Do you know what is particularly humbling? Not being able to lift your head.

Being a baby was tiring. I think I used my sliver of clarity meeting in the drawing room yesterday because I can’t seem to focus much without fatigue overcoming me. My arms and legs felt like jelly, being picked and wiped down for various reasons was worse with the fact that my head was so big.

I’ve been biased towards babies after having one. Maybe it’s because my Elise was cute, even had no hair or teeth. I was so wrinkly. Even lying on a soft cushion, one glimpse at my hand depresses me.

I wasn’t a beauty in my last life per se but going back to being a baby that shit’s its diaper is frankly traumatic.

“She looks like a little raisin,” A voice comments, and I can hear the smirk in it that follows.

If I wasn’t so sleepy, I’d glare.

“Phillipe!” Ah, it’s the Duchess. “That's hardly an appropriate thing to say to your baby sister." 

“She’s not my sister, " Philippe replies, “You found her in the city, Mère. She’s more like… charity case. No malice behind his words. It's not like he was wrong, I am a bastard and an orphan. I probably won't be here past my first birthday. 

“It doesn’t mean you can be cruel.”

“I’m not being cruel,” The young man mutters, “I’m only telling the truth. She’s still wrinkly.” All newborns are born wrinkly–even my Elise. “Hnngh!” oh, that’s right, I’m only able to squeak coo in response.

“Oh, look,” a second voice–Suha, cooed, “She’s so cute when she’s trying to defend herself.”

“Don’t encourage him, Suha.” The duchess sighs. At this point, she’ll turn grey early.

I feel my small body being lifted again–going through the motions of being dressed in something frilly and soft. The fabric felt light and smelled of lavender.

When she’s done, Suha smiles and holds me a mirror. “Look! See how cute you are! Look like a proper little lady.”

I was dressed in a frilly pink nightdress and a bonnet with bunny ears attached and my short wisps of hair sticking out from underneath.

 “Nnn!” I was still but she was right, it was cute!

“Raisin looks like a wrinkly little doll.” Phillipe replies. Raisin? Is that going to be my name from now on?

“She is a doll. And stop calling her Raisin. She’s…”

I yawn.

I’m too tired to think right now. Everyone’s voices seem to melt together. Everything dulls into a strange, drowsy calm. My eyelids grow heavier and heavier with each second. Being a baby is so tiresome. Even though I’m trying to stay awake, I feel myself slipping deeper and deeper into a–

Dream.