Chapter 17 {Golden}
Echinacia gratefully accepted the water and food from the makeup artist, her throat parched from the long shoot. She took a few sips, savoring the cool liquid as it hydrated her. The makeup artist bustled around her, gently wiping away the remnants of the various looks she had donned for the shoot.
Ella, meanwhile, had already turned on her heel and walked away, her attention already diverted to some other pressing matter. Echinacia watched her mother's retreating figure with a mix of relief and resentment. It was a familiar dance Ella's constant prioritization of her own interests over Echinacia's wellbeing.
As the studio began to empty out, Echinacia found herself alone with her thoughts. She glanced down at the designer clothes she wore, a bitter smile twisting her lips. These garments were just another mask, another facade to hide behind.
She stood up abruptly, shedding the expensive fabric like a snake shedding its skin.
The familiar chime of the Tigre system resonated in Echinacia's mind, a welcome sound after what felt like an eternity of superficiality. A holographic interface shimmered into existence before her eyes, displaying a cheerful, animated tiger icon.
"Host, how are you finally!" Tigre exclaimed, its digital voice brimming with enthusiasm.
"Honestly, you've been reborn for the past two days! I was starting to worry you'd forgotten about me."
Echinacia allowed herself a small smile, a genuine expression that hadn't graced her face in quite some time. The charade of Rosemary, the modeling world, Ella's demands it had all been a distraction, a necessary step in her larger plan.
"Don't worry, I didn't forget about my mission," she replied calmly, her gaze fixed on the holographic tiger.
The Swan Villa felt even more suffocating now than it had earlier. The sterile elegance, the hushed tones of the staff, the constant feeling of being watched it all grated on Echinacia's nerves. She appreciated the gesture of the head butler leaving a tray of fresh fruit in her room, but even that felt like a carefully orchestrated performance designed to maintain appearances.
She carried the tray into her bedroom, a spacious suite filled with expensive furniture and luxurious amenities. It was a gilded cage, a symbol of her adoptive family's wealth and power. She set the tray down on a small table beside her bed and began to peel an orange, savoring the sweet, citrusy aroma.
As she ate, she allowed herself to focus on Tigre's presence in her mind. The system's cheerful energy was a welcome contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the villa.
The moment Echinacia was alone in her room, the façade of Rosemary crumbled. The elegant gown was discarded, replaced by comfortable athletic wear. Her focus shifted entirely to the task at hand: reclaiming her past and fulfilling her mission.
She pulled up a holographic design interface, her fingers flying across the surface as she began sketching out a ballet outfit. It wasn't just any ballet outfit; it was a meticulously crafted costume designed to enhance her agility and flexibility while subtly concealing a few… modifications. She needed something that would allow her to move with unparalleled grace and precision, something that would be both beautiful and functional.
Hours melted away as she refined the design, experimenting with different fabrics, cuts, and embellishments. She wanted something that reflected her own unique style – a blend of classic elegance and modern innovation.
The meticulous design work had taken its toll, and a wave of fatigue washed over Echinacia. She stretched languidly, her muscles protesting after hours of intense concentration. A yawn escaped her lips, a sign that it was time for a change of pace.
She pushed the holographic design interface aside and reached for her lyric notebook and a specialized laptop – one she'd secretly acquired specifically for composing music. It was a passion she'd nurtured since childhood, a creative outlet that allowed her to express emotions she often kept hidden.
She slipped on a pair of noisecanceling headphones, shutting out the world around her as she immersed herself in the realm of sound. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, layering beats and melodies with practiced ease. Then, she began to sing, her voice resonating with raw emotion and undeniable talent.
As Echinacia poured her heart into the music, a captivating melody began to take shape. The lyrics flowed effortlessly, weaving a tale of resilience and transformation – a story that mirrored her own journey. She sang of a golden girl, trapped in a gilded cage, yearning for freedom and redemption.
The chorus echoed with defiance:
"Golden girl in chains,
Shining bright through the pain.
I'll break these bars, I'll rise above,
Golden girl, my tale of love."
Her voice soared and dipped, conveying the depth of emotion behind each word. The beat pulsed with an infectious energy, underscoring the determination and hope that drove her forward. It was a song of empowerment, a declaration of independence.
As the final notes faded, Echinacia leaned back in her chair, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips. The song, titled "Golden," felt like a piece of her soul laid bare. It was more than just a song; it was a promise to herself – a reminder of the strength and resilience that resided within her.
She replayed the track, listening intently for any imperfections. Tigre's holographic form appeared beside her, its digital eyes sparkling with approval.
"That was incredible, Host! The lyrics are powerful, the melody is captivating – it's truly a masterpiece!" Tigre exclaimed enthusiastically.
"Of course it is."
She changed into her leggings and she walked down the stairs and walked inside the dancing studio that was inside the villa she cleared her throat.
"Hey Siri play hip pop mix of ballet," Echinacia said.
Echinacia's voice echoed through the expansive dance studio, commanding the smart home system to play her customized playlist. The room filled with a blend of classical ballet scores and modern hiphop beats, creating a unique fusion that reflected her own eclectic style.
She began to move, her body responding instinctively to the music. Her feet pointed and flexed, her arms arched gracefully overhead as she executed perfect pirouettes and arabesques. Yet, there was an edge to her performance – a raw energy that set her apart from traditional ballerinas.
As the tempo intensified, so did her movements. She incorporated daring leaps and spins, pushing herself to the limit. Her muscles burned with exertion, but she welcomed the sensation. It was a reminder that she was alive, that she had control over her own body and destiny.
The relentless cycle of training, composing, and refining her plans consumed Echinacia's every waking moment. Three hours in the dance studio each day bled into a month of unwavering dedication. She pushed her body to its absolute limits, sculpting her physique with a discipline born of necessity. Every muscle screamed in protest, every fiber strained with exertion, but she pressed on, driven by a singular purpose.
She barely registered the passage of time, lost in the rhythm of movement and the flow of creativity. The opulent surroundings of the Swan Villa faded into the background as she focused solely on honing her skills and preparing for the challenges that lay ahead.
The question of why she appeared cold and indifferent often surfaced in the whispers of those who encountered her. It was a perception carefully cultivated, a shield against vulnerability. The truth was far more complex – a consequence of a childhood devoid of genuine affection.