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+---- Thread: [P] Calling out for a hero (/showthread.php?tid=6648)
Calling out for a hero - Asta - 09-26-2021
A s t a
'cause i thought i saw your soul
I checked the door again.
No change.
Locked.
Always Locked.
It was.
Always.
LOCKED.
Ever since they realized I'd snuck to that meeting. You don't need to be there. and We told you we'd tell you later and What if something had happened to you, and of course my favorite part, You are our daughter, you do what we tell you. Now I am stuck. My door to the hallway was locked. My door to the front balcony was locked. I was trapped, in this stupid room, behind these stupid walls. Sure, they let me out for meals, and for lessons, but other than that. I was stuck in here. And I was constantly under watch, three to five guards; every time I was allowed to leave.
This wasn't a home.
It was a prison.
A jail cell.
I was a trapped princess in a tower. A pretty doll behind a display cabinet's glass. An ornament that was to be admired, to be obedient. A perfect daughter. A lady of the house. The Heiress of Stendahl. Well fuck this. Fuck them! I stared around at my destroyed room with a twisted sense of pride in my gut. The draperies around my bed were torn, my mattress shredded. Feathers from my pillows still floated through the air from where I had stabbed stabbed stabbed them. Nicknacks broken. Ornaments pulled off walls. Fancy clothes shredded, jewelry smashed.
My door swung open and I froze.
My parents were staring in horror.
I felt a slow grin split across my face, I got tired of looking at the same old place for weeks on end. I explained casually. My mother stepped aside as my father strolled towards me, and I felt a twist of fear in my gut. I knew that look, I'd seen it before in previous life times. So I wasn't to surprised by the force of the slap, even as I hit the ground. I winced as my father loomed over me. You think this is a joke? You belong to us, you are our daughter. We decide who you talk to, where you go, what you do, how you act, what you say. I stared up, feeling the fear settle over my heart, even as my mother tried to reach out to him, her voice soft. He slapped her touch away, Silence, woman. I am speaking. My mother fell quiet, like a good wife, a good lady of the house. This, was this to be my future as well. To look away, silent as my future husband beat our children for not conforming.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
I was on my feet before I knew it, rushing through the hallways, ignoring the hooves pounding behind me. I didn't look down the stairs, didn't try to head to the next level. I knew they would catch me unless I was reckless. And I was always reckless. At the end of the hallway was a window, a large window, and it opened up onto a gentle down-slope roof. I braced myself and leapt through it. A nearly bit through my tongue, trying not to cry at the jagged glass that tore at my limbs, but I didn't stop, shaking most of the glass from my hair, I half ran, half slid down the slope, and taking a deep breath, I JUMPED.
It was like flying.
I'd had wings before you know.
Another life.
An easier life.
I rolled, careful to not impact the ground directly, and struggled to my feet, ignoring the staring guards at the front door that was looking from me, to the guards peering out through the window. I didn't have time for them to come around. I ran. I ran straight to the heart of Dusk, straight to the Citadel with my only salvation. Pain laced up with each step, blood weeping form the small cuts that I ignored in my drive to escape, to escape this life, this future. The ideals of who I was to be, who they wanted me to grow into. I burst through the main doors, raced through the hallways to where Liam had told me I could find him.
I pushed through the doors, panting, LIAM! I'm over it!" I cried, panting as I could finally stop, my legs suddenly folding beneath me, I had to jump out a window and off the roof to escape the manor! I can't keep doing this! I need he-" My words died in the middle of my plea as I looked up at the stranger, You're not Liam." I stood slowly, forcing my limbs not to shake, I apologize for my interruption. I . . . uh, need to find Liam, do you know where he is?" I waited briefly, even as I took a step towards the door.
And another step.
And another step.
Pain shot back up again, and I felt my legs give out once more, wincing as I collided with the ground. Jumping through windows got more dangerous when we started using glass to build with." I didn't bother to get up, didn't explain myself anymore to the stranger as I instead just stayed on the ground, waiting, buying time for my energy to return, trying to ignore the pain in my limbs, and hoping this stranger would at least fetch Liam for me.
FROM THE MOUTH
INSIDE THE MIND
@Buchanan
Notes:: Adoption process, activate.
No change.
Locked.
Always Locked.
It was.
Always.
LOCKED.
