wolf teeth, lamb heart } brooke&kasper { blitz

She is made of various storms; her hair is like a wildfire and her skin's as cold as a blizzard — and it's a tragedy to be the daughter of Aphrodite and Icarus. She rises from the waters of her birth, clouds wrapping around her outstretched wrists and pulling her up into the aether with a whispered promise of hope, but the sun is not a forgiving creature. She burns alive before she can even reach her destination, ashes filling her throat and her body crashing back down to the sea. Her corpse is left watered by the waves, exposed ribs becoming a home to something more than herself — and from her skull grow roses.

Red;

the only thing her mother ever gave to her.

Atlas raised her well. He taught her how to carry the world and its burdens with a trained smile, but sometimes her shoulders crack under the weight and she falls down onto skinned knees. The fingers of her mother are locked with her own, the body of her father lying at her feet, and two of her sisters can be seen dancing in dresses of white satin across the way. She never got the chance to know any of them before they were taken from her — raised only by herself and a family that she had been pawned into. It's not that she isn't grateful for the Libertines, who provided her with a home and food and love after the loss of her original family, but she often wonders how her life could ever be called fair.

The Games took everything from her without giving her the chance to fight back; childlike eyes were covered by the hands of strangers and not told exactly why her mother wasn't coming home until she was almost too old to mourn for her. Death made his home inside of her and ghosts slid past her lips, making nests between her bones as if they were songbirds and she was a steady shelter. She's not — but she's good at pretending, a soft voice greeting all who meet her and a passion to her entirety that cannot be quelled. Lost girls aren't afraid of the forest. The lamb presents herself to the wolves, bare and white, and they allow her to run with them.

Her feet are raw as she walks. She knows that Four's dark alleyways are not the safest of places to visit, but they comfort her. There's an adrenaline that keeps her going, a need to check around every corner that reminds her that she's alive, and it's a good feeling. She doesn't like being alone, and the sensation of being watched is one that she seeks out. An itch runs across her freckled skin, and she turns to peer over her shoulder with a grin at the ready. The shadows are familiar, but she doesn't give them faces. She's older now — harder.

"Hello?" she asks with a playfulness, glancing over the space and searching for its hidden beasts. "You can come out. I'm nothing to be afraid of."

She exhales;

— "Are you?"

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