Ashling Lightwood, District One [WIP]

All the pictures you take begin to fade away.
All the promises you make are always broken.
So tell me, where's the truth? Where's it lie?

Far away, deep inside,
Don't you know your time's running out
And you can't hide?

Ashling is nothing special. She has no siblings - in fact, she has no family at all. She's lived in an orphanage in District One for the majority of her life. At the age of seventeen [17], she is the oldest orphan there. Often, she can be found tucked into the corner of the recreation room, absorbed in a good book. At first glance, one wouldn't even notice her. Ash has obviously mastered the fine art of being invisible, ensuring her place in the orphanage until she is eighteen and old enough to live on her own. And yet, if one were to pay attention to her for longer than a simple second, perhaps they would begin to wonder. What exactly is she hiding from, and why?

Hide away for too long,
It won't matter when the truth is gone.
So when will you listen?

The pen was brand new, a gift from the keeper of the orphanage. A birthday present. They couldn't afford a big cake or party or anything too extravagent, but Ash was used to that. She was delighted by what she did recieve - a notebook with a silver cover, a matching pen, and some brownies made by the younger ones. The gifts surrounded her, the notebook open to the first fresh page on her lap, the brownies half eaten at her side, the cool pen gripped between her fingers as she gazed down at the page. She had read everything the orphanage had to offer and then had gone out and bought books for herself, and yet she couldn't think of a single thing to write? Not a single fantasy or adventure? Well, then, she thought. I suppose I'll just have to write about what I know. Very carefully, she brought the pen down to the paper, and began scribbling in her elegant handwriting.

I don't know if I believe in stories that begin with once upon a time, so that's not how mine is going to start. But trust me when I say that this tale will not be without its fair share of fantasy - after all, it all begins with a princess who couldn't tell the difference between real and fiction. Sometimes, I think she still can't. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Who wants to read the ending to a story before the beginning? I suppose I should start with her name, Ash. A bit odd, I know, but she doesn't mind it. At least, she didn't used to. And now, I suppose, you'll want to know what this princess looks like.

Ash tapped the end of the pen against the notebook impatiently. She had never enjoyed describing herself, and even if she did have to, it was rare for her to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirrors so scarce in the orphanage. She pressed her lips together anxiously before rising and drifting to the other end of the recreation room, when a princess mirror lay. Its surface was scratched, the image blurred slightly, but it would have to do. As she peered at herself in the little toy, she nodded. Yes, she remembered now. She placed it back on the table quietly and began writing once more.

She's not elegant or beautiful, like most princesses are. Instead, she is very plain. Her hair is a single solid shade of dark brown, tresses falling in wide curls down to just below her shoulder blades. It's not the most managable hair in the world, but she's spent so long growing it out that she's terrified to cut it short. Besides, she likes her hair. It's really the only beautiful thing about her - silky, dark, and shimmering when it catches the light right. Her hair is the only thing about herself that she'll take pride in.

When all the things are starting over and your drowning under water
I'll get you out. Save you now.
When all your ways are finally over and you've got back out from under
Breathe in now. Safe unsound.

Personality goes here

All the worlds that you paint
Where everything is so perfect
Where your sun always shines forever without a fade away.

History goes here

So tell me, where's the truth in this lie?
You cant believe in this kind of life.
It's so unreal. So full of hurt, cries, and lies.

Codeword/Other goes here