' sun / spun . *

‘      ha   !      ’   like   winter winds   ,  her  laugh  is  sharp   &   derisive  .  his  words  ,  arguably  wise  ,   could   and   would   not  be  accepted  by  a   still-grieving   girl  who  still  had  so  much  to  learn   .   ‘      why   ?  you  can’t  change  them  ,  but  you  can  hold  tightly  onto  your  anger  and  never  let  it  go  .  you  keep  the  memory  of  your  regret  fresh   &   alive   &   bitter  so  you  never  forget  it  ,  and  learn  from  it  .      ’   she  does  not  see  the  thorny  path  she  has  set  herself  on  ,  but  the  face  of  her  brother  ,  and  how  to  keep  the  memory  of  him  alive  ,  she  will   never   let  go  of  her  anger  .

ANA. ❜

                        ❛   sure,  suuuure.   ’s  wha’  all  the  alchos  say.   ❜               he  spares  her  a  snort,  taking  a  swig  of  his  drink.   it’s  lukewarm  at  this  point,  a  steadfast  difference  from  the  chilled  temperature  it  had  been  served  at,  but  he  doesn’t  find  room  to  complain  about  anything.               ❛   life’s  good,  doll!!   every  day’s  a  cakewalk.   even  try'na  kick  some  dirty  habits'a  mine.   ❜               there’s  no  need  to  be  truthful  about  anything;  he’ll  always  sell  a  version  of  himself  that  best  suits  the  person  he’s  speaking  to.   ana  seems  warm,  full  of  life,  but  also  a  sensible  amount  of  cynical.   it  seems  right  to  project  the  carefree,  almost  happy-go-lucky  facet  of  his  false  personality  to  her.

                        ❛   y'know  though,   ❜               he  says  after  another  swig  of  his  drink.               ❛   ’ve  seen  yer  house,  ana.   ’m  findin’  it  jus’  a  li'l  hard  ta  believe  y’d  have  business  in  the  likes'a  this  dump.   ❜               despite  his  accusatory  words,  they’re  delivered  with  a  cool  smile  and  an  easy-going  air.   he  then   releases  a  mock-gasp:               ❛   are  y’suin’  someone,  ana?   ❜

‘     really  ? !  that’s  great  ,  crow  .  i’m  really  happy  for  you  .     ’  she  says   sweetly   ,   honestly   .  little  is  suspected  of  his  lies  .  she  tends  not  to  question   humans   much  ,  and  she’s  used  to  superficial  interaction  with  other  royals  who  run  in  the  same  circle  .  by  personal  virtue  ,  she  rarely  lies   (  unless  it  involved  her  night  job  !  )   ,  but  she’s  been  one  to  gloss  over  facts  ,  shy  away  from  the  truth  .  lying  by  omission  :  it’s  something  her  and  her  society’s  people  are  used  to  .

she  waves  her  hand  dismissively  ,  heaving  a  genuine  sigh   ----------   not  for  theatrics  ,   for  once   .   ‘     goodness  ,  i  wish !  say  ,  if  you  know  someone  good  ,  introduce  me  ,  won’t you  ?     ’   back  to  the   teasing lilt   in  her  voice  ,  she  gives  a  smile  with  a  hint  of  wistfulness  .   ‘      my  ,  i  haven’t  thought  of  marriage  in  a  while  .  ridiculous  ,  isn’t  it  ?  take  pity  on  a  lady  such  as  i   ----------   so  young  with  no  suitors  in  sight !     ’

beauty !

              elizabeth is excitement embodied. armed with a dress of bright silks and a beaming smile. the journey was pleasant, surely, though the time had definitely been passed with a nap on the arm of her maid as to speed the trip up. it wasn’t often that she got to venture outside of the realms of her own marquessate’s land or the earldom of her fiance. 

              a ribbon squeezed tight her waist, and a corset even tighter. she could hardly contain herself and the heart beating out her chest ! would she be liked ? “ hello ! ” though there are pleasantries passed to the lovely young woman, elizabeth much prefers her own kinder ways of things to the stuffy victorian manor. “ you look like a princess ! so cuuuute ! ” why give the typical compliment of a lovely pair of gloves or choice in jewels when youth itself can be thrown in words ?

              “ the pleasure is all mine, lady anastasia. i could not in a million years put into words how excited i am, believe me ! ” after a deep curtsy, she throws herself onto the girl, capturing in the tightest of hugs.

a  rosy  blush   blooms   on apple cheeks  ,  a  light  happiness  bubbling  in  the  older  teen’s  heart  at  the  other’s   kind   and  candid  words  .  as  the  other’s  arms  encircled  her  ,  anastasia  felt  it  then  ----------   that  fierce  ,   undying   need  to  protect  the  other  ,  as  if  one  of  her  own  younger  sisters  .  she  knows  her  own   skill   does  not  measure  up  to  the  prodigy’s  ,  and  she  doesn’t  know  elizabeth  is   more  than  what  she  looks  ----------  dear   future   wife  of  the  earl  himself   ----------   but  her  desire  persists  .  fed  by  the   seemingly  innate   nature  of  most  to  protect  that  which  flowed  with   innocence   .  the  lady’s  young  age  furthers  ana’s  wishes  : she  is  of  similar  age  to  her  sisters  ,  thus  triggering  the  same  protective  instinct  .

the  hug  is  returned  with  equal  favour  ,  the  taller  hunching  over  unconsciously  as  if  to  embrace  the  other   protectively   .  once  drawn  apart  ,  she  says  ,   ‘     and  so  do  you  ,  my  lady   !   please  ,  always  retain  your  youthful  look  .     ’   by  which  she  means   innocence   ,  and  she  means  it  quite  seriously  .  though  she  feels  comfortable  enough  to  ,  given  the  other’s   genuine   nature  .   ‘      i  have  heard  of  and   seen   your  skills  ,  and  i  cannot  be  more  enamoured  !     ’   hands  clasped  ,  eyes  starry  .

But, since I first started writing -- so when I was 11 (I’m turning 19 in a few days) -- I always felt like people pay little attention to my characters. It’s probably a combination of my timezone, insecurity on my part, communication difficulties, and a plethora of other factors. Largely, it has become somewhat of a joke, a ‘curse’ of mine, if you will. I see people having very fun and amazing partners/threads/connections while I desperately attempt to gather people interested enough in my character to write with me.

Again, not looking to attack anyone nor garner pity, it’s simply a necessary explanation to lend better context for the following paragraphs. 

Looking at Anastasia, I do hope I in someway allow her intricacies to be displayed to my followers. I’m doubtful people have noticed, since I’m not sure how often others read threads that are not their own, but in some threads she is delightfully remorseless, bitter, and vastly different from other threads I write on her.

I have typically explored her ‘darker side’ through headcanons and self-paragraphs, but of course it’s different than when you’re threading with someone, or talking to someone about it, and having another delightful character intricately woven with yours for a plot. 

Reading through her musings tag, I’m always surprised at the fact that Ana came to existence due to my creation. Not to brag or anything, but I think she has more complexities yet to be revealed to people who follow us and she is so, so vulnerable, that would be an interesting element to be explored in threads. Besides (or alongside) her complexities, her backstory allows interesting plot points to develop. Such as, how much of her life would be affected by having a dear friend? Will she somehow ever get past her hatred of supernatural creatures? At whose hands will she die by?