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
