lowkey glad the allegations are false.
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The Hoodmaster's beloved daughter stood right before them; her golden, silky fabrics shimmering in the sunlight like God's assumed robes. She was a sleeveless, cream-colored hoodie with bedazzled sleeves and sunglasses. You would be able to pick her out of a crowd like it was the Unspoken in the Hoodmaster's Church.
He personally felt it was a bit over-the-top for a village of Hood. Then again, this was of course the daughter of the most important man in the Hood's time, right infront of them.
Proposing.
They were too young to even think of a remotely serious relationship, at least in his own eyes. A twenty-two year old man, named Kwite of all things, getting offered a lifetime of treasures and the role of an emperor. Anyone else would've accepted without hesitation.
He of course had to be different.
They're the protagonist.
Idiot.
"Well?" She spoke, her sunglasses looking up to meet his shades.
He didn't want to. They shouldn't, they couldn't. Despite knowing damn well that he would be killed if he declined, they answered the shimmering Hood quietly and confidently.
"No."
Kwite began to feel beads of sweat run down their vacant forehead. He felt the eyes of the entire crowd quickly turn to them, like they were the Hoodmaster himself. He wanted to sink deep into their own fabrics and never return to meet the shades of others, and simply stay there forever.
"No?" the mistress repeated quietly, her sunglasses curving downward as her voice became hoarse. "No what?"
They sighed, "I don't want to marry you."
"TRAITOR, TRAITOR I TELL YOU!" Suddenly screamed one of the townsfolk. Another one shouted in agreement, and soon enough the entire crowd to his left was angrily cursing him out, raising their fists.
Their entire town were angrily bashing them.
The Hoodmaster's daughter began to stand, taking the sleeve she once offered him and pulling it away with her arm. As she did so, Kwite swore they heard her whimpering, as if she'd cry.
His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, combined with guilt and a wanting to sob himself. They never expected a supposed goddess to kneel down and offer them their very own Sleeve of Gold, he thought that role would go to a mightier Hood, one with his own torn sleeves and bloodied muscles; a hero worth the title of a protector.
The mistress tightened her grip on the sleeve, running away, her caped dress flowing gently in the breeze of dawn. Of course, they'd not only managed to piss of his entire town, but ALSO the goddess and overseer of practically everything he's ever known.
That was the biggest mistake of their very life.
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