Owain spotted her looking around the room. She ran her good hand down her face and looked over at the soldier. He looked different. His short and ragged black hair was smooth. His clothing was rather contrasting: Owain wore a brown and unbuttoned vest with a cream colored button up shirt underneath, his shirt was tucked into a pair of dark brown pinstripe pants with a utility belt for common things like money and pencils. Along with the opposite choice of clothing from his dark uniform, he smiled more. The man looked cheery, and Victoria didn't know why.
"That's certainly a change of clothing. Sir," she almost forgot that all civilians were required to address soldiers as "Sir".
"Hey, I won't have any of that. Don't call me Sir, the name's Owain," his deep voice alarmed her again.
"So, why didn't you leave me. I would have been better off if-"
"I didn't leave you behind because it wasn't your time. I couldn't just leave you there. It wasn't right."
"You should have left me. It would have been better that way," Victoria looked away from Owain and out the window. Life wouldn't be the same without him. She felt tears begin to roll down her face again, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.
"He's dead, and we both know it's true. The Azar always executes Steampunks, even you should know that," her voice was stern and unforgiving. Nothing he could say would change her mind. She let out a ragged sigh as more tears poured down her porcelain cheeks. Maybe time will heal this deep wound in my heart, she thought.
Time indeed did pass by for Victoria. Six months went by and she spent most of her time recovering from her serious injuries caused when they blew up her brother's bedroom door. Time didn't just help her heal, it helped fuel the fires for vengeance. Her heart burned with the passion to fight back the monsters who murdered her family. Time was on her side, and she knew it. With Owain's knowledge of the structure the Azar had set up to prevent rebellions, their plans could almost be possible. All that was needed was the support of the people, who were terrified to do anything at the moment.
During the six months Victoria was recuperating. Her once lush and vibrant brown curls flattened and dulled. The things that gave her happiness were gone, and so was her luster. Owain was quick to pick up on her depression and did everything he could to cheer her up. Some days he could get her to smile, but at a certain point nothing worked. He hadn't seen a smile out of her in four months. The hard part about it was that she didn't deny that she was depressed. She simply jumped on Owain and the good doctor every time the asked her about
"That's certainly a change of clothing. Sir," she almost forgot that all civilians were required to address soldiers as "Sir".
"Hey, I won't have any of that. Don't call me Sir, the name's Owain," his deep voice alarmed her again.
"So, why didn't you leave me. I would have been better off if-"
"I didn't leave you behind because it wasn't your time. I couldn't just leave you there. It wasn't right."
"You should have left me. It would have been better that way," Victoria looked away from Owain and out the window. Life wouldn't be the same without him. She felt tears begin to roll down her face again, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.
"He's dead, and we both know it's true. The Azar always executes Steampunks, even you should know that," her voice was stern and unforgiving. Nothing he could say would change her mind. She let out a ragged sigh as more tears poured down her porcelain cheeks. Maybe time will heal this deep wound in my heart, she thought.
Time indeed did pass by for Victoria. Six months went by and she spent most of her time recovering from her serious injuries caused when they blew up her brother's bedroom door. Time didn't just help her heal, it helped fuel the fires for vengeance. Her heart burned with the passion to fight back the monsters who murdered her family. Time was on her side, and she knew it. With Owain's knowledge of the structure the Azar had set up to prevent rebellions, their plans could almost be possible. All that was needed was the support of the people, who were terrified to do anything at the moment.
During the six months Victoria was recuperating. Her once lush and vibrant brown curls flattened and dulled. The things that gave her happiness were gone, and so was her luster. Owain was quick to pick up on her depression and did everything he could to cheer her up. Some days he could get her to smile, but at a certain point nothing worked. He hadn't seen a smile out of her in four months. The hard part about it was that she didn't deny that she was depressed. She simply jumped on Owain and the good doctor every time the asked her about
