solo || From Noble to Nothing
The interior corridor to the farmhand quarters was abuzz with chortles. Young girls ran to a fro through the hallway, exchanging pleasantries and gossip amongst one another. There was but one who had not joined the fray: Adalwolfa. She had better things to do with her time, though the desire to join in and brag of her exploits was incredibly tempting. Instead, her eyebrow twitched in annoyance from the floor of her rented room as she dug through a trunk of useless items searching for anything she could pawn off for a bit more spending money for food. The last few days, she hadn't eaten too well, and it was taken its toll on her fatigue.
She wanted to get up and slam her ajar door, having left it open in the first place to draft some cool air into her room. Just as when she was about to call it quits and give in to her desire, one of the girls pirouetted into her room. Drawing back at her appearance, Adalwolfa watched as the dress pressed to her bosom fluttered up and then settled at her knees when the girl faced front beaming to her.
"Look, look, Fran!" she cried. "Look what Johnson got for me! Isn't it pretty?"
Repressing her desire to gag, Adalwolfa, or rather, Franziska, as she was known by the other girls, reached a hand out and smoothed the hem of the dress between forefinger and thumb. The material was coarse -- akin to sandpaper in her mind -- as she released it. Wrinkling her nose, she forced a smile.
"It's lovely," she lied. "What a wonderful gift."
Content upon receiving Adalwolfa's approval, the girl gracefully spun out of her room just as she had entered, bidding the teen farewell in the process. Without hesitation after she left, the silver-haired female was to her feet. Rushing up to her door, she bolted it shut before anyone else could trespass inside and bother her. Letting out a sigh, she backpedaled from the door to her single-sized bed and fell onto it with a plop. The mattress creaked under her weight as her grey eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling.
Flicking her lids shut, Adalwolfa couldn't repress the memories brought on by that little encounter. She recalled how she too would act the same way whenever her mother or father bought her something new and pretty to wear. It was almost degrading to remember and the once-noble's face strained in dismay.
I wonder what those ******** are up to now, she mused to herself. I hope they're getting the most of out life because I know I'm not.
Releasing a sigh, the girl couldn't help but remember her earlier life as a lady of the court. For fourteen years of her life, she lived in luxury. Anything her heart craved was presented, literally, on a silver platter. The world was her oyster and life her pearl.
But that wasn't the case anymore.
I didn't have so many friends as I do now, she thought to herself, recalling Waldemar, her miniature terrier and only companion as a little girl living within Sina. But at least I was happy.
Adalwolfa could still remember the look on her father's face when his accountant arrived that month to update him of his spending. Reimar's gleeful expression dropped to one of serious panic when the man hung his shoulder, pressed his hat to his chest, and informed the Westhofen his father's fortune was in the red.
"Ch-check again!" he bellowed firmly as he tossed stack upon stack of papers to his accountant, each bundle documenting all of the family's spending habits for each month. "Go back months, years, decades! I don't care! Make sure you haven't made a mistake!"
The two went at it all night; double-checking, triple-checking to confirm the man's beliefs. Unfortunately, each attempt to find a misplaced comma, false transaction, or other came to no avail. Every attempt yielded the same result: the Westhofen fortune was no more. Reimar complimented his accountant for his steadfast work all of those years, and then promptly fired him that night. Come the morning, he broke the news to Hilda, and his wife sobbed hysterically that entire day. Adalwolfa could only watch from the shadows without a stir. She wanted to join her mother in crying, but the tears just wouldn't come even if she willed them.
A month after, the Westhofen manor was bare of any furniture. Come the next month, their jewelery, and the next, their clothing. Adalwolfa did put up a fuss with the first two, but as soon as they started on her dresses, her anger flared. She recalled how she tried to yank one of hr favorite dresses -- a royal blue tudor gown -- from her mother as she pulled garment after garment from the chifforobe in her room.
"No!" she had cried at the top of her lungs. "You're already taken everything from me, don't take this!"
Hilda could only argue with her daughter for so long until she released one hand from the gown and cuffed Adalwolfa hard across the face. She tumbled back to the tilted floor of her room, clutching her cheek as a hand print swelled red on her fair complexion. She shot a chilling glare to her mother as the woman began trot off with her clothing draped over her arm. Adalwolfa was to her feet again and tried to wrestle them from her again, but another hard slap and subsequent door slam in her face quieted her actions altogether.
They fled from their debt int he cover of night within whatever coin was in their pockets and clothes on their back. In Shinganshina, her parents still did not learn, and they continued to spend, but this time on vices once alien to them. Hilda because a lush that threw coins at anything with alcohol in it. Reimar grew addicted to brothels due to the constant absence of his wife at taverns and bars. What love (if any) they had for Adalwolfa slowly dissipated until she became simply a thing in their lives. The girl remembered how she kicked and screamed as they forcefully cut her long locks to fund their outlets. A bit of her soul was clipped away that day.
She was the only one that did not give in, however; easing into the trials as a farmhand by waking early and bowing to the sun until it set behind the walls surrounding Shiganshina. Like leaves carried by the wind, her parents traipsed out of her life without her realizing. Adalwolfa's mind was fully dedicated to her new chore and life passed her by in the span of two years. She was so young, but felt so old. Snapping her eyes open, she stared into her raised palm, and rubbed a thumb over the calluses over what was once smooth, soft skin.
"I've fallen," she muttered to herself. "Deep into the dredges of society, I've fallen." She balled her hand into a fist. "I don't even have wings to fly away."
She splayed her fingers on her face and exhaled deeply to its middle. Beneath the murky darkness of her eyelids, an image suddenly crept forth, and the epiphany that followed jolted her upright.
"The Wings of Freedom," she murmured, recalling one of the branches of the military's patch. "And the... The Military Police."
The idea that formed seemed too good to be true. "If I... join the military... If I make it into the Military Police, I could- I can return to a semblance of the life I once knew..." A tremble passed through her for come the realization. "I can return to my life. I can."
