ᶜʳᵒˢˢᶤᶰᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ || {ᵈᵃʳᵏᶰᵉˢˢᵒᵛᵉʳᵗᶤᵐᵉ}
{☆} ------ 'Stars, hide your f i r e s. Let not light see my black and deep d e s i r e s.' Chimes-- rings from the heavens themselves echoed from atop a capitols' balcony high; pitches lush with harmonized, appeasing tones gracing eardrums scattered across the Tenebrae nation's landscapes. It seemed as if every echo drew yet another civilian near to it's source- the bell's song signalizing sanctuary for those whom come to celebrate this momentous occasion-- the stars' illusory place within the sky seeming to dim gradually this night. Twilight cascaded the country's celestial sphere, as if the moon had melted the sun- drips of lunar carnage consuming the light that dared to grace the sight of the conquered kingdom's blood. Gatherings of civilians soon became illuminated within a golden radiance; iron, onyx-clad streetlamps paving the way towards the momentous Tenebrae castle. Footsteps tapped the stone pathway which welcomed the silver-woven chained drawbridge-- bronze hues swirled from within the heavily-guarded complex as silken material spun clockwise; material clad towards figures swaying betwixt another's arms. The glazed, medieval grandfather clock facing atop the complex's front ticked closely towards midnight, which announced most fatal news-- the castle Tenebrae housing a substantial ballroom gathering towards the salient occurrence that the Kingdoms Tenebrae and Nifelheim have signed and established a peace doctrine. Several civilians from each kingdom lost themselves as they and their chosen partners blurred thin lines of reality with the sway of their hips betwixt heated, passionate excitement. This was to be a celebration- one of titanic proportions which would extend throughout the unforgiving night-- as soon arrival of the Royal family of Nifelheim would so kindly grace the crowd's presence-- if they so chose to merely associate among their people. Alabaster-tipped nails dug softly within creamed flesh-- that behavior was nothing short of an absolute monarchy-- simply tyrannical, and nothing short of dishonorable. Intrepid violin strings filled the air with whimsical, light-hearted melodies; the candle-lit castle casting shadows of all sizes which seemed to tell legends betwixt honorable halls. Palms of love-stricken maidens were being pressed atop hopeful gentleman's quivering lips-- nations which were destined to despise one another now bonding to possibly create one. The idea of this was simply preposterous-- though may a commoner's ear never bestow the truth which the Princess was forbidden to release past rebellion's lips. Nifelheim's recent attack and siege upon Accordo was an act of ruthless tyranny which would have undoubtedly unfolded upon Tenebrae's bronzed soldiers-- if not the brisk spirals provided by a hastened, feathered quill grasped by the Fleuret King. Tenebrae was now in alliance with intrepid, iniquitous dynasties-- all forced too soon attack a Kingdom once held in the highest diplomatic honors by the Fleuret namesake-- Lucis. The hue of delicate lilac significantly darkened upon the dawning realization- peached, rosy undertones fading from a stoic completion. It was not a choice made by herself to become this wicked, vile personnel-- though resisting would spill her crimson blood across alabaster floors in a mere instance. Anger rose within the Princess' chest; eyelids snapping shut as tears dared not to slip past weary eyes. Should she just embrace it? Standing from atop her golden throne-- the Princess quickly dismissed herself from the balcony she was placed upon; thick eyelashes snapping shut. As her left hand swiftly met with her heaved bosom; quickened footsteps padded down the iron, spiraled stairs which paved the way towards royalty. The Princess needed to breathe-- to escape the sudden morbid clutch which had sank it's pointed claws directly through her beating, paced organ which lay vulnerable to many future battlefields-- though as an attempt to regain herself amethyst hues burned into gold as every fiber of breath escaped from paled lips. Stella had merely glanced up from her hurried antics-- though now stood frozen as eyes locked upon one-another in an embrace the woman simply couldn't place. Words forced themselves out of a stunned, clenched encasing- her stare wavering not once. "My apologizes, Sir." The ashen blonde began; her posture relaxing slightly as her palms nonchalantly smoothed the creases upon the ivory dress worn; sight never blurring. "I did not mean to bump into you--" Iris' contracted. "I am deeply apologetic." The Princess found herself unable to look away-- as if she were pulled towards this man through her grim demeanor.
