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" were you looking for me, princess? "
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"my home is a country that reveres true beauty and elegance. some people from other countries may find our dress sense showy andimpractical; but for us, there is nothing more commonplace."
fontaine... home, and the land of the sea.
fontaine was your home, the place of elegance and divinity; beauty and grace. it was the city of ballroom dances; waltz, beauty within masks, and beauty within red lipstick and mascara.
hidden behind masks of the masquerade balls held every night; the people of fontaine never ceased to exist amongst each other. enemy against enemy; friend to friend; nobody knew each other, for everyone was a mystery once the lights dimmed and the curtains fell.
the beauty of this dangerous night filled your stomach with dark butterflies. your gentle soft blue eyes hidden behind the black masquerade mask that covered half of your face with dark feathers of ravens; your fan providing you just enough wind to get by the humid night of the ball.
the rich; the wealthy; oh everyone, was welcome to the ball. fontaine was a special place, and everyone in teyvat was welcomed to dance and drink; if the drinks weren't already poisoned.
the dark purple snake around your neck slowly slithered around and brought its head to your ear and hissed, earning your attention.
"your highnesssss, it would ssssseem like all the guesssssstssss have finally arrived~"
you rubbed the top of your pet snakes' head, slowly rising from your throne. you flipped open your dark fan, and feathers fell from the tips of it; your bloody red lipstick hid away the cruel and pain, and your smile shone under the chandeliers.
your dress was the most stunning of the ballroom, and despite being the princess under the archon of fontaine, you held no lies; no bounds. your words were sincere, deadly, and always poisonous to the core. nobody dared speak to you, for if they were to try to reason with you, your pet snake would decide to nab and nibble.
dress as silky as spider webs; black and darkness looming the entirety of the whole gown; heels as sharp as the spears of any polearm, you waltzed your way to the top of the grand golden steps, overlooking the ballroom of many masked figures.
