That was it. The show was over. Time for the curtain to fall, and everything to end.
With one last bow to her adoring audience, a thunderous round of applause and cheers echoing to and fro and all about the packed music hall, she blew a few kisses, giving a few beaming, lovely smiles here and there....before the curtain closed, the spotlights dimmed....and the mask fell off, revealing the true Daniella.
It brought her nothing anymore, the singing, the fame, the hundreds of men and women who treated her as though she were a goddess among them, no joy whatsoever.
She sighed, deeply, quick to return to her dressing room and pull the ribbons from her hair, the tacky, gaudy jewelry she hastily yanked off of her as though it were ablaze with flames or coated in some sort of corrosive liquid searing into her flesh. Then that dress, so tight, so constricting, like some sort of serpent or living creature that tried to swallow her, crushing her bones and grinding them into nothing...nothing but ashes. Oh how it felt to finally be rid of it, now just sitting at her vanity, only wearing her pale lavender slip she had underneath the dress. Yes, Khalil designed it, and grateful she was for the sweet young man, but....it was what she felt when she was wearing the dress....not herself...
There was knock at her door, startling her somewhat, Daniella pulling on a silk robe, designed with influence from one of the eastern countries.
~"C-come in."~ Softly she replied to the knocking. The door opened, slowly, with a creak of the old hinges, and there he stood...
Magnus Carthenwald, one of the most trusted names in the railroad and shipping industries, and...her father.
"There she is!" With a hearty laugh he hugged Daniella, one of his famous bear hugs. If that damn dress didn't squeeze the life out of her, he certainly did. It may have been fine when she was what, three or four years old, back before she saw the man for who he was under his pristine, sharp suit and his fine groomed looks. But now, Daniella a full blossomed woman, it just felt...mortifying. Reluctant, she returned the hug,
~"Hello father. Did you enjoy the show?"~"Did I enjoy it?" Jovially he replied clapping his hands together.
"You were splendid, Daniella! The crowd loved you! Oh...if only your mother could be here to see it. She would be so damn proud of you, as am I?"Her mother, yes, the one who molded her into the beautiful and talented person she is now....no longer with them. There wasn't much Daniella remembered of the day her mother passed on, other than her sporadic coughing fits, seeing the life....fade from her very eyes, and...gods...all that blood she hacked up. She could remember half the maids fainting from the sight of it, a bit of dark humor...for such a mournful experience. She did love her mother, but one thing Daniella could recall.....no tears, none she shed, even at her memorial service her own daughter was stoic, emotionless...about as vacant expression as the very cold and withered marble statues of the cemetery. It wasn't because she hated her, no, it was simply....the girl was without any tears, having wasted them on so many other things.
Ah...and that brought up something else. Her mother's doctor she didn't expect to be a long lost companion of hers,
@Fubsy Marcella. But Daniella, even when she was met by the dark, urgent eyes of the lovely Italian, she too having blossomed into a refined young woman, nary a word she spoke to her... Not a single conversation carried, just...silence between the two. Daniella...she wondered if she had come off as snooty, a rich celebrity with no need for friends, no need for the past. She wondered...if it hurt Marcella...as much as it hurt her inside to be so callous.
~"I'm sure mother enjoyed it, father, from her own special place in the heavens above."~ She sighed, a small frown as if to indicate sadness, when really there was no emotion left within her. Her father nodded,
"Yes, I believe she did, my daughter. Well then, I best be off. Got to be well rested, because bright and early tomorrow, my campaign begins!" That last bit he added with such arrogant flair. Daniella, her brow furrowed to him.
~"Campaign?"~ She inquired.
~"What campaign?"~"Oh, you haven't heard, dear?" Magnus returned quite surprised.
"Surely you have. It's been broadcasted all over the radio." Then, the bombshell, delivered with such a pompous attitude she could only expect from him.
"Magnus T. Carthenwald, a name of trust, stability, and pride for this fair state, is running for the office of Governor. I should be a shoo-in too. The only competition is some brat, a metalheart sympathizer. Pah! I can't even recall what the imbecile's name was. Wait. Ah yes! Matthew ([@Slendy}] was his name, Matthew L. Siege the Fourth. Heh, the boy thinks he can bring about change to this city? He speaks nonsense! The people don't want change! They want honesty, integrity, and above all else not some limp wristed fool who will cower to any demand those grubby creatures give him! They want a man who will clean up the filth and muck those bastards have tainted our fair city with, all that damn smog and refuse from their factories and foundries littering our streets, defiling every inch of our grand community! And worse, they're out in the streets, demanding equal rights. They think they deserve what the rich have acquired after such a long, harrowing struggle. Well I say no. The Metalhearts need to learn their place, beneath our feet."Ill....that is how she felt listening to this...this... How wretched, how cruel his words, even towards his own daughter. Daniella didn't see them as such. The metalhearts, they were only good honest workers, unlike the fat, greedy bastard before her, who rather than work with his so called
honesty and
integrity, cheated his way to the top, crushing hearts and souls beneath his feet just to rise above the ranks. The metalhearts were not the filth of the city. No...it was people like her father, people like the pompous and haughty aristocrats who never worked an honest day in their life, and they claim they're better than them?
But Daniella...as much as she wanted to. As much as she wanted to lash out at the bigotry spouted from his putrid lips, she let it all simply brush by her ears like a glancing bullet, sharp and painful...but it didn't wound her....well in some way it had.
For while she had no ill word nor thought towards all metalhearts. In her heart, there was still a special place for one in particular.
She wondered...where was he?