He shouldn't be doing this. He didn't know why he shouldn't be, it was just a rule. A rule given a thousand reasons.
Miscreant.
But he was doing it anyways. Sitting across the room from her on the wooden floor, knees pulled up, arms resting on them. Not really thinking. Just looking.
Her eyes were closed. What color would they be if they were open? Red. A dull, faded red. Same as her cage, her dress. Paint peeling, unmaintenanced, unneeded.
He couldn't wrap his mind around it. She had been so full of life, never quiet and doing what she pleased, what was this? It couldn't have been fake. Just child's play. It didn't make sense, it couldn't. Ari wouldn't allow it.
Get out.
Her actions, thoughts, expressions… Were puppetted? By who? Beiloune? Her?
But she wasn't much different than him, was she? She was just a toy, a character in a fairy tale. The unfortunate prize for the dashing hero. The one who would lead to the treasure. To the real princess.
What then?
She's lost. You have no other purpose.
He hadn't liked her very much. Though she was probably trying to be someone herself, just like him. She was just there to relay the missing world to the girl. She wasn't lost, she was right there, hiding. Just like him.
Shivering slightly, he realized that it was beginning to get colder down here. He didn't want to stand up, though. He didn't want to leave. Not right now.
What was he, then? Marlene, with her flawless porcelain skin and jeweled ruby eyes was a puppet. Too pretty to be a doll, and worn down with constant use. The strings were breaking, had broken, and she had fallen limply to the ground, silk hair ripping.
Out.
Then he was a clay solider. Faceless, unattached, expendable. Too shabby to be used, too dull to be noticed. New and already fading, his eyes drawn with the color of emerald was coming off, colors smearing revealing the nothing underneath. Made with rushed effort and then shoved to the back end of the shelf. The only one not smiling.
"Hey..."
But he didn't regret. Or, at least, he thought he didn't, his feelings where glazed over and his eyes were unfocused. He wasn't made to think and understand. Not things like this. Or was he? Mental locks or creation locks… The same.
Marlene looked stiff.
"…Can you hear me?"
He stood up, brushing off his pants, snapping out of his trance-like state. But that's what it was, one could say. A trance. A small part of him he hardly touched.
"…Tell me…"
There was a mirror shard in the corner when he glanced back. His eyes lingered on them a moment more, not looking at the reflection, before turning around quickly, and walked up the stairs.
"Why?"
You don't belong here.