Normal text
Thinking
OnomatopoeiaAstaroth's POV
Astaroth headed downstairs with an expressionless face. It seemed like her dream had taken quite a while since the rest were already gathered for breakfast. Ignoring the fearful beating of her heart, she sat at a corner and drank whatever was in front of her. The air was eerily still. Astaroth was on pins and needles, trying to think of how to bring up her request."Princess—"
"I want to go to Valoran City. There's an amusement park there."
She had read about this magical park. Apparently, it's a larger version of a playground. A place filled with fun and entertainment. On the other hand, Piltover has none of that. It's all just machinery and heavy industries. As dull as life. Valoran City might not possess the groundbreaking technology of hextech, but somehow, their quality of life was so much better. There were no nobility and whatnot. No division of two vastly different social classes and infighting. Basically, this fairytale-like place blew the progressive city out of the water. It's a superior version of Piltover. So Astaroth wanted to see it with her own eyes. However, the question wasn't much about this but whether the others would agree after her unreasonable outburst yesterday.
"How dare you think of wasting time on such trivial matters?!"
What if they now think birthdays were actually insignificant after all? What if they say no?
Please don't change your mind...
Hiding her quivering voice behind a flat tone, she continued, "If you don't want to go, that's also fine."
Please go...
Fortunately, Astaroth didn't have to wait long with bated breath.
"Oki! So, when are we going?" the rogue eagerly jumped up.
"Now," Astaroth whispered, almost in disbelief, "no need to wear thick clothes. It's not snowing there."
Before she went upstairs, Ahri called out, "Happy birthday, Asta."
Thump. Thump.
Emotions overwhelmed her. It made her heart tingle with happiness. It took her 18 years of continuous disappointment. 18 years of her tiresome life to be able to hear this for the first time. And it felt so... gratifying. It was as wonderful an experience as she had hoped it would be. It made the waiting all the more worth it. Astaroth wanted to listen to more of this. If she lived for another year, would she have the chance to hear this phrase again?
Amidst more embarrassing birthday wishes, she fled upstairs, murmuring, "Get ready first. We will be late at this rate."
After all preparations were done, the group was teleported straight to what seemed like a place for foreigners to gather. People were walking around carrying heavy suitcases and duffel bags. Cold wind blasted her face as she took in the strange new world.
A loud announcement was blaring in the air, "I repeat. This is the final boarding call for flight 372A. Thank you."
Unlike Piltover, the air here smelled fresh and clean. There's no constant stink of industrial oil and metal. The place was brightly lit with patterned marble floors that reflected their silhouettes. An eye-catching wall of water stood at the centre while various indoor shops scattered the area. They were on ground level, which made the already high ceiling all the more towering. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows lined the second floor. There were enormous glaring panels of moving images. Pictures of stunning women holding all sorts of cosmetic products were plastered everywhere. That was the one thing that had shocked Astaroth the most. Weren't women useless and a disgrace to society? Then why were their photos pasted everywhere??? What the hell was this sorcery???
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Beneath The Surface
FanfictionAstaroth. The cursed name given to a little girl whose birth is everything wrong for the people around her. According to them, nothing about her is right. She's the very embodiment of a flawed subject. Someone who didn't deserve to live. And that's...