PeaceMaker

It was a very big crowd, even more, Mr. Crowly and her husband walking closely beside her. She was worried, she always was, but was especially worried in an event like this. 

Her eyes looked over the crowd, hoping to spot the top of her daughter's heads, maybe a glimmer of their jewelry or even a swish of their dresses. It was useless, she wasn't going to spot them in this dense hurricane of people unless she had the eyes of an eagle and in that, she didn't.

She looked away from the crowd, forced into her current situation. One that she didn't like. It wasn't the fact that she was at this event but whom she was at the event with and the fact that she hadn't managed to get rid of him this entire time. Who was she talking about? Her husband of course.

The one that was so closely knitted to her side. Unnecessarily and unwantedly knitted to her side. 

It was no mistake, she wanted him to leave. Immediately. Vamoose to the other side of the hall where she couldn't see his face, or transport to the ballroom and not meet up with her when she got there. She didn't want to see him, didn't want to be near him, and most definitely didn't want to engage in a conversation with him. All of her don't wants were also something that her husband seemed bent to accomplish. 

It just made him all the more infuriating. Even more, since she knew he knew she didn't want to be near him at all. He simply wouldn't get it through his thick arrogant skull.

"Hun, you haven't looked at me most of this event and even if you did, the glances were short and filled with detachment," Mr. Crowly prodded. This was his 6th attempt that day, no, simply during this event, that he had tried to find out what was on her mind. 

She didn't reply. Like she didn't at every other attempt he had made. 

"Is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong that I didn't realize-" Mr. Crowly asked, stopping his speech and pace when he realized it was a foolish question. 

He noticed that the moment he stopped walking, her steps quickened, like a painfully apparent attempt to get away from him as quickly as she could. 

He was going to pursue her, to stick his head in her hair again and bombard her with unanswered questions when his feet refused to move. 

There was something in her stride, something so clear that it hurt for him to watch from afar. Something he couldn't remove and would only grow more obvious with every unanswered question he made. 

She didn't want to be near him, not now, not ever. She hated the fact that he was next to her and had tried her very hardest to crawl far away from him. So far that he couldn't reach her no matter how hard he tried. 

It wasn't just distancing physically, but also distance mentally. 

Something was telling him that he needed to stop, that this wasn't the worst of it, and that the worst of it was very near if he continued to persist. 

He watched her sink into the crowd, his heart throbbing harder as he watched her figure melt into the crowd and even more when he saw her head lower, like she was trying even harder to melt into the crowd. It hurt, it stung. 

Not just his heart, but also the tears that were forming in his eyes. 

He waited until she was further in the crowd before beginning his own walk. His head hung low, watching his feet as his body was limply tossed and dragged into the crowd towards the ballroom. 

He didn't feel like going anymore but he also didn't have enough strength in his legs to pull himself out of the crowd. 

He was confused, hurt, and even more confused. He could feel the large steel walls forming between his wife and him and knew very well that it wouldn't be long before she became a wife in name only. 

When that happened, his reason to live might as well diminish to dust because that's how bleak his life would become. 

He was so curious. 'Why was she like this?' he thought to himself, 'why is she running from me? What is with this distance? What did I do wrong?' Questions filled his mind like a tub being slowly filled with soap water. 

He sat at the bottom of that tub as the water covered his body and buried him under cold water that stunk his open eyes. 

There was something so wrong with what was going on. Both the fact that there was something going on and the fact that he didn't know what was going on was disgraceful facts that he had come to accept. The fact that such a perfect family as theirs, a family loved by nobles of all levels, a family with riches that could last two lifetimes, a family that boasted how closely knitted they were to each other, was falling apart thread by thread, each piece being meticulously pulled out by the family members themselves. 

And him? The man of the house, the one that was supposed to lead them with pride and protect them from all wrongs, him, the man blessed with a title from the king himself, him a man whose children were treasures of the kingdom. Him, a man that watched his family fall to pieces and couldn't even raise a finger to stop it all. 

How disgraceful and demeaning for a man to call himself a man but then be unable to take care of his family and those that he loved with all the fame and riches he had. 

It wasn't the first time he had lost control but rather a continuation of him losing control. He had lost the reins of his family and just barely was able to hold the reins of their fake image. 

He chuckled lightly. Who was he kidding? He wasn't holding the reins. They were keeping it together by their own will, just like how they brought down the family by their own will. 

Nothing was by his power anymore and even when he claimed each of his children as his in front of the king, they didn't feel like his. They were their own kids. An apple that fell far away from its tree, tumbled down separate hills and went to places they chose to go to. 

How pitiful he was. How sad he was. How unworthy of a man he was. 

Still, as helpless as he was feeling, he was feeling hopeful, his useless pride that put him in this position, to begin with, fought to keep him afloat, fought to make sure he still tried his hardest to try what he could. 

He looked up at the crowd, his wife was long gone. He closed his eyes and left himself carried by the waves. 

He was only taking a strategic setback. That was all this was. 

His body drifted in the crowd for a moment, bumping into a figure behind him.

"Marquess Crowly?" the voice called out, a familiar one at that. 

He flinched, his eyes flying open as his head turned to see who was beside him. 

"What a loose walk you have there, Marquess Crowly," joked Cryst Roman. Her eyes eyed him up and down. "Are you ok?"

Mr. Crowly stared at her for a moment, his recognition system being delayed by the questions that were still drowning him in his mind. He blinked when he realized who she was and immediately took a bow. 

"Arch-duchess?" Mr. Crowly muttered for a moment before taking a deep bow, his body moving to the side a bit as a body walked past him.

Cryst watched his stumble for a moment, amusement passed on her face as she watched him stand back up correctly. Her eyes glowing like she was staring at a piece of distracted entertainment. A slight smile passed her face. This was going to be interesting. 

"What an unstable step you have there, Lord Mannerism," Cryst cocked her head to the side, eying him from top to bottom. "If I am not mistaken," her eyes reached his, light hazel gaze piercing into his, "it seems like there's something on your mind."

Mr. Crowley flinched, looking away from her gaze. 

"What makes you think that?" He asked nervously. 

Cryst chuckled. "Well clearly your unstabled stepping, you look like you're lying on the crowd alone to main your steps," she smiled, "Lord can imagine what predicament you would be in right now if you got swept out of the halls completely and into the hallway and in your detached stance, got locked out of the event completely."

Mr. Crowly chuckled lightly, his laughter wavering in the slightest. "Wouldn't that be amusing?"

"In every way it would," Cryst nodded her head honestly. 

Mr. Crowly smiled and nodded towards the crowd, "Should we get a move on then, before that predicament becomes ever more true?"

Cryst nodded her head. "Of course, after you."

Mr. Crowly looked at the crowd before turning back to her again, "Nono, after you."

Cryst cocked her head slightly and raised her eyebrow and before he even knew it, he was walking in the crowd.. She chuckled as she followed behind him. "Mind to tell me what is on your mind, Lord Mannerism?"