"You regenerated... your slit mouth?" Jacquelyne gave a slight laugh, her eyes wide in shock, her lips quivering due to an attempt to chuckle.

"And what of it?" Abrielle asked nonchalantly.

"No... nothing? You look magnificent. Absolutely."

Abrielle looked up from the sheets Jacquelyne had just handed her. A proof of loyalty, a symbol of undying trust – the Nom that Jacquelyne had read, she hadn't failed to deliver.

As Abrielle flipped to the pages, she, once again, felt so grateful. Luck was perhaps on their side that day – if not for their meeting with Océane, what would have the two done – the two who ran away without a plan of staying alive and just dreamt of infiltrating Paris and whatnot?

They had been a bit foolish back then; but naivety was something Abrielle never had from birth, so it was kind of a surprise.

But Océane was terribly kind – no, suspiciously kind – and he treated Jacquelyne as if she were the heir of the house... which she was, to be fair.

Abrielle, though she was referred to with a different title, was not left out either – treated just as sweetly. The maids were oddly affectionate, always tending to her without a single complaint; sometimes their situation reminded Abrielle of her dark days in the Church, the difference lying in the punishment, the whipping the Nameless received upon making mistakes.

And Jacquelyne did ask them about how they felt – that small action had such an immense effect that the maids began crying altogether, and opened their hearts to their mistress.

The sweetest food was made with bead-like substances which had a ton a different shapes and flavors and names, butter, and sugar – bread, butter, and sugar, mind you. The clothes were elegant – elegant gowns with a supporting corset, mind you. Meat was endless – endless, mind you.

Apologies, but Abrielle relished food so very much that her inner desires had already made her gain some weight – and the maids had unlimited supply for this glutton, claiming that they must fatten their Mademoiselle Abrielle and Madame Jacquelyne, for it was Sire Océane's wish!

Abrielle nodded. "Thank you. Now, as I always do, I'll grant you a reward. For compensation."

Jacquelyne said nothing for a moment; her heart was betrayed, mistrust growing every second. Yes, she knew that the Nameless were injured physically and mentally to the point of hatred towards every other individual, no exceptions made for good intentions either. Yes, she had grown accustomed to this hazardous behavior Abrielle always awarded her harmless faith with – and she had accepted it too, perhaps even enjoyed it.

Yes, she looked up to a person unworthy of love.

And Abrielle knew, she could see the ever-growing rage within Jacquelyne, yet she just shrugged it off – it was very common, and Jacquelyne could never abandon her for longer than a day.

Jacquelyne had no one else but her. Océane wore a façade, and sooner or later he'd turn his back on them – he was the King's trusted advisor, after all. Not to mention the women of France who had finally realized – they had first started the hunt to have the Queen guillotined and the successors of the throne imprisoned, then they had all the unground societies disband as they were threatening, and now they were coming for both the girls' necks.

Who was Jacquelyne to Abrielle?

A tool.

"You've gone and done it, dear Abrielle. Happy regeneration!" Jacquelyne spat. "Training, was it? You were training your body was tearing it open and mending it back with your powers, correct? Well, guess what?"

Jacquelyne's eyes shone with tears. "You've gone and done it."

Abrielle lacked the essential knowledge she required to understand Jacquelyne's words, so she was unable to decipher Jacquelyne's behavior.

When the night had just blanketed the sky, Abrielle was pacing within her assigned room. It was becoming evident Jacquelyne had truly abandoned a pillar of her life – Abrielle.

She, Jacquelyne, didn't ask for anything, in the end.

But what was the problem? Why? Till date she had never complained! Had Abrielle lost herself? Did Jacquelyne prefer 'Josette'?

...Was she not Josette anymore?

Was that injury worth so much?

She remembered its history well; that was a wound she obtained in the first mission she had partaken with a soul other than her own, little Jacquelyne. And Jacquelyne had triggered a reaction from a guard dog that somehow ended up hurting Abrielle as she tried to move Jacquelyne out of harm's way.

She took a deep breath, trying to reason with herself – it is only for the best that I tended to my face.

Abrielle felt her cheeks, her fingertips were greeted by smooth, silky, and fair skin... the stiches gone, the memories lost, Josette no more.

She was having an identity crisis – right. And maybe a bit of guilt. Normal, nothing to worry about... nothing to worry about, she just had to stay calm.

You've gone and done it!

Abrielle rushed over to a lavatory and splashed water upon herself. She was shaking, feeling as if she were missing something, yearning for the warmth of someone she needed.

It wasn't Jacquelyne who required her.

It was Abrielle who was so very dependent.

Blinded by her own goals and ego, she took things for granted. Their relationship was a business to her, Jacquelyne's trust as interest. But now she was shattered, her reflection was scary... someone else... anyone else but her!

That's not her!

She locked eyes with her image. It felt as if were sneering at her, muttering, 'You've gone and done it!'

And then she saw that again, a flick of fire within her eyeballs...

That dead woman's lips were on her forehead, there Abrielle was simply standing unmoving – stiff – as she tried to understand the situation, and Jacquelyne's image was shifting – shimmering, rather – whilst her eyes glowed.

Mother loves you, she was speaking, that person who Abrielle had buried deep within the earth was speaking, so now Mother will have to punish you.

