6 A Bastard

Cellentine used to think that she was done stupid emotions. Like anger. Hatred. Sadness. Dejection.

"An ant grows wings only dive into the flames

"In order for survival one had had to sacrifice their dreams. Because when times become so, being alive acts as both a blessing and a curse." Those were words her mother whispered into her ears every night before going to sleep, etched into her mind like the moral of some long lost story. Those words were what helped bear the burning gazes that impaled her back every time she in the open. The gazes that went deep beneath their kind sympathetic faces wishing her to disappear.

But the Harbour town wasn't a nightmare. The people weren't heartless.

So, was there any need to bear such a gloomy outlook. Was unconditional kindness that fictional?

Everything was so bland…yet it didn't make any sense. Her head was becoming lighter, slowly.

Her body felt limp and her senses managed to pinpoint only the basics of her surroundings. Her back was rested against something cold and metallic. She pressed her ear against that wall.

It was a deep soft wail and the gentle pressure of sea crests banging and nudging.

She sighed alongside the ocean waves. Her mind was getting clearer but the smokes dispersing only served to invite the clouds. She was not afraid. She was not sad. She definitely did not have the energy for anger or hatred. All she could think was that-

"This feels oddly familiar."

Excluding the crowd of unknown faces hidden in the darkness of the room and the suffocating stench of sweat, Cellentine was familiar to the situation, almost comfortable maybe.

She was ten years old when she first tasted the sunlight, twelve when she first was allowed to walk out I the open. Crouching alone in the darkness, closing your eyes as the silence seeps through your ears, waiting for the dreams to come again- Cellentine was at more comfort doing these than walking out in the open and mingling with people. From childhood, the dark corners of their quaint little apartment were her only sanctuary. The only place where people wouldn't glare at her secretly or whisper curses behind her back.

For a long time, Cellentine had wanted to believe that she was wrong, that it was all in her head, that hose whispers and unfriendly stares accounted to nothing. She wanted to believe that despite everything, they did not despise her, that they truly ha care for her. After all, weren't these very people so sweet to her mother? They adored her, they helped her, they went way out of their ways to protect her and make her smile. And didn't her mother too lose herself amidst these people, laughing and beaming ever so beautifully that she had to catch her breath whenever she peeked sneakily from the shadows. She'd feel so happy to see her mother having so much fun. Her mother never laughed like that in front of her, she even barely smiled and whenever she did it was sad, weak stretch of thin rosy lips. The same lean face shrivelled in sorrow.

But that was alright. Alright as long as she would tuck her in every night, alright as long as she would always come back to her, alright as long as she would still hug her until she fell into the arms of sleep. But she couldn't even seek comfort in this fake affection.

Cellen bit the corner of her lower lip as she struggled with the tears that came along the final nail. The play pretend game was over. The people she had wanted to be happy with, the people she had loved, even the mother who brought her to this world have all spoken. They all threw her away bare except the rags and the truth.

The soup…Callida must've put something in it.Sleeping drug? Anesthesia? Cellen didn't care anymore. Why did everyone at the harbour town bear this much hatred towards her? She simply did not want to know anymore. Every bit of her past, every strand memory was nothing more than a burden weighing down her heart.

There were pressing concerns ahead, like what would become of her. Before she was a figurative prisoner, isolated and shunned. Now she was an actual one, sold off for enslavement.

What would happen of her? Be trained as a mercenary, or a servant to some rotten noble. or god forbid, not the red light district. Cellentine felt a shudder run through her skin.

Selling off the daughter to save the mother? And they said it was salvation? They called it benevolence?

"Just die." The words barely hissed out of her teeth as she clenched her fists tight. A red smog slowly enveloped her usual conscience as Cellentine felt her control slip away to the back of her mind. Just a moment before she could barely keep her tears from falling. But that feeling of melancholy was now washed away by the smog. Behind the red misty barrier, she still felt miserable. But outside, she couldn't stop her lips arching sleekly into a smile.

