dress me up and watch me die
They move as shadows across the open field, unafraid, unabashed. They offer occasional glances but silence clutches their throats as they drink in the sight of unfamiliarity. They never left the Dale as children, but they’ve since abandoned their gangly adolescence. Perhaps father has played a role in their perfection, but their mothers are also beautiful. Good genetics, they joke on days where the sun is blanketing across their backs. They aren’t quite so elegant as their parents, however; not in the very least. Despite the angelic nature of their father, both girls have been tainted by their grandfather.
(He was cruel. He was a mad king that wanted only blood)
He couldn’t have been so mean as that. He had children.
(All because he had children didn’t mean he was a good father)
Tiphon’s words clung to their subconscious, unshaken by their own ideologies. Estela admired the way grandfather sounded, but Elaria became wary. Is their family history, the acts of Infection, the reason Tiphon looks at them differently? Two sets of twins within one spring and each of them bore the curse of their paternal grandfather. How odd.
It has been a while since they’ve seen their other halves. Both girls yearn for the touch of their siblings, wanting to feel whole again, but for some reason they find themselves in the meadow instead of the Dale. Instead of huddled to their parents they found each other. Two of the abominations, two of Tiphon’s undead children living together, moving together, protecting each other.
elaria