Ever since they realized I'd snuck to that meeting. You don't need to be there. and We told you we'd tell you later and What if something had happened to you, and of course my favorite part, You are our daughter, you do what we tell you. Now I am stuck. My door to the hallway was locked. My door to the front balcony was locked. I was trapped, in this stupid room, behind these stupid walls. Sure, they let me out for meals, and for lessons, but other than that. I was stuck in here. And I was constantly under watch, three to five guards; every time I was allowed to leave.
This wasn't a home.
It was a prison.
A jail cell.
I was a trapped princess in a tower. A pretty doll behind a display cabinet's glass. An ornament that was to be admired, to be obedient. A perfect daughter. A lady of the house. The Heiress of Stendahl. Well fuck this. Fuck them! I stared around at my destroyed room with a twisted sense of pride in my gut. The draperies around my bed were torn, my mattress shredded. Feathers from my pillows still floated through the air from where I had stabbed stabbed stabbed them. Nicknacks broken. Ornaments pulled off walls. Fancy clothes shredded, jewelry smashed.
My door swung open and I froze.
My parents were staring in horror.
I felt a slow grin split across my face, I got tired of looking at the same old place for weeks on end. I explained casually. My mother stepped aside as my father strolled towards me, and I felt a twist of fear in my gut. I knew that look, I'd seen it before in previous life times. So I wasn't to surprised by the force of the slap, even as I hit the ground. I winced as my father loomed over me. You think this is a joke? You belong to us, you are our daughter. We decide who you talk to, where you go, what you do, how you act, what you say. I stared up, feeling the fear settle over my heart, even as my mother tried to reach out to him, her voice soft. He slapped her touch away, Silence, woman. I am speaking. My mother fell quiet, like a good wife, a good lady of the house. This, was this to be my future as well. To look away, silent as my future husband beat our children for not conforming.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
I was on my feet before I knew it, rushing through the hallways, ignoring the hooves pounding behind me. I didn't look down the stairs, didn't try to head to the next level. I knew they would catch me unless I was reckless. And I was always reckless. At the end of the hallway was a window, a large window, and it opened up onto a gentle down-slope roof. I braced myself and leapt through it. A nearly bit through my tongue, trying not to cry at the jagged glass that tore at my limbs, but I didn't stop, shaking most of the glass from my hair, I half ran, half slid down the slope, and taking a deep breath, I JUMPED.
It was like flying.
I'd had wings before you know.
Another life.
An easier life.
I rolled, careful to not impact the ground directly, and struggled to my feet, ignoring the staring guards at the front door that was looking from me, to the guards peering out through the window. I didn't have time for them to come around. I ran. I ran straight to the heart of Dusk, straight to the Citadel with my only salvation. Pain laced up with each step, blood weeping form the small cuts that I ignored in my drive to escape, to escape this life, this future. The ideals of who I was to be, who they wanted me to grow into. I burst through the main doors, raced through the hallways to where Liam had told me I could find him.
I pushed through the doors, panting, LIAM! I'm over it!" I cried, panting as I could finally stop, my legs suddenly folding beneath me, I had to jump out a window and off the roof to escape the manor! I can't keep doing this! I need he-" My words died in the middle of my plea as I looked up at the stranger, You're not Liam." I stood slowly, forcing my limbs not to shake, I apologize for my interruption. I . . . uh, need to find Liam, do you know where he is?" I waited briefly, even as I took a step towards the door.
And another step.
And another step.
Pain shot back up again, and I felt my legs give out once more, wincing as I collided with the ground. Jumping through windows got more dangerous when we started using glass to build with." I didn't bother to get up, didn't explain myself anymore to the stranger as I instead just stayed on the ground, waiting, buying time for my energy to return, trying to ignore the pain in my limbs, and hoping this stranger would at least fetch Liam for me.
FROM THE MOUTH
INSIDE THE MIND
@Buchanan
Notes:: Adoption process, activate.
shades of jade and emerald
RE: Calling out for a hero - Buchanan - 12-20-2021
CAN YOU KEEP ME CLOSE,
He had never been one for court life. Even in his youth when he had been all easy smiles and quick wit, there was something more street-smart about him. At his most done up and put together, Bucky might have been able to pass for someone with some half-decent education and upbringing, but he couldn’t escape the fact that he simply wasn’t meant for the politics and mannerisms of court. He was silent these days while Liam dealt with the inner workings of Terrastella and the Dawn Court — little more than a witness. At times he couldn’t help but wonder if the other stallion wished that he could do more — _be_ more.
