3rd POV & 1st POV. Semi-para to novella. Mirrors.

Read through Leann's profile first. PM to plot + ooc matters. Rooms over walls, unless there are no available rooms. No poking. No godmodding. No one-liners. Transparency in terms of muse for the plot is needed. Communicate at all times. 

No genre preference. You can flexibly write any genre with me. 

One would often wonder how life is beyond the crystalline doors of her kingdom come. "What lies outside?" She muses, and more often than not, they feign ignorance towards her curiosity. With just a snap of a finger and even without her saying anything, blessings would come pouring from the bed of clouds resting above her head. More than three meals a day, a surplus of clothing items, a wide collection of toys and collectibles were just three of the many select aspects of her life that bloomed effortlessly. The throne belonged to no one but her, and yet with everything with her reach, the princess herself felt empty. The gap has yet to be filled, and truthfully, one question remained in her head: "Until when will the moon continue to enchant her in place of her guardians' absence?" On the dawn of February 14 came along a princess who carried within her a superfluity of love to give. Distant orbs questioning her existence glimmered atop the innocent being's visage. What was supposedly a regalia of love spiraled into a badge of hatred. None of these were what she wanted, and yet, she was destined for a life where love was far from the shore. The crowd welcomed the king and the queen with the brightest smiles on their faces and death was upon their vision. Emotionless. Pretentious. Pitiful. They mourned for another life gone to waste in the hands of two far-flung souls.

Growing up, the princess was oblivious to the discrepancies of the world. In the arms of those belonging to the lower portion of the spectrum, she was provided with the nurturing care that she needed. And at the end of the day, there still was no sign of the king and the queen. As though they were shadows in her existence, the princess knew of a world that could barely scratch a surface. See the good in all things, they said. In a world where cruelty was at its peak, rare was a kind heart and the prophecy laid out for her was to be the source of all that is light in the world. And so she complied. Not once did the princess bathe herself in blood or sink herself in the darkness. If this was the only way for her to get her parents to look back and recognise her, then she was sure to give it her all. Gradually, the princess learned the ropes between the class distinctions that man himself has crafted. She was witness to it all: of how her helpers made her their top priority above all else, of how her helpers were mistreated by the loving figures she naturally should have adored, and of how the blinding riches were enough to disrupt the supposedly sturdy morale of a respectable being. For a group of people who gave their all without having anything to spend for themselves and their families, the princess was quick to question the life that she was given. Is this what she truly deserved? What plans did the all-knowing-being have for her? With a leap of faith, the princess jumped onto the chance of sparking change within the secluded walls of her so-called home. A taste of rebellion made in good faith was manifested through her words—desperate tunes rolling from the tip of her tongue as she begged her parents for the first time. For someone with so much love to give, it was enough to misuse a double-edged sword. Tension embraces the space she shared with the souls whom she was attached to, and yet, there was no sign of compassion looming above their orbs. They were hollow. Empty. But a love that was kept at bay spilled ever so fluidly, overwhelming the individuals at the other side of the shore in ways that they themselves could not comprehend. What was she so worked up about? Why couldn't she stay still? And so to silence her, the queen takes hold of a heart-stopping sharpness—grazing it across the princess' visage as though marking her of where she truly belongs. The line was drawn, and no words were heard from the princess since that night.

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