Asch

They are echoes of their lineage, little flasks of purpose and potential that parade around mimicking the future they will soon grasp tight in their hold. They are oblivious to their own importance, naivety and innocence allowing them these days of wonderment and play. Asch is blind to the gap in their importance, to the blood that runs in his veins and makes him a more viable King than any notions of royalty she holds for herself. Instead, she allows herself to be deluded, to think that she is worthy of his friendship and companionship. Even the partially godlike Aithniel would soon reveal herself to be of too much power and beauty for Asch to continue to desire to befriend her. However, pawing and prancing about on the marble flooring, she is serenely happy stuck in the moment. There is no awareness of her future, of the fact that she is surely to be deserted as her peers rise to the greatness they deserve.

Instead, she spins tales, her imagination flooding out possibilities that she uses in an attempt to entice and enamor Erebos to her. His laughter is her payment, and she brightens like the sun is shining through the gold of her skin to hear his joviality. She has succeeded, and for that she is contented. In time she will come to understand that pleasing others is no way to live life, that she must look out for herself first and foremost, but as a child clothed in her mother's robes of grandeur she is desperate to make friends with this little death chaser. The gleam of his scythe is entrancing, and she wants to bask with him in the glow of their collected brilliance.

Hooves paw at the smooth earth in challenge, and though he is taller than she, the little golden princess lifts her crown in a daring challenge. Amusement glitters like lost stars in her eyes, and he rises to demand of her the throne she has rightfully claimed for herself. He dances away from her playful hooves, and she drops to the earth with a spring in her step, knees high and shaking her mane like a proud lion. Tempting him, demanding he meet her step for step. Erebos does so and more, throwing himself to the challenge with a haughty rise of his frame. Asch is not intimidated, for these are age old tunes to which they dance, learning what battle will teach them in years to come. Testing out on one another their abilities.

A snort flies from her paper thin nares with the contempt of a queen far beyond her own measly years. "Do your worst, Sir Blackguard! For you will fall, and I shall build an empire of your bones!" They are macabre and degenerate beings, playing in fantasies of blood and ruin. Unfitting their ages, their meaning in the world. Neither seem to care. Asch lunged for him with a duck of her head, horns meant for battering rather than spearing as she gives her best war cry. Her past is already sullied, she has fought for her life and her sister's as well. But this is make believe, and because of that she is allowed the pleased curl of her lips. If only he knew how parallel their little scenario ran to her dark past.

all those years never feeling pretty