Unfortunately this was all Bucky would ever amount to. He played the shadows best, and offering his support was all he could do.
Today felt no different than the last, or the day before that — the same kind of acute awareness that he was still very much a stranger and an outsider in these lands. He had come for Liam, and opening himself up to the other inhabitants here proved difficult. So for much of the time, Bucky had remained away from the hustle and bustle that the court could offer. There were some spaces that were private to Liam, and Bucky found himself remaining to those more often than not.
The cool, salted smell of the ocean clung to the walls from the nearby bluffs, and Bucky inhaled deeply as he leaned against the cold stone. The window before him was beautifully arched, a clear indication of the craftsmanship that went into the structure of this place. These were usually the rooms that Liam occupied throughout the day, but duties took the sovereign away from the heart of the court. In his place Bucky had remained, patiently waiting as he mulled over his own thoughts.
Liam wasn’t expected back for some time still, so when the doors were suddenly pushed open Bucky’s gaze whipped around sharply. As the mare stepped inside, she only managed a few steps before very nearly collapsing. His brow furrowed as he listened to her recount how she had jumped out a window — something that would explain the blood he could make out. Escaping? What the hell was she escaping from? Quickly she seemed to catch on that he wasn’t Liam, and began to back out.
Bucky pushed himself away from his spot against the wall, taking a few steps towards her before he paused as her body finally gave in and her legs crumpled beneath her. He was no medic, and the way he was taught to handle wounds was to work through the pain unless it was life threatening. Bucky wasn’t sure she would even want him close enough to offer any assistance as he remained rooted in place a few feet away.
“He’s away from the citadel today,” he explained lowly, “M’afraid he won’t be back until much later.”
Certainly far too late to deal with — whatever this was. She looked like an absolute mess, and rightfully so seeing as she had just explained her less-than-marvellous escape. Whoever — whatever — was after her wouldn’t lay a hand on her, he decided, until Liam was here to properly sort this out. Inhaling deeply again, Bucky made a move to walk around her and towards the doors. “You said you were escaping? The — manor? M’not — as well versed in all of this as Liam is,” Bucky winced at himself, trying to find the right words to say, “But until his return, I can offer you sanctuary here. An’ maybe get those wounds treated.”
It was the least he could do for her, he assumed. She hadn’t finished what she was going to say, but he could also assume that she was here to ask Liam for his help. Bucky could offer his own assistance in place of the sovereign, for now. Shuffling a bit, he nudged the doors closed again before he took a more cautious step towards the mare. “If you’re alright with my help, that is?” Unlike Liam, Bucky wasn’t the type to insist upon offering a hand to someone in need. If they turned him away, he would leave them to it. That righteous do-good spirit that the other stallion had was notably absent in Bucky these days.
@Asta
Unfortunately this was all Bucky would ever amount to. He played the shadows best, and offering his support was all he could do.
Today felt no different than the last, or the day before that — the same kind of acute awareness that he was still very much a stranger and an outsider in these lands. He had come for Liam, and opening himself up to the other inhabitants here proved difficult. So for much of the time, Bucky had remained away from the hustle and bustle that the court could offer. There were some spaces that were private to Liam, and Bucky found himself remaining to those more often than not.
The cool, salted smell of the ocean clung to the walls from the nearby bluffs, and Bucky inhaled deeply as he leaned against the cold stone. The window before him was beautifully arched, a clear indication of the craftsmanship that went into the structure of this place. These were usually the rooms that Liam occupied throughout the day, but duties took the sovereign away from the heart of the court. In his place Bucky had remained, patiently waiting as he mulled over his own thoughts.
Liam wasn’t expected back for some time still, so when the doors were suddenly pushed open Bucky’s gaze whipped around sharply. As the mare stepped inside, she only managed a few steps before very nearly collapsing. His brow furrowed as he listened to her recount how she had jumped out a window — something that would explain the blood he could make out. Escaping? What the hell was she escaping from? Quickly she seemed to catch on that he wasn’t Liam, and began to back out.
Bucky pushed himself away from his spot against the wall, taking a few steps towards her before he paused as her body finally gave in and her legs crumpled beneath her. He was no medic, and the way he was taught to handle wounds was to work through the pain unless it was life threatening. Bucky wasn’t sure she would even want him close enough to offer any assistance as he remained rooted in place a few feet away.
