When silence falls does no one care?

When you are part of a colonized or sub-colonized people, you are born early on into knowing what the world thinks about you. Your culture, the acts of violence done by others onto your peoples. This is also means stuff gets stolen. Colonialism exists to take resources to benefit the country enacting this violence, they horde territories without giving them a say, this is a part of imperialism. Resources can't just be limited to raw material, it can be people (slavery), it can be a culture, and it can be art. It can be historical/religious/cultural objects with great meaning. Colonized people from a young age even with the limited mental capacity that all children have are aware that their shit, their land, their people, their culture, and their resources and not their and theirs alone when there is a colonial power in the mix. "Why do I and people who look like me get bullied for being this way," "Why don't I ever see my features on TV," "Why is it okay for others to make fun of my culture but when I do the same I'm scolded."[¹]

Briarland is a Kingdom that has been colonized and downsized to a small area called Briar Valley[²]. Mines once full of mystium and magestones were depleted and distributed to everyone but the night fae[³]. So why would it be that surprising to Malleus and Lilia that another thing, another historical and cultural relic would wound up in the hands of private prestigious college. Malleus and Lilia most likely knew it was taken as a spoil of war, just because we as the player don't see them mull over this thought doesn't mean that it didn't happen. Lilia was there during the war, and Malleus was raised by his grandmother who most likely placed a high importance about learning the history of Briar Valley. They knew the Princess Glow was stolen and taken by the Silver Owls, they just couldn't trace exactly where it went. Even if they could it's not like they could get it back by any legal means. (Do you see how hard the British Museum and others like it hold onto relics that were taken illegally or with dubious consent at best?[⁴])

So how did the Princess Glow fall upon the hands of RSA? The aristocrats of modern day society who own said private collections in their personal manor are also the types to send their children to private prestigious schools. Think about the demographic of those who attend NRC: princes, celebrities, children of successful business owners. We only have one student at NRC (Ruggie) who is confirmed to have been lower class who was a laborer, and one student who has a family that owns and works on a farm which used to not be as profitable (Epel). Say one modern day collector aristocrat sent their kid to RSA, not dissimilar to how Kalim's parents endowed fortunes upon NRC, and gave RSA the Princess Glow as a token of "goodwill." It's not preposterous that this would happen, it's not unreasonable, unlikely, or "bad writing" that it did. This is what happens in the real world to colonized peoples.

(1.) CNN. (2010, May 18). Study shows how children view race bias. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQACkg5i4AY

(2.) raven-at-the-writing-desk. (2023, June 28). briar valley worms time. Tumblr. https://www.tumblr.com/raven-at-the-writing-desk/721398222841675776/briar-valley-brain-worms-time?source=share

(3.) Contributors to Twisted Wonderland Wiki. (2026). Book 7/chapter 16. Fandom, Inc. Twisted Wonderland Wiki. https://twisted-wonderland.fandom.com/wiki/Book_7/Chapter_16

Before their (forced) enrollment at NRC, Yuuzu did not leave their house much. A series of unfortunate circumstances and a past they rather keep buried was unearthed. Rather than dealing with it, dealing with people, dealing with his sister, they ran. Retreated as far into the crevices of her mind to try and find some mythical thing known as peace. Numbness was all that greeted Yuuzu in their isolation. It was late at night, they craved a drink, why not pick it up? It wasn’t far, a couple of paces around the neighborhood down that one street. The walking could be good, Yuuzu felt their muscles atrophying slowly. They really needed to get out more. And that’s when the carriage had approached them. Their phone, wallet, and a bottle of yuzu ramune is all they had with them when they woke up.

It was a morning like no other, you were accompanying your self-proclaimed friends on their conquest to procure a meal. Some would even say you were recruited, as many students parted upon feeling your touch of death, making it easier for the troublemakers to grab what they wished for. Everyone now sat down, either enjoying or about to enjoy their meal when a small but shifty figure approached. Sandy hair, angular short ears, and a grin you had generally come to familiarize yourself with that meant trouble. Seeing your form there was the slightest moment of hesitation from the boy, but he saw your gaze. The gaze of a deep tiredness that extends beyond physical, he was all too knowledgeable on that look, so he pressed forth. It didn't concern you when the boy swindled Grim, but the way in which you felt like he knew something about yourself that you didn't, it was mildly irritating. Some would even say unnerving in its over familiarity.

Eventually you learned his name was Ruggie, how he had the spirit of a conniving urchin mixed with a heart of gold. How he gave, and gave and gave and gave. How even though his efforts might not have been fully reciprocated by his dorm mates, how he was often brushed off with a laugh, scoff, or then some, he still remained ever so himself. He still cherished his roots, the community that collectively raised him. How after the two of you became close he’d save a portion of food you mention liking, though most likely it was out of his own unconsciousness habits than anything else. You could never really eat anything brought, but the thought and effort was still appreciated all the same. Of course the mischievous hyena was never above taking from those more fortunate than him, of course he was still willing to bend or break rules if it fit his needs or interests. He didn’t change, his character was still the same as it was, you were just granted the opportunity to inspect him closer.

