[ The soulmark. What an ancient tradition absolutely unlauded these days.
Marie Antoinette's signature has been on his dominant arm since he was seven, pulsing with glow every time he came near her. Couples in her court never glowed. People were married for power, not out of a sense of destiny. Humans were too valuable to let chase their dreams when forming alliances was the top priority. How must she feel, knowing her name is upon him and having to cover it with makeup so her husband doesn't feel inferior?
Then there were the deaths and then some. He's sure his fever came and took him before her because he couldn't live in a world without her. He claimed only to love his music, but every song he'd ever written was for her. It was his way of channeling his love into song that she might one day hear. The only way she could hear their bond... the only way they could speak.
Of course, he denied it, but maybe Marie knew. Maybe she didn't. It was difficult to love someone your entire life and perish, but more difficult was coming back as a servant... along with her.
And their master had trained them together, so his arm was always lighting up-- he could never see hers despite her outfit, where had she covered it?
In a warm break in Chaldea, one thing had survived. An old piano meant for teaching students in recreational hours. He tuned it to a perfect degree, spent hours fixing it, and at once, laid down his fingers to finish the last song he was to play before he fell ill.
Footsteps in the hallway interrupted him, however. ]
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Marie Antoinette's signature has been on his dominant arm since he was seven, pulsing with glow every time he came near her. Couples in her court never glowed. People were married for power, not out of a sense of destiny. Humans were too valuable to let chase their dreams when forming alliances was the top priority. How must she feel, knowing her name is upon him and having to cover it with makeup so her husband doesn't feel inferior?
Then there were the deaths and then some. He's sure his fever came and took him before her because he couldn't live in a world without her. He claimed only to love his music, but every song he'd ever written was for her. It was his way of channeling his love into song that she might one day hear. The only way she could hear their bond... the only way they could speak.
Of course, he denied it, but maybe Marie knew. Maybe she didn't. It was difficult to love someone your entire life and perish, but more difficult was coming back as a servant... along with her.
And their master had trained them together, so his arm was always lighting up-- he could never see hers despite her outfit, where had she covered it?
In a warm break in Chaldea, one thing had survived. An old piano meant for teaching students in recreational hours. He tuned it to a perfect degree, spent hours fixing it, and at once, laid down his fingers to finish the last song he was to play before he fell ill.
Footsteps in the hallway interrupted him, however. ]