“He’s away from the citadel today,” he explained lowly, “M’afraid he won’t be back until much later.”
Certainly far too late to deal with — whatever this was. She looked like an absolute mess, and rightfully so seeing as she had just explained her less-than-marvellous escape. Whoever — whatever — was after her wouldn’t lay a hand on her, he decided, until Liam was here to properly sort this out. Inhaling deeply again, Bucky made a move to walk around her and towards the doors. “You said you were escaping? The — manor? M’not — as well versed in all of this as Liam is,” Bucky winced at himself, trying to find the right words to say, “But until his return, I can offer you sanctuary here. An’ maybe get those wounds treated.”
It was the least he could do for her, he assumed. She hadn’t finished what she was going to say, but he could also assume that she was here to ask Liam for his help. Bucky could offer his own assistance in place of the sovereign, for now. Shuffling a bit, he nudged the doors closed again before he took a more cautious step towards the mare. “If you’re alright with my help, that is?” Unlike Liam, Bucky wasn’t the type to insist upon offering a hand to someone in need. If they turned him away, he would leave them to it. That righteous do-good spirit that the other stallion had was notably absent in Bucky these days.
@Asta
mono | art
RE: Calling out for a hero - Asta - 12-21-2021
A s t a
'cause i thought i saw your soul
Escaping from the manor wasn't easy . . . well, it was, but for most it wouldn't have been.
But I am a special case, aren't I?
I knew staying away from the manor would be the real obstacle.
I couldn't do it alone. I'd need help.
His help.
I swore, swore I'd take care of things on my own. Was determined to not have to rely on anyone. It was a weakness to rely on others. It formed bonds, companionships, friendships, connections. And those are dangerous, painful . . . Because when the end would arrive, they would forget about me, and in my next life I would remember them. So I hadn't wanted to turn to Liam, not originally. Like all the times prior, I was determined to slay my own dragon and rescue myself from the gilded tower.
But seeing Father strike mother, having been struck to the floor myself . . .
I couldn't risk it any longer. Escaping my father's control was not an option. Escaping my father's heavy hand was not to be in my future, if I played by my rules. I'd have become a trapped pretty ornament behind those prison walls, answering to my father, and then to my future husband that my father would have domain over. My future was would not exist outside those walls. So . . . to make sure I would never have to return . . .
I ran for the Citadel.
Such weakness to show.
Such a turn to take.
Asking for help.
But Liam had promised to be there, so I had stormed the Citadel, made my way while ignoring the pains and the aches to find the stallion that had promised me a future where I was my own decision maker. Someone who knew nothing about me . . . and I was turning to him for help. I just hoped this wouldn't be a foolish venture. That the new Sovereign was exactly who he made himself out to be. That I wasn't trading one jailer for another. So I made my way into that room, doors whipping open, my dramatic tale falling from my muzzle, even as the pain from the open wounds on my limbs became more known.
Then I realized who I was speaking to.
Or rather who I wasn't speaking to.
Who the fuck is this?
It sure the hell wasn't Liam. What the hell! Liam said these were his rooms! Liam said he would be here to help if I ever needed his help! Who the fucking hell was this!?
I wanted to rant, I wanted to rave. I wanted to panic, and scream and shout about betrayal. But I also knew this was Liam's Citadel. And this stallion looked too comfortable to be an intruder - and if I wanted a successful rescue I probably shouldn't piss either of them off. Yes, I know; a rather disturbing challenge for me to have to undertake. So I instead moved to back up, only to see this large being push away from the wall, moving towards me.
Ah hell no, buddy. I was barely willing to let Liam help me, I don't need anyone else approaching me . . . The pain distracted me from furthering my retreat, as the damned things folded beneath me, and I crumbled. Like a sail with out wind. Like a doll dropped by a distracted child. The pressure of my wounds against the floor was even more painful than just standing on these torn up legs!
Thankfully this stranger seemed to keep his distance, a few feet back, and when he finally spoke I cut my gaze towards him, my features twisting at his words. Great. Just great. My parents wouldn't take long to figure out where I had come. And with out Liam here, what was to keep them from dragging me back? "You're kidding me, right?" The words dripped off my muzzle like something foul, and I let my forehead drop, colliding with the floor. "Gone. For the whole fucking day? Well shit . . . Guess I'm just out of all kinds of fucking luck lately. Blessed by Vespera, my dusk-kissed ass." I growl, glaring at the floor as if it had caused some sort of personal attack against my person.
