To call the times wonderful and harsh would be the cruelest understatement of the new year. So many wonders, so many tragedies, so little days passing. To say that she were happy would be like spitting on a grave, but to call her sad would be insult to those suffering.
Her fingers tapped her quill lightly on the desk that she wrote at. The heavy smell of black dye clung to her face despite her hair being drawn back. Sadly, the clipped locks fell back to frame her young face the moment she moved her head up to look at the window behind her chair. Soft morning rays stroked her cheek as she faced them, the rouge on them shining faintly with the sunshine. A gentle sigh escaped her as she stood, the letter addressed to a Wodenstaff forgot momentarily as she stared out with pale blue eyes to the stone stair case not far off.
Crimson curls of hair bounced in her memory for a moment as she remembered her first friend made and lost nearly two weeks ago. Her left hand lifted to the opposite side and pressed to the cloth on her shoulder, a smile taking her for a moment as she remember another hand doing the same as she'd been in the gardens, but when she lifted her eyes to the other's, it was not icy blue but striking green that met her.
A jolt of shock took her as her eyes fluttered open. The icy-eyed boy shook his head from the steps and turned. His footsteps seemed to echo in her mind a moment, those footsteps that were not his but her heavy plated ones, walking away. Leaving him for the last time though she'd never know it till she spotted the notice of death on the board. She pressed the palm of hand to her eye and scrubbed the memory away, eye now red when she pulled her hand away. She sat back at the desk that truly wasn't her's. Her fingers wrote their message quickly and the paper was folded, passed to a servant, and taken away.
Many minutes passed before she stood once more, moving down the steps and down to the floor that held the front door. The heavy footfalls of a man reminded her of the guard that followed her. She tilted her head up in a proud stance and made out the door. To call the times wonderful and harsh would be the cruelest understatement of the new year. It was beautiful and deadly.
