Vanheight Manor, Port City of Lashterel
A loud thud filled the air in a dark room of a seemingly abandoned mansion high up on the hillside near a port city. The culprit – a small girl who looked to be no older than fourteen. She had fallen out of bed. Dragging her blanket with her as she did. Naturally, she was awake… In a manner of speaking. Her grey eyes were open. Yet they did not focus on anything. Her pale skin is nearly as white as the silken nightgown she wore. Frankly speaking, she could easily be mistaken for a corpse. Simply laying there.
Moments passed and finally, she stirred. Yet the girl did not attempt to rise. Instead, she slowly brought an impossibly thin hand up to her face. Which slid down to her neck. It was after that – she began to push herself up. The moonlight streaming into the room giving just enough light to reveal that the girl was – as indicated by her hand – unusually thin. If not borderline emaciated.
Once the girl managed to achieve a rough approximation of a seated position, the blanket she was tangled in seemingly as if to slide off her like water down a stream, she paused. As if something occurred to her. She looked down at her hands. Slowly clenching and unclenching them. Her dull grey eyes show a small flicker of life. A spark just waiting to become a raging inferno. A moment passed and she looked down. As if to take stock of herself. Then slowly took hold of a lock of her long brown hair. Examining the soft, silk like, strands of her hair.
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“I’m… alive? Where…?” The voice that came from her lips is weak and raspy, “No…. that’s not… right.” That flicker of life in her eyes passed once more. But it did not pass. Her eyes began to sharpen. Lips parting and a sharp intake of breath, “Memories, yes, that’s-” The door suddenly opened. Cutting off the girl. And she looked up in time to see a woman with black hair and wearing a long black dress with a white apron come rushing in.
“Lady Veronica!” The woman is a maid. Hired to serve as the girl’s attendant at night, “What’s wrong? Are you harmed?” She quickly knelt next to the girl. Eyes wide in alarm. Reaching out as if to grasp her mistress or to check for any obvious sign of physical injury. Yet she does not touch. Although she appears alarmed, she hesitates to touch her mistress. And for good reason. As the girl has a reputation of being quick to anger. The intensity of which often driving her to fire her staff over the smallest things.
The girl in question does not immediately speak. Nor give any sign of registering that the maid had spoken. No, she does none of those things. Because she is too preoccupied with the memories that come to mind when she sees the maid. “You’re…” When the girl does speak, it is a whisper. Meant for her own ears. Her dull grey gaze locked onto the maid yet slightly unfocused. Seemingly stuck in the transition from staring at the maid to staring at something just passed her. She recognizes the maid. And she is unable to believe it. Because the maid in question is a character in a game from her previous life. Something that she feels is impossible. Despite the evidence to the contrary.
This revelation, combined with the memories she has of this ‘life’ she has awakened to, causes her eyes to widen a fraction. “This is…” The girl is unable to finish her sentences. The memories and the maid, the revelation leaves her without words – She has been reborn.