I couldn't blame this stranger.
Nor could I blame Liam. He was King after all.
Of course he'd have more important things to deal with than my pathetic situation. I was EONS old, and I couldn't rescue my damn self this time. Pathetic, Asta, real fucking pathetic aren't ya? That gruff voice turns my attention back, and I lift my head up, and I watch as he walks towards the doors, around me, asking about escaping, then offering me sanctuary until Liam gets back, as well as treatment.
Instantly my ears pin, and that normal mantra leaves my muzzle before I can actually think about his offer, "I don't need anyone's help or sanctuary. I can jump through my own windows, leap off my own roofs, and outrun my own body guards, thank you very fucking much." I can't help but pause, my gaze cutting past him, out the door, down the hall, as if imagining my parents approach. I hesitate, for a second that turned into a minute, and then five, "But, I mean, if you're offerin' to . . . . say, tell anyone who might show up looking for Asta Stendahl, that you ain't never heard of me, nor seen me . . . I wouldn't be opposed." I added, keeping my tone and attitude blaise, unaffected. It wasn't asking for help, not really. Cause I don't need help.
"And I don't need any treatment either. Just some flesh wounds is all!" I add quickly, immediately moving to climb to my feet. Damn did that hurt though. I could feel my limbs shaking, as I grimaced but kept my knees locked so I wouldn't crumble. I put on my best 'this is nothing face' and tried to keep my voice as neutral as possible, See, this . . . ain't . . . . nothing." My legs were only shaking like a the last leaf in a winter storm. It doesn't take long before I give up, and hit the floor again, my breath leaving my in a frustrated gush.
I glare up at the stallion when he asks if I'm alright with his help, narrowing my eyes, Look buddy, I ain't alright takin' help from anyone. Not you. Not Liam. No one. Just me, myself and I. But I ain't really got a choice here. My father's already probably hunting around for where I took of to, and he'll have my hide if he finds me. I can't fucking walk, much less stand, and . . . well, to put it frankly, these wounds fucking hurt! Why the hell did they invent glass anyways! Escaping places was a lot easier before they added such thick glass to windows!" I flop onto my side, relieving some of the pressure off of my limbs, groaning out loud, I'm fuckin' screwed. Practically lamed myself up, just trying to get here, and Liam is gone for the day." I pause then, cutting my eyes back to this stranger, "And who the hell are you, anyway? I'm obviously Asta, as I mentioned earlier. Asta Stendahl, heiress of House Stendahl." It was the best I could do at an introduction, given the situation, and it was as polite as I was going to get. I didn't even cuss that time! Hopefully this stranger would be willing to help . . . 'cause I really had no other option here . . . .
Damn, this sucks.
FROM THE MOUTH
INSIDE THE MIND
@Buchanan
Notes:: Asta's in a mood. I'm sorry . . . .
But I am a special case, aren't I?
I knew staying away from the manor would be the real obstacle.
I couldn't do it alone. I'd need help.
His help.
I swore, swore I'd take care of things on my own. Was determined to not have to rely on anyone. It was a weakness to rely on others. It formed bonds, companionships, friendships, connections. And those are dangerous, painful . . . Because when the end would arrive, they would forget about me, and in my next life I would remember them. So I hadn't wanted to turn to Liam, not originally. Like all the times prior, I was determined to slay my own dragon and rescue myself from the gilded tower.
But seeing Father strike mother, having been struck to the floor myself . . .
I couldn't risk it any longer. Escaping my father's control was not an option. Escaping my father's heavy hand was not to be in my future, if I played by my rules. I'd have become a trapped pretty ornament behind those prison walls, answering to my father, and then to my future husband that my father would have domain over. My future was would not exist outside those walls. So . . . to make sure I would never have to return . . .
I ran for the Citadel.
Such weakness to show.
Such a turn to take.
Asking for help.
But Liam had promised to be there, so I had stormed the Citadel, made my way while ignoring the pains and the aches to find the stallion that had promised me a future where I was my own decision maker. Someone who knew nothing about me . . . and I was turning to him for help. I just hoped this wouldn't be a foolish venture. That the new Sovereign was exactly who he made himself out to be. That I wasn't trading one jailer for another. So I made my way into that room, doors whipping open, my dramatic tale falling from my muzzle, even as the pain from the open wounds on my limbs became more known.
Then I realized who I was speaking to.
