08-24-2015, 03:23 AM
Virgo has always dreamed of meeting her mother, of loving more than just bleached bones in the forests of the Valley that she assumed had belonged to the queen who gave her life. She wanted to know that humble beauty that had her father so infatuated with her, that had her kingdom so enamored by her. Her grandfather had told her stories of that gentle crippled girl and how she ruled the kingdom that had once belonged only to the gifted evils. What was she like, to enter the nursery of shadows and death with her shoulders back and head so high? Fate had thrown her to the wolves and she had returned as their leader. The thought always made the spined girl sigh like a day dreaming child again.
She is nothing like her, she believes. She is callous and cold and empty, only ever momentarily filled with a seething hatred for whatever tests her patience on any given day. Now, as that radiant sun begins to emerge from the depths of the horizon, she finds her chest blooming with the fires of her anger once more when a voice calls out nearby enough for her to assume it is directed towards her. Virgo is ripped from her day (night? morning?) dreaming as she looks over her shoulder at the winged stranger standing close by.
"Is there a way to not stand randomly? Please, enlighten me, dove boy," she says as she turns to face him, even taking a few steps closer to examine his glowing spots. "Or should I call you kitten? You're quite a confusing thing."
There is a smirk across her pale lips as she watches him with a sort of satisfaction, mentally patting herself on the back for her oh so witty jokes. Or at least it seemed witty to her given how long it has been since she got the opportunity to try and make snide remarks toward anyone other than herself. (She laughs at her own jokes when no one else is around to and prays no one is close enough to discover this.)
"My name is Virgo, by the way."
In her younger years she might have introduced herself with her parents' names as well, but the memory of them is scarce among anyone outside her little family. Even those who survived this long have all wandered away from these lands, leaving her to carry that tired old banner by herself. She has yet to see her sister, obviously. Camrynn would likely delight in seeing her older sibling so miserable.
She is nothing like her, she believes. She is callous and cold and empty, only ever momentarily filled with a seething hatred for whatever tests her patience on any given day. Now, as that radiant sun begins to emerge from the depths of the horizon, she finds her chest blooming with the fires of her anger once more when a voice calls out nearby enough for her to assume it is directed towards her. Virgo is ripped from her day (night? morning?) dreaming as she looks over her shoulder at the winged stranger standing close by.
"Is there a way to not stand randomly? Please, enlighten me, dove boy," she says as she turns to face him, even taking a few steps closer to examine his glowing spots. "Or should I call you kitten? You're quite a confusing thing."
There is a smirk across her pale lips as she watches him with a sort of satisfaction, mentally patting herself on the back for her oh so witty jokes. Or at least it seemed witty to her given how long it has been since she got the opportunity to try and make snide remarks toward anyone other than herself. (She laughs at her own jokes when no one else is around to and prays no one is close enough to discover this.)
"My name is Virgo, by the way."
In her younger years she might have introduced herself with her parents' names as well, but the memory of them is scarce among anyone outside her little family. Even those who survived this long have all wandered away from these lands, leaving her to carry that tired old banner by herself. She has yet to see her sister, obviously. Camrynn would likely delight in seeing her older sibling so miserable.
VIRGO
she comes at your body like a feast.
she picks you clean, then wants to know why you are so empty.
she leaves, she leaves.
she comes at your body like a feast.
she picks you clean, then wants to know why you are so empty.
she leaves, she leaves.