muffin!

Far Far Away. Far, Far, very far, the farthest, Away. Far away in every sense, fantastical and story-like, so far that it could have been fiction. Nothing there seemed real. Not a dream, not a nightmare, not reality, not fantasy. But a feeling, intangible as air. The feeling she got from reading her fairytale stories about princesses and knights, dragons and castles. Hot, dreamy jealousy. Yes, it’s a story. But it’s real for someone, it was, and she knew them, and that’s enough. “That’s enough,” she said to herself, and to the worms and the moss, as she closed the book delicately and lifted her eyes to the clouds.

Naturally, she found herself wrapped up in something else. Yet again, curiosity stirred about within her like boiling lava under the bridge between the castle and the land, simmering, waiting to engulf.

She said honestly that her name was Kitty, that she accompanied the long awaited princess, and that there was no other reason nor desire to be there, this is worse than even an ogre’s swamp for any other human, why are you talking to me anyway?

A single glance told her all that she needed to know, except why she warranted his attention, when it was often spent on the riches of this kingdom she’d already come to despise, and likely more nefarious things. She just didn’t know what. It was best not to make any enemies. Not knowingly, anyway.

A pair of blue eyes, searching, assuming. Unknowing, but rather curious and impudent, made for the moonlight to capture in a diamond essence, shining through the secrets and intentions kept hidden. An impressive blonde mane likened to the nameless storybook princes who deserved their princesses. Kitty wasn’t ever one to notice these things, or to know what made these princes so admirable… but he looked just like them. Handsome and charming were words most often used. She didn’t understand it.

Kitty is no princess. A swamp-dweller in their purest form, save for ogreness. Human beauty rotting in the wretched recesses of green lands, dipped in mud, scuffed with dirt, gnawed through by maggots and worn by the sun. But there was potential in those eyes, darkly, distantly inquiring, searching just the same. Cascades of fluffy waves resting behind tense shoulders, shades darker than oak bark, beaten by the wind alike. Relics along a body that’s endured so much more than she deserved in a short life.