Jack was another individual you had happened to meet, the stoic boy who initially had no interest in getting to know anyone of your entourage. It was refreshing to have someone that was just as uninterested in you as you were in them, or at least that how it seemed at the moment. You’d soon come to know that the muscle-head was of a most aggravating type, the type that laid claim to apathy when they were anything but. Of course at the information of his idol being the culprit of the most recent ‘mysterious’ incidents he became a reluctant ally in your investigations. He treated you with dignity, something that was rather uncommon at this school. He didn’t stare at the gnarled limbs beneath you— at least he tried his very best too. Nor did he prolongedly stare at the scars of what had to have been horse hoofs. He, despite saying he supposedly didn’t care about anyone, would bark back at his dorm mates crude remarks and awful sneers. He was the first person to offer subtle words of encouragement when you couldn’t hold back tears anymore at the onslaught of constant judging eyes. His care felt at patronizing, but there was an acceptance in him that only you knew your current circumstance, and only you could proper learn to manage it.

Then there was the head honcho himself, Leona. The lion’s pride was aggravating, how could he sit there and smirk at your attempts when he was no better. He had given up on the notion of hard work to achieve his own goals, why did he scoff at you for not having anything to aspire to? Isn’t he supposed to be the one person who understands this? You at least had the gall do something with your non-life, to help others however reluctantly where you could. He was flesh, living, breathing, circulating, thinking, feeling. Heart, lungs, nerves, liver, skin, he had all of it yet refused to do anything above the bare minimum. His presence made you want to take every limb you owned and slowly twist until you couldn’t feel anything anymore. To lose all what little sense remained. The investigation group had formed a plan to confront him, good. You tagged along as a witness, it’s not as if he could hurt you. It’s not as if anyone could truly harm your body any more than it had already been. The thought scared you a bit, you scared yourself.

Unsurprisingly the provocations spoken by the fae known as Lilia hit the bullseye of insecurity. A thick inky energy and the swirling of sand enveloped the bitter lion, funneling his magic into hate. Destruction and hate, hate and destruction. More than any of that, or perhaps the cause of all of it, resentment. He was so very tired, so very cynical, he would never be able to rise above his station. Never be able to crush the bars that held him up and yet crushed him. All of this was so very obvious to you, how could it not have been? Two faces on the same damned coin, the thought spun as chaos unfurled further. Bursts of various colored magic shooting from here to there and back, fire, sand, ink, ice. The hyena clutched his raw shoulder in pain, blood seeping through his fingers smiling almost deranged as he set forth more magic. Riddle clenched his teeth, aggravated that his unique magic was so easily thwarted. The rest of the Heartslabyul dorm soon easily falling into a synchronized battalion. You stood there. Frozen. Calm in a storm, at least physically, your mind was anything but. Leona roared one last time as he collapsed, and you could feel in your soul that of so familiar bitterness. 

You disappeared as Leona’s unconsciousness absorbed you, and felt that familiar feeling of humanity wash over you. Again? Again! Memories traced over your form like angels bringing back your senses. Textures, smells, all of it fully, not just some half broken meter of feeling. You lingered for just a little longer after his internal life narration had ended, it couldn’t have been easy. Couldn’t have been fair no matter how “unruly” Leona was, he was a child who just craved an ounce of recognition. Pity, you didn’t want that emotion to bubble up but it was so easy for the useless emotion to when you knew. It wasn’t fair, you knew it wasn’t fair. Your own emotions started to magnify, and subsequently and harshly pushed out. The forcefulness of the ejection from his mind caused you to tumble backwards, your form sinking into the ground slowly. Green eyes blinked once, adjusting back to reality before turning to glare at you. Or at least you had the feeling that other people would interpret his gaze that way, you took it as a silent plea. ‘Don’t mention that to anyone’ he seemed to be asking.

Things had changed after that moment, Leona had changed towards you. He wasn’t rude, never to you, but there was a caution. A calculation in the way his eyes bore into your own, a longer pause after you spoke and a more enlightened reply than just a single syllable. He had underestimated you once, look where that had got him. But as time wore on, he seemed to allow himself relaxation in your presence. Not quite yet a softening, perhaps never a full softening as his intellect would only be sharper in playful light by the flames of romance. A simple nod when you passed or the small unspoken permission for your lingering that was given, all signs of his recognition of you. On one particular afternoon you had fiddled with some weeds in the grass, twirling whirling and swirling it around your finger tips. It was a good day, a day when the pain felt a bit more bearable and your form was corporal enough to where it could be held. The hypnotic motion had your eyelids flutter closer and closer, until they shut completely. Sleep in the golden afternoon became a nap that lasted till early evening. Eventually waking up you felt under you something warm, something comparably soft, and a hand rested around your shoulder. The lion let out a little huff of amusement as you quickly sat up. A flicker, you excused yourself and swished off as fast as you could.

Jack had learned, especially after Leona’s overblot, that you were no domesticated cactus, nor were you a child like those of his siblings he had to protect. Despite your appearance, the pain, you were capable and willful, so much more willful that he had thought to give you credit for. Still, a small observation by Ruggie had wormed its way into his brain, filling it with worry.

“Doesn’t the Prefect look a little off?”

You had, he couldn’t quite place it exactly but the mangled mess of your legs looked wrong. More wrong than it had originally. Drippy, viscous, perhaps even a pitch black in some spots. A vague small scent of death could be traced if either of them tried hard enough. Still, you were undead, it couldn’t have been too unusual for the scent of death to cling to you. Surely…