— { ♕ } — Flawless and pale, smooth skin. Kind and gentle, warm eyes. Soft and hesitant, touch of a goddess. Loving and caring, forever living.
Standing on a balcony, day after day, overlooking beauties left of the world was one of the few things that Mikoto, Evenstar of the House of Indra, last enjoyed. Her hair, raven black as that of her ancestors and the night sky above her very eyes, held twinkling jewels, in honor of stars above that held her faith.
Or, at least, that’s what she led herself to half-believe on good days.
With a small sigh, the elven lady, laden in ornate clothing and wear, rests her cheek gently on the smooth of her palm, resting against the sturdy railing of Elven or Dwarven make, waiting for something other than the noise of the party held behind her, past the ;‘blinds of power and into the ballroom of imprisonment’ {or better yet known as the heavy curtains and quite normal ballroom}, to interest her.
