[ It still doesn't feel good. Razor-thin crystals have begun to sprout from Kiriona's joints, and it is the first time in six months that her body has changed. She welcomes it. They make it harder for her to move, but easier for her to feel, and this time, it will feel good. This time, she will get it right.
When the Crown Prince turns to you, there are no bags under her eyes or creases in her face to make her look tired. Her body will always and forever be a perfect mask of death. But there is exhaustion in the set of her shoulders, in her slight forward hunch. She is no longer the perfect picture of royalty. She's more dangerous.
The old man barely finishes volunteering before Kiriona lunges forward, grabbing him by the neck. ]
Listen to me. This is the part where you fucking listen to me.
middle stages; cw: abuse, self-harm
When the Crown Prince turns to you, there are no bags under her eyes or creases in her face to make her look tired. Her body will always and forever be a perfect mask of death. But there is exhaustion in the set of her shoulders, in her slight forward hunch. She is no longer the perfect picture of royalty. She's more dangerous.
The old man barely finishes volunteering before Kiriona lunges forward, grabbing him by the neck. ]
Listen to me. This is the part where you fucking listen to me.