Who cares if she was sold off, who cares if she is now helpless. And who dares to think she is the one in a sorry position. Those vermin were the one who were really in danger. Just wait until she gets out of here. She would make each and every one of them pay dearly.

she wasn't broken anymore not meek anymore not Cellentine Picara anymore. The thoughts of vengeance welling her brain were not her own. Azaelia was slowly invading and asserting control. Cellentine did not fight back, she never did. But perhaps for the first time, she enjyed letting herself drown. With Azaelia in control she felt invicible,unbreakable and at the same time so very vulnerable. And she was thoroughly enjoying it.

"This must be how drugs taste like." But fortunately, it did not last.

"You're not crying?"

The soft and straight words shook her tendons. Cellen felt a gush of wind tramp around in her head. A searing pain between her temples and when the blurriness cleared, she was stranded staring into the eyes of the girl who had called out to her, her sudden confidence now vanquished, the fear stumbling inside.

Remarkably, she held her ground.

Cellentine was not Azaelia, knight of the bloody dawn. She had not faced berayals countless times. She was not nearly as strong and fearless.

But she had been betrayed once and that was enough.

Her pupils still wavered as she asked the girl in her calmest voice -"Where are we?"

The girl did not answer immediately. Her sapphire eyes keenly sized up the figure covered in rag blankets crouched against the ship wall.

"We're probably somewhere around the Endoran coastline…. the ship'll take a couple more detours slithering along the twin canals and the Ambrosia river. As you can see the room's nowhere near stuffed so they're probably gonna be picking up more deadweight along the way."

She broke into a grin before finishing her reply

"And in case you don't know yet we're heading down to Vaselia."

"Vaselia!" Cellen's eyes shot wide.

"Oh, so you don't know yet, huh? Well, congratulations, you're a Bastard.

That word… … Cellentine felt a vein pop in her head as soon as she heard it. The people at the harbour town may have been hostile towards her, but 'bastard' wasn't a word she heard there. It was a word that held so much offense that even the foulest cusser wouldn't dare speak it aloud. There was no shame in being a bastard at harbour town. A great deal of resentment and pain,perhaps, but no shame. That's why Cellentine could never forgive a person who can utter that word with such ease .

"Of course I'm a bastard. I've never known a father since I've been born." She snapped.

The girl however took no notice as she continued in a tired voice.

"You're a bastard with a big B. Now don't tell me you've never heard about that?"

Watching Cellen scrunch her eyebrows, she slapped her own face.

"Ugh why did I even talk to you.... well anyways you'll be knowing it all pretty soon so there's no need to be explaining."

Her eyes narrowed towards the ragdoll.

"Don't tell me you were born in harbourtown."

Cellentine pursed her lips tightly and looked away refusing to talk. It was obvious she did not want to go on with the conversation any longer.

Seeing the ragdoll's reaction, the girl ."Well, that would explain it but also make it a bit complicated but who cares... Hey, why don't you just forget about me and take another nap."

Cellentine was about to retort something back at her But before anything like that happened, she felt a soft sheen of mist collide with her face. Her vision went hazy again and all she could mutter before going out cold was -"Damn, not again.."

Then saphire eyed girl caught the collapsing Cellentine before she slammed into the her.

She gently lay her face leaning on the wall again. She kept studying it itnently like there was some secret inscription etched there.

"Ever since you came here THAT guy has checked in here twice. You'd better be asleep before he co es again...He's not someone whose attention you'd want to catch." She muttered.

"Glazing blond hair and iconic red eyes....I wonder how you were able to stay unnoticed this long with just bangs and a flimsy headscarf.....Although it would be for the better if the miracle continued."

She shifted her gaze to the celing.

"What will the Marquis faction do once your existence is out,,,I guess I might be able to get another shot at running away after all."

She shut down her eyes. "It's a pity I can't apply my Myst on myself. The air here stinks."