She wished hard, wished, wished, and wished that it was a future declared null-and-void just as the ones Abrielle observed in Jacqyelyne's pupils were.

Before she knew it, she had punched the wall, her fingers injured and dripping scarlet blood. Panting, she hit the wall again; by then the glass was already broken, and now she wanted to disintegrate the wall for some reason.

"Mademoiselle!" The servants screamed upon hearing the commotion. "Please do not harm yourself!" They restrained her, yelling at her to regain some self-control, but Abrielle was not in the right mind.

She almost tore a girl's hand off, but Jacquelyne stopped her, her hand crushing Abrielle's.

"And now, you're hurting my lady-in-waiting?" she asked, almost threatening Abrielle, her fingernails digging into Abrielle's skin. "Sanity – that you never had, and I do not judge you for it, but has your mindset always been revolving around crime? I never really thought much of it, but I see now! You are a criminal I had sided with! Do you realize you've been staying under my roof? Do you?"

Océane walked in just then, alerted by the other maids, as Abrielle's mouth was blurting out incoherent words. He calmly wrapped an arm around Jacquelyne and cooled her down within moments.

His gaze lingered on Abrielle, but he didn't ask a single question – and simply invited everyone to join him for dinner.

As she walked through the elegant corridors, those maids still holding her onto her, she had a repeated thought: I feel as if I am... as if I am becoming 'someone else'.

She tried to apologize, but her strength gave up on her, and it sounded as if she were barking insults.

She was then forcibly seated and served crème-filled bread.

"Croissant – these are called!" Fleuretta, a maid, said excitedly. Abrielle recalled glancing at her Nom from Jacquelyne's report. "They are very tasty, Mademoiselle!"

The fluffiness didn't betray. Abrielle half-expected her overflowing emotions to get in the way of her tastebuds, but she loved sweet foodstuffs so much that the freshly baked croissant made her weep.

"I—I—I love it—" she sobbed. "I was very—very—very—very, very hungry..."

She needed her assistant back. She loved Jacquelyne so much – regeneration and a simple fight... it surely can't break them apart... she always felt so, that hardening herself, that keeping no place for weaknesses, that building walls around her heart would protect her, but God's so cruel... Jacquelyne's so cruel... she's so cruel herself...

She continuously hiccupped, tears streaming down her face. She wanted to win her back, but before that, another person she needed to thank—

"Fleuretta, thank you!" she screamed aloud. "Teach me how to cook this too! In the kitchen! With the chiefs! And everyone else! I'm going to have a lot of friends and I'll protect all of you!"

"Dear Mademoiselle, you must have been very lonely!" Fleuretta cried out, after a moment of pause. "My poor Mademoiselle! Madame Jacquelyne, would you please forgive our generous Mademoiselle?"

"What's the need of crying...?" Jacquelyne mumbled. "I would've forgiven you if you asked... Abrielle, you know my etiquette teacher tells me not to hold food with hands? She says it's very rude and impolite."

"Ah." The croissant dropped from Abrielle's hands. "Sorry..."

"I just happen to have some melted chocolate here!" Océane cheerfully slid the obviously pre-arranged cup. "So, how about Mademoiselle used her right hand with the medium-sized fork and knife – Fleuretta, would you please guide her there? – and then cut the croissant into tiny pieces with the knife, and then stab it with the fork, thereafter dipping it here and then having a taste?"

"Brother, you try it too!" Jacquelyne encouraged.

"Oh, no, little one. I do not have much tolerance for sugar. And, you two, the food may rot your teeth, so always remember to wash your mouth right after this!"

He was very fussy, as if he were their father or so. But Abrielle appreciated his still-very-suspicious kindness. When she munched into her chocolate croissant, she almost yelled in happiness – being so expressive for the first time in her life, her facial muscles hurt, but as they say, a smile makes all better.

But that wasn't what she was trying to do...

Oh, well, that was a miss, but her next attempt for sure—

"Océane!" she called out, heart pounding. "Thank you too! Also, I wanted to say that, uh, your, your, gentle nature is a bit – well – hazardous because—"

She'd tell him, she'd tell him, she'd tell him, she'd tell him, she'd tell him, she'd tell him, she'd tell him, she'd tell him, she'd tell him, she'd tell him, she'd tell him—

It could kill you, she just needed to utter, it could turn you into a broken skull stacked upon bones!

Then Jacquelyne's curious eyes fell upon her, awaiting Abrielle's words.

...In her presence, how could she ever bring up the topic of death...? Just when they had escaped, when she had finally found a loving soul, how could Abrielle ever...?

"—people are scum," she said, her mouth tasting bitter, her emotions truly getting the best of her. She cared for Océane too, after all. "They could betray you..."

The reply never reached her ear, disappointment engulfing her. That night of a lost opportunity melted away, and she never even felt a thing.

In the end, alas, she couldn't do it.

She couldn't do it, she couldn't do it, she couldn't do it, she couldn't do it, she couldn't do it, she couldn't do it, she couldn't do it, she couldn't do it, she couldn't do it, she couldn't do it—

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= 1945 words

(we reached 10K words, finally!)

A/N: Is Océane still suspicious (doesn't seem like plot is going to protect him, though)? And what do you think of the character development? Also, guess what 'scars' (the title) mean in the chapter's context!

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