he had spoken to earlier.
“He must be looking for a she-wolf,” Lady Anaya whispered under her breath.
Mr. Hart continued, “She had srising eyes, and her voice so sweet,” and the other three people stared at the drunk man.
A subtle frown appeared on Noah’s face before he ordered the servant, “Mr. Hart is tired. Take him to his carriage.”
The servant nodded and with difficulty, led the intoxicated man away from there. Noah’s father asked, “Which woman was he talking about?”
Lady Anaya sighed and replied, “Probably an imaginary woman. There was no woman with yellow eyes.”
Noah didn’t respond and continued staring at Mr. Hart’s back.
Back in the town of Crowburry, Eve heard Vincent’s footsteps approaching her from behind, and he ca to stand in front of her. For a few seconds, they stood there in silence. After a while, she said,
“I don’t think there was a single day where my mother and I sat down to have breakfast together. I rember her kissing before she would leave for her work,” Eve raised her hand to place it on her forehead. “Sotis, when I would wake up, she would tell to go back to sleep, that she would co back to . No matter what people speak about her… she was a good woman.”
Eve’s sorrowful eyes t Vincent’s that stared back at her.
“If that is what you believe, why do you look sad then, little girl? What others think doesn’t define a person,” stated Vincent, and Eve smiled.
“Maybe that is how it works in your world. The place I belong to is defined by our actions, words and people,” which was how the society functioned. “Just because a cat closes its eyes and drinks the milk, so that it can believe that no one is seeing it, doesn’t an no one is watching it.”
Vincent chuckled at her words. He said, “Why care about what people think, when they don’t care about you at all?” He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t care what your mother did when she was alive because it doesn’t concern . If she killed for a living or slept with n to get money. You shouldn’t worry about little things and give yourself grey hair.”
How ironic, Eve thought to herself. The man had a head full of silver hair, was that why he didn’t bother about it?
She said, “We are friends and I want my friend to know about it.”
Mirth filled Vincent’s eyes while he stared at her, “I care to know only about my friend and not the people associated with my friend.”
“Even if it ans sothing to ?” She stared into his copper-red eyes.
A crooked smile appeared on his lips, and he said, “You have left your world and stepped into mine.”
Even without Vincent uttering the words, she could feel his detached emotions. If there was one thing she had co to know about Vincent Moriarty, it was that he wasn’t soone to judge. Because he didn’t care.
“I will find out about the colour in my eyes another day. I don’t think I am being corrupted,” she was confident about it, and one corner of Vincent’s lips pulled up.
“Not yet,” Vincent reminded her, “I doubt any rmaid or rman has had the luck to live this long on the land as you have. Never too bad to be cautious.”
Vincent started to walk away, making his way to where the carriage was parked while Eve stood in the sa place. She turned behind and looked at the house she and her mother lived in, murmuring,
“Did you forget to tell sothing I should know, mother?”
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