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─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆‧₊˚✧❅❄︎❅✧˚₊‧⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⚜⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚ 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔖𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔢 ₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⚜⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
'𝐓𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫
𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞
𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬
𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞
𝐍𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰'𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝
𝐍𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡
𝐓𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡 How it had been six months time already was beyond Ellowyn's understanding. The brilliance of spring, dulled and darkened by the loss of her beloved father, had long since passed on. The heat of summer, timid on the mountains that house the Sapphire kingdom, had wilted beneath the insistent approach of autumn. As the colors of the trees turned from green to gold, leaves lively to withering, not even her most favored season could change the constancy of her mourning. Pyotyr, the 3rd king of the Artyomov line, stood petrified in the royal gardens. As if carved from marble by artisanal labor, the proud lion was frozen, arm outstretched as if to defend the party behind him, eternally imprisoned.The dying seasons only seemed to mirror Ellowyn's broken spirit. At first, her grief had been lively and animated, as the budding and birthing whims of spring are wont to be. It boiled and raged desperately like the scalding summer for a time, begging and demanding no efforts be spared to free her father from his stony enclosure. It began to melt into different shades of suffering, as the leaves of fall do turn. And now, it blankets her, like the first untrodden snow of winter. Cold, lifeless, and merciless. Winter had been so beautiful to her, before. A staple of that majesty of her home. Now, it simply felt like a mockery of her sorry state. Not even her mother could be borrowed to turn from her own heartbreak to tend to her daughter's.Her nights are often spent restlessly. At times, the princess will choose to spare the guards her turmoil, choosing instead to toss and turn restlessly on her lonesome. On other occasions, her selflessness thins somewhat, and she tries to find a quiet corner of the shadow-laden library to curl in with book or tome in hand. Some nights her concern for image wears so thin that she wanders aimlessly through the halls of the castle, billowing nightgown sweeping delicately across the plush carpets and stone floors, a weeping spectre in her own home. The guards watch with pity in their gaze as the gem of their kingdom sobs in the quiet, lightless halls, candle in hand to guide her way. They try to pay her as much privacy as they can, turning their heads away to spare her their solemn watch. "Papa, how can I sleep without you? You cannot brush my hair when you worry, anymore. You cannot remind me of all the wonders of the world. An anchor, a lifeline, you were so steadfast that I never truly understood what it meant to be untethered. Aimless. I am aimless without you. The roses that grew on your pedestal are dead, now. I fear they will never live again. Like you. Like you, Papa, how can I live without you?"₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⚜⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚ 𝓐𝓻𝓽 𝓫𝔂 
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⚜⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⚜⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚ Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Feline (Other)
Size 1717 x 2146px
File Size 388.1 kB
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