LITTLE GRIM

02 THE FACES ON THE COINS

ACT THREE        DESCEND TO HELL

Tick, tick, tick - her mind counted.

Four days and sixteen hours had passed by like the wind along pink skin - and the time has come.

Pearl is clad in a dress a breath-taking lilac - a hue resembling the flowers that flourish on the fields near her home, that smell like heaven on earth - and her hair falls in thick tousles over her shoulders. The gown Juliette has permitted her to wear on a nightly occasion is beyond any other gown she has ever lay eyes on. It appears to have been made by five of the finest dressmakers of the kingdom - so delicate as though crafted by the hands of gods. Though perhaps vain or superficial, Pearls heart feels wholly warm. She feels her heart flourish when she looks in the mirror and eyes Juliette, features - otherwise tightened under a little frown - softening instantly.

  Juliette sits in front of the mirror where Pearl stands behind her, combing through her hair 'till it looks like captured light of the moon. Pearl has her face pure as it can be whilst Juliettes cheeks are tainted with rogue, rose tints on her lips, and both girls are so astoundingly beautiful they could pass as princesses of the fairest kind. "You're like a doll, the prettiest one out of a childs collection," Juliette comments per Pearl is invested in taming her locks of hair more carefully, causing the brunette maid to flush more brightly incarnadine - bringing her pretty face to life.

  "Oh, Juliette," Pearl rolls her eyes and places a kiss on the other girls neck so softly, Juliette is not used to it and, too, blushes a little red color beyond the one she applied there, "you should look at yourself. You are a true princess. I would wed you this very instant, truly. Any man or woman would be a fool not to."

  Juliette covers her face, "Oh, hush, you - before I shed a few tears and mess up all the work I've had on my face. You will not yearn to wed me if it goes all to waste, baby face."

  "Juliette-?" Pearl sits herself on her knees before Juliette and brings a dainty hand to her friends rosy cheek, smiling so brightly the stars are given no chance of competing with her, not even if they try their hardest, "thank you. I mean it. For helping me - I could not have attended without you, without this gorgeous dress you allowed me to wear. It's too good to be true - you are too good to be true. Jules, you are the best friend any girl could ask for."

  Juliette rolls her big eyes, "don't mention it, baby face. Anything for you. You know that."

ACT FOUR        FILTHY, NEVER FOOLISH

Pearl remembers her first violin like it had been yesterday. She remembers the faintest of the morning and standing with pearly eyes in front of the mirror, admiring the way her dark hair fell from her scalp in silky curls like gossamer thread, youthful features remaining endlessly tainted with a rosy blush - ah, such tedious family habit she had inherited from her father; one she would doom each and every day. She remembers her flourishing life as a child when her father was capable of working and bathed her in riches and luxuries only few townsfolk could afford . . . She remembers it so vividly.

Her father had purchased a violin for her when she was a blossoming seven years. She remembers how her pa had called for her with such sweet honey laced amidst his words. She can still see herself on that idle morning. Her, the doll - the one porcelain piece your grandmother has in her humble abode; the one you would be extra cautious with for it is far too pretty to taint with filthy fingertips, let alone break. Pearls whirling mind vaguely envisions the drawings of her hand that littered the walls. Picturesque images - that is, for a nine year olds - of her and her father, so pretty, so innocent, so... of the past. Such intent contrast to life as it is for Pearl today.