KirahAnnaveya IV -- A Late Arrival
The eve had drawn to abysmal darkness by the time she had arrived late to the castle. A darkness closely aligned with her state of mind, though she would never betray such. In front of her sat two handmaidens, trembling in fear, jumping with ceaseless anxiety with every imperfection in the cobblestone road. So instead succumbing to her anger, she remained stoic, enigmatic, as calm as the lakes she cherished from her home. As perfectly still as a pond in a crisp, cool morning, the Princess remained as such with her eyes closed until at long last, they arrived with a jarring halt in front of the stairways that lead to the depths of the ominous fortress.
The door swung wide open by the horsemaster of the carriage, and outward came the maidens first, bowing deeply as from it stepped an ethereal beauty so exquisite, that it seemed to be mythical. She did not walk, as she seemed to glide smoothly up the long staircase. With a dress of seemingly liquid ivory, she shone like a beacon of light amongst the darkness. Against the torchlight, flecks of deep crimson could be seen about the concisely fit gown, a color that announced who she was.
Gemmenite Royalty.
Hungrily, eyes of the guards would wander across the flawless curve of porcelain skin that was her neck, yet with effortless grace she paid no heed to them. In her mind, she was above the token savagery of these monsters, and never would she give them any chance to see her fear or woes. Instead, she slung the long braid of luxurious chestnut hair over her shoulder, and into the main quarter she strode, with her maidens holding the long hem of her dress upward so that it wouldn't touch the earth.
Into the chamber for the second round of choosing she came, and the scene before her was bleak. Accomplished as an elemental of Water was she, so she moved swiftly to one of her people who bore a miserable burn. Likely by the hand of those who oppressed her. Silently, she seemed to simply glide between the two, and she knelt before the girl. Never before had royalty been taken, never before however, had those of noble blood even come close to touching their people.
Yet even in spite of such rigorous tradition, the Princess spoke. Each quiet word she uttered out of her rosy lips seemed as warm and invigorating as she was regal. "Please, hold still. I can cure what ails you." She began at first, as her hand began to glower with a faint azure hue.
Gently, carefully, her slender fongertips would reach forward and touch the horrific burn that had scalded the girl's skin. Water flowed from her hand, luminous and flickering in the torchlight, the cooling liquid spread rapidly across the wound. Before the eyes of all, the magic she infused unto the water began to soothe and rapidly heal the injury. It took but only a minute, but soon before long, the wound was completely regenerated with no scarring to boot.
Once the magic had faded, Anna rose smoothly, dusting off the grime from her dress as she offered her subject her hand in order to help her stand.
When the girl finally stood, Anna offered her a reassuring smile in spite of all the horror that had happened. "Be strong," the Princess began, as word quickly began to murmur about as the Drakken quickly realized who she was. "And do not fear them. They, as mortals are just as flawed as we. Yet your sacrifice tonight be not in vain."
She bent forward slightly then, taking the girl's hand and gently kissing it with her perfect lips. "I as both of noble blood, and now kin with you in our sacrifice thank you for what we are about to give. But do not fear, do not give up, and hold your head high. I thank you, and all our sisters here, on part of both the royal family, and our people."
Her eloquent tongue faded then, as she turned to face the mass of Draken with a smile that bespoke of naught but confidence. There she stood in defiance against the darkness.
And she waited.
The eve had drawn to abysmal darkness by the time she had arrived late to the castle. A darkness closely aligned with her state of mind, though she would never betray such. In front of her sat two handmaidens, trembling in fear, jumping with ceaseless anxiety with every imperfection in the cobblestone road. So instead succumbing to her anger, she remained stoic, enigmatic, as calm as the lakes she cherished from her home. As perfectly still as a pond in a crisp, cool morning, the Princess remained as such with her eyes closed until at long last, they arrived with a jarring halt in front of the stairways that lead to the depths of the ominous fortress.
The door swung wide open by the horsemaster of the carriage, and outward came the maidens first, bowing deeply as from it stepped an ethereal beauty so exquisite, that it seemed to be mythical. She did not walk, as she seemed to glide smoothly up the long staircase. With a dress of seemingly liquid ivory, she shone like a beacon of light amongst the darkness. Against the torchlight, flecks of deep crimson could be seen about the concisely fit gown, a color that announced who she was.
Gemmenite Royalty.
Hungrily, eyes of the guards would wander across the flawless curve of porcelain skin that was her neck, yet with effortless grace she paid no heed to them. In her mind, she was above the token savagery of these monsters, and never would she give them any chance to see her fear or woes. Instead, she slung the long braid of luxurious chestnut hair over her shoulder, and into the main quarter she strode, with her maidens holding the long hem of her dress upward so that it wouldn't touch the earth.
Into the chamber for the second round of choosing she came, and the scene before her was bleak. Accomplished as an elemental of Water was she, so she moved swiftly to one of her people who bore a miserable burn. Likely by the hand of those who oppressed her. Silently, she seemed to simply glide between the two, and she knelt before the girl. Never before had royalty been taken, never before however, had those of noble blood even come close to touching their people.
Yet even in spite of such rigorous tradition, the Princess spoke. Each quiet word she uttered out of her rosy lips seemed as warm and invigorating as she was regal. "Please, hold still. I can cure what ails you." She began at first, as her hand began to glower with a faint azure hue.
Gently, carefully, her slender fongertips would reach forward and touch the horrific burn that had scalded the girl's skin. Water flowed from her hand, luminous and flickering in the torchlight, the cooling liquid spread rapidly across the wound. Before the eyes of all, the magic she infused unto the water began to soothe and rapidly heal the injury. It took but only a minute, but soon before long, the wound was completely regenerated with no scarring to boot.
Once the magic had faded, Anna rose smoothly, dusting off the grime from her dress as she offered her subject her hand in order to help her stand.
When the girl finally stood, Anna offered her a reassuring smile in spite of all the horror that had happened. "Be strong," the Princess began, as word quickly began to murmur about as the Drakken quickly realized who she was. "And do not fear them. They, as mortals are just as flawed as we. Yet your sacrifice tonight be not in vain."
She bent forward slightly then, taking the girl's hand and gently kissing it with her perfect lips. "I as both of noble blood, and now kin with you in our sacrifice thank you for what we are about to give. But do not fear, do not give up, and hold your head high. I thank you, and all our sisters here, on part of both the royal family, and our people."
Her eloquent tongue faded then, as she turned to face the mass of Draken with a smile that bespoke of naught but confidence. There she stood in defiance against the darkness.
And she waited.
