Felis
TNPer
Any form of OOC must go in this thread: http://forum.thenorthpacific.org/topic/7363116/1/#new
29th February 1801
I am alone. I have murdered the right heir to the throne of Cronaal, Prince Archibald York. A vile man he was, a thief behind the disguise of royalty and the power he held above me and my relatives. Not just thievery did he act, but he forced himself upon my own sibling, a young woman with little knowledge of the corruption and hate of the royal family. I feel truly sorry for what may happen to her now that I have ran away to the depths of the Silver-Anvil Forest, I will miss her golden, curled locks which flowed down her ever-so pale neck as if she were one of the dead. She will be dead soon. My hatred, my spite filled hatred for a single man may have led to my family's bereavement. I am now no worse than the prince himself. I am a murderer not of an heir, but of those I loved and cared for because I couldn't handle the evil of a single man... Now I must think of my family, not of a man. I dream of my mother's chestnut hair which gleamed in the sunlight, the cold, frosty sunlight which beamed onto the streets and people of Smithworks. I dream of her ivy green eyes, they contrasted with her pale skin which I and my sister inherited. I miss both of them, no matter how hard I hope and dream of meeting with them in Astaerta-Loette in the North of our isle. It will not happen and I am alone. A tear came from Diana's eye, it ran down her cheek to create a glistening line down her face. She couldn't bare to write a single word but she did so for a reason only she knew and did not wish to share.
She closed her journal-like book and placed it into her small shoulder bag, it was made of a rough leather which had many scraped and marks on, it was also a light brown and didn't blend in with the, also rough, trees that surrounded her. She didn't care though. Her only thought was of heat and fire, the Silver-Anvil forest bitter and frozen. It was uninhabited and desolate, the people of Cronaal wished not to move into the frozen wastes and empty forest that this land was. Diana continued walking at an ever-slowing pace through the snow which crunched and receded after every step she took.
29th February 1801
I am alone. I have murdered the right heir to the throne of Cronaal, Prince Archibald York. A vile man he was, a thief behind the disguise of royalty and the power he held above me and my relatives. Not just thievery did he act, but he forced himself upon my own sibling, a young woman with little knowledge of the corruption and hate of the royal family. I feel truly sorry for what may happen to her now that I have ran away to the depths of the Silver-Anvil Forest, I will miss her golden, curled locks which flowed down her ever-so pale neck as if she were one of the dead. She will be dead soon. My hatred, my spite filled hatred for a single man may have led to my family's bereavement. I am now no worse than the prince himself. I am a murderer not of an heir, but of those I loved and cared for because I couldn't handle the evil of a single man... Now I must think of my family, not of a man. I dream of my mother's chestnut hair which gleamed in the sunlight, the cold, frosty sunlight which beamed onto the streets and people of Smithworks. I dream of her ivy green eyes, they contrasted with her pale skin which I and my sister inherited. I miss both of them, no matter how hard I hope and dream of meeting with them in Astaerta-Loette in the North of our isle. It will not happen and I am alone. A tear came from Diana's eye, it ran down her cheek to create a glistening line down her face. She couldn't bare to write a single word but she did so for a reason only she knew and did not wish to share.
She closed her journal-like book and placed it into her small shoulder bag, it was made of a rough leather which had many scraped and marks on, it was also a light brown and didn't blend in with the, also rough, trees that surrounded her. She didn't care though. Her only thought was of heat and fire, the Silver-Anvil forest bitter and frozen. It was uninhabited and desolate, the people of Cronaal wished not to move into the frozen wastes and empty forest that this land was. Diana continued walking at an ever-slowing pace through the snow which crunched and receded after every step she took.
