I’m a princess of sorts, with silver on my wrists and gold on my head, walking in starlight and scarlet, walking common streets before a trail of raven hair. Confidence: confidence is key. Heels click on harsh pavement and I keep my chin up, I keep my shoulders back, I keep my eyes trained on the horizon and never on my own feet. Hearts beat and footsteps click and doors open to reveal new sounds of people and music before closing again. It’s dark, and figures hide in the shadows, but I do not fear them, because I am also a warrior. My footwear covers as much skin as possible, armour covers my chest. I fight with my hands and the strength that always finds them, I battle bearing weapons of truth. Sweat, often sweat, often blood, I am not your kind of princess. I have no time for weak ankles or delicate wrists, no time for fancy gowns that will only tear, not in this world, the world of men and crime. My home is different. There I am a princess, and every princess is a warrior.
