aria grace faircrown |. district one
Feb 22, 2014 11:11:40 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Feb 22, 2014 11:11:40 GMT -5
ARIA GRACE FAIRCROWN.
I am the White Queen. All hail.
I am more valuable than Mommy's extortionate but beautiful wedding ring. I am more valuable than any jewel, any antique painting. Money does not match my price. My parents adore me - after all, I'm their only daughter. I have two brothers, but they do not matter as much. I cast them aside because I am superior to them. I'm older, more beautiful, and much more precious than both of them combined. At least, that's what my parents told me.
If I wasn't precious, why would my parents lock me up?
I reside in a tower in my castle-like mansion. The inside is large and luxurious. A beautiful, periwinkle silken bed stands at the back of the room, where the windows are. There's not much natural light, so I have a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling that floods my gorgeous tower with light. The walls are painted dove-white, but I embellished the plain wall with gold roses, painted by hand by me. I painted a starry night sky on my ceiling, to add to the beauty of my room, and also to give me something to do.
A silver crown sits on my bedside table. I wear it in my tower, so I feel like a queen. I even have a white throne that's located on the opposite side of the room from my bed. It is made of a silver-white metal and it is decorated with pearls and crystals. There is white velvet cushioning on the back and the seat and the arm rests of my throne so I am comfortable sitting on it.
Velvety, light periwinkle carpets covers the ground, which feels like a firm cushion beneath my feet. White silken curtains are draped over the windows. An ebony dining table with ebony chairs is placed on the far left side of the room from my bed. I eat at the table when my parents come by with food. On the far right side of my room lies a bookshelf that contains endless rows of books, and next to it hangs a full-body mirror with a gold frame.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," I'll say into the mirror every morning as I brush my hair and admire myself. "Who is the fairest of them all?"
Oh, how I love hearing the sound of my own saccharine voice that's like a soft peel of bells.
Then I answer for the mirror in a deeper voice, "You, of course, Queen Aria Grace."
When I look in my "magic" mirror, I see someone small, who stands at about 5'3. Her limbs are lanky and she has a small chest and narrow hips (I hope to fix this when I'm eighteen with surgery). She has a few small, soft curves on her body that give her otherwise boyish body a more feminine look. She looks so fragile, like you could crush her between your fingers.
Her skin is as soft as a rose petal and as fair as ivory silk (she has barely seen the sun in her life). Her hair is like a long, dark river that starts at her scalp and flows down to her chest. A flaming pink color on her chinks brings color to her face, which would look sallow if her cheeks weren't so rosy. Her face is round and a button nose serves as a centerpiece for her beautiful face.
The girl's lips are pink and full and are usually defined by deep crimson red lipstick. Her eyes are the same shape as her face (round) and the irises are colored bright moss-green eyes. Streaks of greenish yellow brighten those moss-green eyes and make them pop out among her pale skin and dark hair. As if her eyes don't stand out enough, they are framed by ridiculously curly dark eyelashes.
Everything about her screams delicate.
I am delicate on the inside and out. I was raised to be delicate. My parents never let me out of their sight when I was out of my tower. They even escort me to and from school every morning and afternoon, and I hold a lacy umbrella above my head to keep my skin from sun damage. I like to keep it flawless, not a freckle in sight. My face cannot be marred by sun damage, whether it's a little tan, a freckle, or a sunburn.
I cover up every inch of skin that's not my hands, my neck, or my face. I dress modestly in expensive dresses that usually feature lace or some kind of expensive, luxurious fabric. I am never seen in public without accessories or the most beautiful designer shoes money can buy. I dress like the delicate, rich girl that I am.
I'm not allowed to date, although I attract many pairs of eyes from boys. I could have anyone I want, but my parents will never allow me, their precious daughter, to even touch a teenage boy. Other than my brothers, I have never come into physical contact with boys. My parents let me have friends, but we can never visit outside of school, and they must all be girls and come from respectable families.
I have always wondered what my parents are so afraid of. But over the years, I figured it out: they don't want their pure little daughter to be muddled by the outside world. And I do what they want me to, so I stayed cooped up in my tower with nothing but my paintbrush, mirror, and books to occupy me. I have stayed pure, but what will happen when I turn eighteen, and I can move out? I can't stay in my tower forever.
I suppose it's sad that I've never had a great relationship with my family. I've been locked away, concealed from everyone, in a tower my whole life, so how could I grow a bond with my family? They would like me if they got to know me. I have so many jokes to tell but no one to tell them to, so I say them to my mirror. They would like my upbeat attitude and my politeness. They would like how ladylike I am. They wouldn't look down on my selfishness and insecurity. Selfishness and insecurity is a side effect of beauty, Mommy told me. She taught me to be gentle, and that violence is not the answer. Although, I may not know Mommy well, I have learned a lot from her.
"Ladies do not start fights, they only end them," Mommy told me when I was a child.
Because she wanted me to grow up to be a kind, gentle woman (and I did grow up to be a kind, gentle woman), Mommy never let me train for the Hunger Games. She said it was absurd to think that I would be Reaped. She said, "No, not my precious darling. No daughter of mine will be Reaped."
She never said, "No son of mine will be Reaped."
I may be cut off from the world, but I know that my brothers are different from me. They seem aggressive, from what I can hear from downstairs. I have heard the clang of weapons and the yells of my brothers as they practiced fighting. They're Careers, but I'm not. They are named Alexander and Austell. I know that I have an older sister named Albany, but I am unsure if she is a Career or not. I only hear her demanding screams and tantrums.
Mommy only wants to protect me. Mommy doesn't want to protect them. I am her stars, her moon, her sun.
I am her everything.
+ + +
name: aria grace elizabeth faircrown.
age:
gender: female.
location: district one.
face claim: india eisley.
codeword: odair.
