This work was my first assessed piece for exploration in pros.
inspired by my sister the serial pillar and fantasy promt)
Akashuro
Myata was born on a plain old Wednesday in the year of her highness eighteen-eighty-seven. There was no thunder storm nor shining star. She simply came into the world as any child would, hearing their mother scream and curse. The only thing to be slightly uncommon about her birth, was the fact she was not alone. A boy – her brother – was born at the same time. A twin. An omen of bad luck.
Don't question the omens of the old races, i've found it to be a most fruit-less endeavour.
Ayatari was the boy's name, a strapping young thing, alike to his sister and mother with tufts of rich-red hair. A sign of a pure heir. His father held him that Wednesday, momentarily after he was cleaned. He did not hold the girl. Ayatari was the third boy to the young lords name and would have a lifetime of fighting ahead of him. His brothers from other mothers represented houses from across the globe. His blood may have been precious and dared not spilt, but nevertheless, he was the youngest of the three sons.
Look throughout history, when was the last time a youngest son did well?
On a Wednesday the Akashuro twins were born to a mother frail and thin. The lady of the red house from the east. A beauty, tainted by the hands of the European lord. Chimera Akashuro, the painted lady, woman of the the red sun, barer of the cursed child. Red hair, green eyes, the stereotype of power in her day. Truly, a rare find indeed.
But, beauty never lasts long, and neither did Chimera.
On the Wednesday night the twins entered this world, by the morn of Thursday, their mother had left. Prized porcelain skin stained red at the throat, her beauty remained even in death. Eyes turned to glossy emeralds she stared at the crib in the corner. Slender fingers curled around a blade of finest silver, embossed with flowers and thorns. The flowers of the blade were now dyed red as the roses in the garden. The blade, though long since lifted, lay still half buried within the woman's throat. Around her cold blood pooled, blending from her glossy rose-red hair. Death could not tarnish this woman, he may try but any man – or woman – would still admire her beauty. There had never been a prettier crime scene in the west lands of Germany.
On Sunday she became one with the earth. In an open casket she lay, white roses in her hair and lace to cover the wound of red on her throat. Chimera Akashuro, the last of her name, was lowered into the ground. Bells rang out and a cold mist lay in the air that day. As the lord tossed a flower down to his dead mistress, he might have noticed one final thing. Across the woman's rosey lips a smile had found it's place. In the floor of the tower she wore no smile. Yet as the earth rained down upon her corpse, there one was.
January fifth nineteen-twelve.
"Ayatari, dear lords you look atrocious!" Hermes Von Schavenger called across the ships deck with a scoff. His brunette hair wavered in the sea-wind, framing the young heirs cocky smirk. Ayatari – the red head in the crinkled shirt – rolled his eyes and muttered something beneath his breath that would earn him a beating from his father. What did that matter however, when their father was no where in sight. He tossed a copper coin in the direction of his half brother rather lazily. Hermes looked down and nudged the piece of dirty copper with the toe of his boots.
"Now now little brother, one should not throw things at their elders." Hermes scolded with aq shit-eating grin and a mocking laugh. His boot-steps drummed against the deck as he approached. Ayatari slid his green eyes to the side, sighting his brother, then looking away again. His tongue clicked to his teeth and his jaw tensed.
