A Meeting Marred

A Distant Place

A hooded figure nervously navigates the streets of a busy town. Only a few silver locks peeking from the hood and a vaguely feminine outline hint at the person beneath. The first thought likely going through the heads of the people the figure passes by is, 'How suspicious.' The second would be, 'What are they up to?' Or maybe, 'Did they sew that rag themselves?' For as strange as it is to go through the effort to conceal yourself if you were not some thug, most thieves did not wear brightly colored cloaks embroidered with flower patterns. Clever ones certainly didn't bump into people while they were busy staring longingly at window displays.

"Hey! Watch it, lady!"

The figure is knocked to the ground, exposing a pair of long and delicate legs as the cloak is displaced. In a panic, she clutches at its interior to keep her arms and torso from being exposed as well, yet she finds herself grinning despite the situation.

"Lady? O-Oh! I'll be more careful!"

The figure scurries to her feet and into an alley. She pants and her body trembles with excitement over what it considered a close call.

Lady. A simple word, but one that would make any girl's heart flutter the first time it was directed at them. And she wasn't quite a girl anymore, was she? There was still some fat left in her cheeks, but she was considerably taller than her peers. Enough so that a man could mistake her for a lady without having a better look. And where a girl might be an awkward thing that hide herself, a lady was dripping with elegance and confidence. A girl was shunned and mocked. A lady was adored and praised for her beauty.

Her sprint slows to a crawl and the girl's eyes are drawn to the sight of her own reflection in a puddle. The hood comes down to reveal a great length of shining, silver hair. It was well kept with a portion braided into a crown and purple clip that continued the flower motif. It was nice, she thought. Yet, it was for no one's eyes but her own. A hand emerges from beneath the cloak as she plays with a tuft of hair. Attached is an arm that matches her legs in length. Either of these features was perfectly fine on their own, but together they were a disaster. It was isolating. Most people did not look like her. The dresses she dreamed of wearing were not made of her.

Who would treat me like a lady?

VIP Room, The Sternsiegel Palladium

"Any more questions?"

Mioka's throat feels dry and a chill settles in her core. All she can do is quietly shake her head in response as she attempts to make sense of her situation. Her gaze wanders to the Lunarian's poster. The woman pictured, Sora Tenshi as the poster stated, was undeniably beautiful. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that she was unlike anyone the ensign had ever seen. After all, she was born long past the time when they were common, and this one had been a noble's favorite slave until recently. It must have been terribly lonely.

Now, the Captain and Rear Admiral Tenot were discussing her capture.

"Can you arrange that, Mioka?"

"A-Ah? Of course, Captain! Everything will be done exactly as ordered."

Grace gives Mioka a doubtful look. Under normal circumstances, she would simply ask for clarification. The lazy gaze of the noble who summoned them tells her that it's better to pretend she understands for now. Even if Lord Morgenstern were not present, Mioka had little desire to engage with the conversation beyond what was required. If the current scene were a painting, then someone had defaced it with splotches of murky colors that were entirely unfitting. It all felt a little ugly deposit despite the beauty of the separate elements.