Biography
Based off of my first OC,
the ghost of a murdered girl-queen
Can the dead talk? Or is it just my mind,playing tricks on me?
They lifted her up
They dragged her down
They called her names
And pulled off her crown
They wouldn't stop
Until she had bled
So they slit her throat
And called for her head,
The blood bubbled up
And spilled over the top
In beads it ran down
Until it was stopped
By the lace on her gown,
All ripped and in knots.
The wedding veil torn
The men casting their lots
She gripped the sticky fabric,
as hard as she could
To elongate her life,
to be understood
Even as she choked and
sputtered out her verse
The mob couldn't hear the words of her curse.
In the chaos her sound was lost in the crowd
The last cry of her voice was feeble and drowned.
She jerked and spasmed, taking her last breath
And then lay still, yielding to death.
A hush fell once she was dead
A little girl in a puddle of red.
Eyes wide open, captured in dread
With her silky black hair fanned around her head.
The crown that fell,
Just a few feet back,
Began to shake,
began to crack.
The diamonds burst, the pearls, they shattered.
The sapphire and silver fell out with a clatter.
And all through the halls, you could hear the haunted screams
Of a little girl who died like a queen.
Adrastea, the girl the world turned on.
Mist veiled the clearing as young Eiji, the witch boy, began to scratch a summoning circle into the dirt with a stick. He was crouched over. The looming shadows of the trees obscured his face, but Adrastea could see it clearly. Hideous, was her first thought. His left eye was gouged out. A pink scar sliced through his lips. Burns, like bubbles beneath his skin, stretched down the length of his throat.
How old was he? Twelve? Thirteen?
Adrastea herself was timeless. After all these years, she had no age. She had stopped counting the days as they bled into decades. There was no use in it, since, without a doubt she'd never be avenged.
But this peculiar little boy, what on earth was he doing? Treading on her sacred grounds, coming into the bones of the old castle. Did he know the penalty, if he was caught? How many sorcerers had the king put to death for even mentioning her name? She swirled around him, her body a fog, draping herself over his shoulders to get a good look at the symbols he scratched deliberately with a steady hand. He was missing three fingers, she noted. He still drew well.
Adrastea had never been good at magic. Her tutor became exasperated early into her lessons and abandoned the subject for one she was more inclined to, which was Sewing: Adrastea's only love.
She racked her brains for the meaning of the stark, ominous looking scribbles he was making, but nothing came to mind. Oh well. It wasn't like she was going anywhere. Her smokey form drifted to the ground, settling into the over grown grass. Time passed slowly, and before long, a pink tinge was edging across the horizon line.
She wished he would hurry. Soldiers patrolled this area, up and down the length of the crumbling structure, their boots trampling and destroying any life that dared spring up within her aging halls. But she knew the dangers of the summoning circle. This Eiji was wise to go slow. One thin line out of place, an insignificant blight in the dirt, once ignited by magic, could be disasterous. Every witch she'd ever known had bore marks of the dangerous trial and error of creating a summoning circle. Like people, none worked the same.
As young as he was, he knew this. She watched as he retraced his marks, muttering to himself, making sure every thing was in it's correct place.
Breeding Info
N/A
| Personality
Dedicated to Serial Dreamer. Thanks, lovely <3
Special thanks to the amazing Mistress Nyx for the name :o
Preferences
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Special Skills
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Winter 
Day Weather: 
