09-27-2015, 10:58 PM
No one missed her.
Yet, here she is.
She knows someone might want to see her. A son she perhaps always should have had but unfortunately because of faulty genetics, never got her wish. Instead she was given a mute, and a dramatic princess.
The mute was better than the princess. At least he hadn’t impregnated half of the Valley and then vanished without a trace.
How ironic.
Her ghostly body emerges through the snow and trees like a haunting queen. Unfortunately, the kingdom of Bachelors wouldn’t respect her like a fallen tribute. No, she was a female. And therefore, she was irrelevant.
And to add, intruding.
When had Kindling ever truly respected borders though. Not the day in the Deserts, not the day in the Falls so long ago when she worked for the Chamber like a dog. Not even as a queen in the Valley when her reputation needed to be pristine.
She smelt him like a hound, her body instantly drawn to his presence. Tarnished, a boy—man—who was so similar to her. So alike in such twisted ways, it was appealing. She liked him. Not in the Osric like, or Oxytocin like. No, she enjoyed him as a friend. A brother.
She hardly knew him, yet she knew all she had to.
Her pace slows as she nears his body, “hello, Nish.” Is what floats off her tongue in a gritty “I haven’t spoken in years” sort of way. Even with her faint rasp, she still sounded hauntingly elegant. A gift that would forever be passed on to younger females. A trait that would always be hers, and her daughters, and her grand-daughters.
They were born to be classy, with personalities meant to be killers.
“You haven’t been keeping an eye on my generations,” is what she says with a condescending, teasing tone. As if Tarnish’s job had been to babysit while she was away. A joke, of course. Though the bitterness of her daughters still could out shine any joke.
“Better you stayed away from them anyways, poisoning themselves they are. But how are you?”
Yet, here she is.
She knows someone might want to see her. A son she perhaps always should have had but unfortunately because of faulty genetics, never got her wish. Instead she was given a mute, and a dramatic princess.
The mute was better than the princess. At least he hadn’t impregnated half of the Valley and then vanished without a trace.
How ironic.
Her ghostly body emerges through the snow and trees like a haunting queen. Unfortunately, the kingdom of Bachelors wouldn’t respect her like a fallen tribute. No, she was a female. And therefore, she was irrelevant.
And to add, intruding.
When had Kindling ever truly respected borders though. Not the day in the Deserts, not the day in the Falls so long ago when she worked for the Chamber like a dog. Not even as a queen in the Valley when her reputation needed to be pristine.
She smelt him like a hound, her body instantly drawn to his presence. Tarnished, a boy—man—who was so similar to her. So alike in such twisted ways, it was appealing. She liked him. Not in the Osric like, or Oxytocin like. No, she enjoyed him as a friend. A brother.
She hardly knew him, yet she knew all she had to.
Her pace slows as she nears his body, “hello, Nish.” Is what floats off her tongue in a gritty “I haven’t spoken in years” sort of way. Even with her faint rasp, she still sounded hauntingly elegant. A gift that would forever be passed on to younger females. A trait that would always be hers, and her daughters, and her grand-daughters.
They were born to be classy, with personalities meant to be killers.
“You haven’t been keeping an eye on my generations,” is what she says with a condescending, teasing tone. As if Tarnish’s job had been to babysit while she was away. A joke, of course. Though the bitterness of her daughters still could out shine any joke.
“Better you stayed away from them anyways, poisoning themselves they are. But how are you?”
![[Image: HFqRV2Q.png]](https://i.imgur.com/HFqRV2Q.png)