Asch

They are pawns playing across a chessboard they don't understand. Blood has warped their usefulness, fate stringing them across a loom of pre-determined patterns. Summer children in snowy wonderlands, scorned and searched with wary languages and doubtful gazes. They are the cinders, and yet everyone is willing to turn them into tinder for their own uses. Only in solitude can they find the scattered gems of individuality at their core. Staring down from her minor perch to the king in waiting, painted in the colors of his father and cast in the shadow of their ruler's worth, the golden babe contemplated whether or not she was worth the hours he could potentially waste on her. A servant and a soldier, a maid and a ruler. His roguish grin is the growing version that will soon sweep unsuspecting damsels off their heels and force the puff of breasts from intimidated foes. A challenge, a spark that is more than capable of catching, causing damage.

But beneath the demure smile curling her cocoa lips, she maybe, perhaps, impossibly, is not that helpless servant to his anticipated greatness.

Dark lips form the syllable of her name, a surprise. She is a watcher, an observer. His name is written into the scripture of her mind regardless of their time together. Something Asch is aware not many others care to do, knowing she is but a gossamer ghost in the vibrancy of their more important lives. His recollection gives her the small warmth of recognition and importance in the belly of her soul, smile turning to reflect the temperature he has suddenly imposed upon her. It beckons him, but he sways away from her, deviant even to his own ages. Asch does nothing to force him to her side, for she is not the type to startle her prey simply because they do not waltze directly into her snare. It is still set, still functional, after all.

Spun gold hooves click melodically upon the swirling colors, dancing playfully away as dust is stirred up toward her from the exhalation of her sudden companion. Shifting hazels mirrored the expanse of colors surrounding her, shades as temperamental as a summer storm. Elusive, dangerous at times, but breathtaking all the same. She liked to think that as a whole she was the same, not merely reduced to the flitting of her irises. His gaze finds them, and she holds them fearlessly, even as her petite form traverses the milky expanse of the floor. A dancer on her stage, he her captive audience. Flawless in her unchoreographed dance. It's a simplistic answer, one that could be easily answered with an admittance of lack of knowledge. But she spins a tale instead. A spider to the fly.

"Maybe the Gods constructed it after the wraiths, adding the colors to bring more hope for future generations. Or maybe it sprung from the spilled blood of those who didn't make it, hardening into stone as testament to their sacrifices." She exaggerates it beautifully, letting her tone go wistful and awed, perhaps a tad fearful. Gemstone eyes glittering with the secret amusement that betrays her act. In a slow twist she turns, dropping her delicate crown to eye him at a closer level, vixen smile twisting her lips. "Or maybe, it is mine. I am queen and you must be banished from my beautiful structure." Haughty toss of her head brings it high, mane awash in shades of silver and gold as it falls across her shoulders like the royalty she joked of being. Flairs her forelegs towards Erebos with a forward dance of her hindquarters, a mock rear as if to chase him from her throne.

all those years never feeling pretty