Emotions

The letter felt like an unforgiving method of internal torture, but regardless of its effects, she had felt not one iota of hate towards the messenger. The growing rate of the theme of "Birdcage" seemed to be far too abused to the point where she could no longer waste her anger on anyone who spoke of it. Almost from the very beginning of the letter, she felt indifferent to the neatly written letters decorating the parchment, mahogany eyes only scanning briefly over what the maids must've been fussing about. But her nonchalant facial expression had melted, contorting into a bitter, despicable grin. Cordelia, silent and unwilling to let out even a sigh of her aggravation, had no choice but to continue to listen to the muffled sounds of her heels on the carpet as she neared her husband's study. Another sixteen steps until the old butler cut in to kindly open the door for the Madam, letting her step in then softly shutting the door, whispering something Cordelia had failed to pick up on.

"Are you, by any chance, aware of what the staff have been gossiping of these past few weeks?" She started, eyeing Forrest who seemed surprised by her sudden visit; the tone in her voice sounding as if she were accusing him of something. Forrest slid off his golden spectacles, setting them down on the desk, and looked back at his beautiful wife with his pointed chin resting atop his intertwined hands. His steel gaze clashed with her darkened one, the two going off in a silent battle of searching for any satisfactory answers. Forrest, however, broke it off when a decided, malignant smirk made its way to his lips.

"Indeed, I am." Was all he responded with, amused by the way his beautiful wife narrowed her eyes in an almost, suspicious manner.

"Had we not vowed to be truthful to each other?"

"My darling, it will not be enough when only one of two in a relationship speaks their vows in truth."

"Are you implying that one of us lied on our own wedding day?"

At this point, the two wore the same wry grin, Forrest's being more prominent. Strange, it really was, despite the two glaring at each other with minds of their own, the atmosphere almost felt normal. Not one uncomfortable feeling of tension, or fear running down spines, sending shivers down the other's bodies. He stood up from his seat, taking long, choreographed strides to where she stood by the door. His face was an obscure artist's twisted understanding of righteous; a look of haughty disdain coating his silver eyes, any signs of respect or kindness completely forgotten by him.

She watched through half-lidded eyes, boredom and sheer disapproval coursing through her veins. The essential question, the very one she had asked him only moments ago, was answered instantaneously.

"An arrogant boy binding his only love to a contract with sweet nothings." She chastised, her head lowered with her bangs dropping at the sides of her face, small chuckles leaving her rose-colored lips. Her actions could not be excused as it was abundantly clear she was letting her emotions get in the way of everything as of this very moment, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't stop. Cordelia's head shot up, her wide eyes shooting daggers into his, "You really ought to grow up, petit morveux!"

The doors burst open then shut close within the blink of an eye. Her eyes had failed her as something was covering them, rendered useless for the time being. Cordelia, finally out of that situation, released the breath she had been holding in for so long, her chest rising and falling at an abnormal rate. The refreshing breeze, however, helped if not only a tad, to calm her down. The complete change of scenery was apparent, even without being able to see where exactly she was being taken. It was of no real concern, she was too fixed on the rising argument.

"A child telling another child to grow up…I might as well have been venting out at a mirror…"She muttered, unaware of the pair of eyes frowning at her.

...

"Madam Hockley!" Cordelia turned around to see a panting maid dash over to her, nearly tripping in the process, "There is… a young man...in the garden…by your rose bushes!!!"

Cordelia quickly thanked the maid before hastily walking away towards the back, breaking out into a full sprint by the time no one else was in sight. Cordelia wasn't known to pray in times of desperation, but she was far too blinded by her peculiar obsession to even think of what could happen.

Her feet thudding on the damp grass with her wide, crazed eyes fixed on the greenery adorned with roses shaded a bold maroon. Enchanting, they were, yet it was clear by the fallen buds and petals on the ground that they had been ruthlessly tampered with. Cordelia cautiously, with still a ghoulish expression, made her way to the left to suddenly feel a tight grip on her hips, yanking her down onto the ground with enough force to leave a bruise. Captured in a stranger's iron grip, thrashing around only proved to be futile. And though that fact was unmistakable, she began screaming against the hand held against her mouth; all the while, the world belittled her with its noise, sounds of infants giggling and a woman's voice muttering colorful profanities under her breath. Rain plunged down on the earth, fitful, hot. The deafening beats of rain droplets splattering onto the already damp grass, seeming never-ending, echoing so loud it'd be enough to cause her migraines for hours.

"Madam Hockley!"