Or rather who I wasn't speaking to.
Who the fuck is this?
It sure the hell wasn't Liam. What the hell! Liam said these were his rooms! Liam said he would be here to help if I ever needed his help! Who the fucking hell was this!?
I wanted to rant, I wanted to rave. I wanted to panic, and scream and shout about betrayal. But I also knew this was Liam's Citadel. And this stallion looked too comfortable to be an intruder - and if I wanted a successful rescue I probably shouldn't piss either of them off. Yes, I know; a rather disturbing challenge for me to have to undertake. So I instead moved to back up, only to see this large being push away from the wall, moving towards me.
Ah hell no, buddy. I was barely willing to let Liam help me, I don't need anyone else approaching me . . . The pain distracted me from furthering my retreat, as the damned things folded beneath me, and I crumbled. Like a sail with out wind. Like a doll dropped by a distracted child. The pressure of my wounds against the floor was even more painful than just standing on these torn up legs!
Thankfully this stranger seemed to keep his distance, a few feet back, and when he finally spoke I cut my gaze towards him, my features twisting at his words. Great. Just great. My parents wouldn't take long to figure out where I had come. And with out Liam here, what was to keep them from dragging me back? "You're kidding me, right?" The words dripped off my muzzle like something foul, and I let my forehead drop, colliding with the floor. "Gone. For the whole fucking day? Well shit . . . Guess I'm just out of all kinds of fucking luck lately. Blessed by Vespera, my dusk-kissed ass." I growl, glaring at the floor as if it had caused some sort of personal attack against my person.
I couldn't blame this stranger.
Nor could I blame Liam. He was King after all.
Of course he'd have more important things to deal with than my pathetic situation. I was EONS old, and I couldn't rescue my damn self this time. Pathetic, Asta, real fucking pathetic aren't ya? That gruff voice turns my attention back, and I lift my head up, and I watch as he walks towards the doors, around me, asking about escaping, then offering me sanctuary until Liam gets back, as well as treatment.
Instantly my ears pin, and that normal mantra leaves my muzzle before I can actually think about his offer, "I don't need anyone's help or sanctuary. I can jump through my own windows, leap off my own roofs, and outrun my own body guards, thank you very fucking much." I can't help but pause, my gaze cutting past him, out the door, down the hall, as if imagining my parents approach. I hesitate, for a second that turned into a minute, and then five, "But, I mean, if you're offerin' to . . . . say, tell anyone who might show up looking for Asta Stendahl, that you ain't never heard of me, nor seen me . . . I wouldn't be opposed." I added, keeping my tone and attitude blaise, unaffected. It wasn't asking for help, not really. Cause I don't need help.
"And I don't need any treatment either. Just some flesh wounds is all!" I add quickly, immediately moving to climb to my feet. Damn did that hurt though. I could feel my limbs shaking, as I grimaced but kept my knees locked so I wouldn't crumble. I put on my best 'this is nothing face' and tried to keep my voice as neutral as possible, See, this . . . ain't . . . . nothing." My legs were only shaking like a the last leaf in a winter storm. It doesn't take long before I give up, and hit the floor again, my breath leaving my in a frustrated gush.
I glare up at the stallion when he asks if I'm alright with his help, narrowing my eyes, Look buddy, I ain't alright takin' help from anyone. Not you. Not Liam. No one. Just me, myself and I. But I ain't really got a choice here. My father's already probably hunting around for where I took of to, and he'll have my hide if he finds me. I can't fucking walk, much less stand, and . . . well, to put it frankly, these wounds fucking hurt! Why the hell did they invent glass anyways! Escaping places was a lot easier before they added such thick glass to windows!" I flop onto my side, relieving some of the pressure off of my limbs, groaning out loud, I'm fuckin' screwed. Practically lamed myself up, just trying to get here, and Liam is gone for the day." I pause then, cutting my eyes back to this stranger, "And who the hell are you, anyway? I'm obviously Asta, as I mentioned earlier. Asta Stendahl, heiress of House Stendahl." It was the best I could do at an introduction, given the situation, and it was as polite as I was going to get. I didn't even cuss that time! Hopefully this stranger would be willing to help . . . 'cause I really had no other option here . . . .
Damn, this sucks.
FROM THE MOUTH
INSIDE THE MIND
@Buchanan
Notes:: Asta's in a mood. I'm sorry . . . .
shades of jade and emerald