@cha3yul
it's not becoming of a young royal to seat oneself on the ground. fortunately, chaehyun doesn't make a habit of visiting the palace gardens when they're populated by potential witnesses - at least, not anymore. it's almost always under the cover of night, the aptly named hour of ghosts when they're likely to be the ones keeping her company after nightmares rip her violently from her sleep. it's only when catching glimpses of the turtle ducks, a sight that used to warm her heart and nearly overwhelm her with fondness, that distant echoes stir within her of her former unbridled joy and wonder for the world, her shine that has worn off and now lies utterly dormant.
dormant, but not dead. splintered, but not shattered. such are the sentiments woven into every platitude she's offered, hollow as they may ring when they fall from the lips from those who haven't even a faint chance of understanding the grief that consumes her day by day. with a hope that drearily dwindles but, as of yet, has not been quite extinguished, she tries with all of (what's left of) her heart to believe them.
before he's within her field of vision, she senses his approach. it beckons a ghost of a laugh from the depths of her chest, devoid of mirth. she might have known he'd find her here, sooner or later.
"awfully late for prince chaeyul to be out and about." her gaze remains fixed on the placid waters of the pond, the tranquility she so deeply covets, as though the sight may even slightly quell the roaring inferno under her surface. "to what do i owe the pleasure?"
