Still A Snake

Mari bites back tears as she scurries towards the bathroom, only to be tripped over. She collapses, bones aching as she lands.

Mari hangs her head low in defeat as a packet of crumbs is scattered over her head from a leftover pack of biscuits. She picks herself up forcefully, knees now buckled and bruised, running to the bathroom in a frenzy.

How did it turn out like this? Should I not have trusted someone I've loved like a sister?

Mari slams her palms against the sink, staring at her pitiful self in the mirror. She looks pathetic, like a puppy in the rain with her dirty, wire-like hair and paled skin.

Her cheeks are tear-stained and it looks like she's been crying for much longer than she realises. Her heart starts to ache, a tear slipping off her eyelid. Is this a good enough reason to die? Mari's hands tremble against the cold marble.

Do I have a good enough reason to live?

She fidgets with her hair, attempting to scrape out the crumbs of food and smoothen out the free strands of hair. Her fingers are stained with a disgusting mixture of wet food.

If asked, Mari would not be able to pinpoint when exactly she lost her mind.

Being driven to insanity is easy under a very specific set of circumstances that a small group of people are put through, and Mari wouldn't be able to state the timeline during which it happened

. It might've been the death threats scribbled on her desk that she's had to wipe off, or the constant pouring of water over her head, or having her books thrown away.

Mari is down to one last uniform before it's stained with paint during art such that she needs to walk while turning her head to every corner so she won't get marked down for misconduct.

. . .

Myra is shaken back to reality as a distant crash is heard. By the time she has regained her composure, the girl she's been staring at has broken eye contact to assist the servant who had fallen over while retrieving dirty cloth.

Though she'll never be able to get any more of a confirmation whether or not Ariana is the 'Ara' she's been looking for for her revenge, her current recollection should be telling enough.

At this very moment, she finds herself being washed over by an unspeakable, almost tormenting rage that she's carried from her past life into this one. This, in itself, gives her a reason for revenge.

Myra lowers her gaze as she clenches her fist, turning away from the scene before other guests realise she's been frozen at the same point for a while.

The chatter floating in the air is enough to allow her some space to think, but for some reason, she still feels hopeless when it comes to thinking of aplan instantaneously. It's impossible, almost, because she knows nothing of her reputation or the state of her relationships.

Myra flicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth in impatience as she realises no solid thought is coming to her in time. Soon, an eureka hits her that she shouldn't be brash with her approach and for whatever reason, it may be intelligent to be stealthy.

After all, revenge is never easy. She couldn't risk damaging her entire reputation in her current life to avenge her past self, knowing this is the only life she'll have until she dies.

It would be embarrassing if she failed because of her lack of patience so knowing herself, she'll have to control herself till she's gotten used to methodical planning and slyness.

At this very moment, a tap on her shoulder awakens her from her daze and eggs her to turn.

As surprising as it is, it's none other than the host of the party herself.

Ariana's wearing a gorgeous pink gown which hugs her frame from the waist and up, with a fur coat hugging her shoulders. Her blonde hair is tied into a bun with pearls and in a way, Myra realises how similar they look by colour palette.

"Oh?" she responds upon turning, raising an eyebrow in question as she hadn't expected being approached by the person she'd been racking her brains about. Her heart rate slows, almost in the way a predator creeps in face of its prey.

"Good afternoon, you must be Myra Ruskin? I heard you recently recovered from your rest as well. I'm glad you were able to make it," Ariana coos and reaches her arms forward with no warning nor hesitation.

Myra, taken aback, tries her hardest not to reciprocate the hug unless necessary and simply pats the other girl on the waist to comfort her.

"I've been hoping to see you for a while, actually. My apologies if the party was too sudden. It felt like I had to put myself out in the social circles before my name was tarnished and forgotten."

Myra lets out a forced laugh.

"Aha, I'm happy to see you as well. As far as I'm aware, we've never spoken much beyond family gatherings. What made me so important for you to need me so urgently?" she asks casually, her motive tucked beneath the innocent cover of her question.

Ariana visibly pauses for a moment, a stutter in her voice as she opens her mouth to speak but struggles to find an appropriate answer to fit the degree of her claim.

While it's only momentary, it's not difficult to spot for someone watching so intently.

"There aren't many noble girls around my age in the other families. Of course, I'm friends with some of the Marquesses' daughters and otherwise but I felt you would empathise with me best since we're almost in the same situation! If you'd like, we could be great friends starting from today," Ariana chirps, swaying on the spot.

Before Myra can spare an answer, one of the head maids rings a bell, calling the guests to the table. The hostess gasps and quickly turns back to bid a quick farewell, "I'll definitely speak to you once the lunch is over. Think about your answer, Myra!"

Myra smiles just enough for Ariana to see it until she merges into the crowd heading to the table. When she's no longer seen by others, she rolls her eyes and brushes her waist where she'd been held during the hug.

With no exaggeration, she could see herself throwing up at the sound of her name in the pretentious Ariana's voice.

At this very moment, she feels someone wrap an arm around her shoulder, almost triggering her fight-or-flight.

"Are you feeling any better from yesterday?" Marquess Ares asks as he reveals himself.

"God, if you sneak up on me, I'll end up jabbing you in the stomach," Myra rolls her eyes (playfully, this time, with no bite to her tone) as she shakes his arm off her shoulder.

While the guests are busy getting settled, she takes the opportunity to pull out the anti-toxin vial from her pocket and quickly consume its contents.

Ares looks at it with a questioning look before noticing the symbol plastered on its outside and understanding. "It's so that I don't die if my food was poisoned or something."