LITTLE GRIM

06 THE POISONED APPLE EFFECT

ACT TEN        ETCH MY NAME IN YOUR BONES

The Kingdom seems to be most alive it has ever been upon the coming of the girl made out of silk. Serendipitous rose petals that kiss the air, the heavens made out of unprecedented hues of Adonis Blues, mulberries that bloom as they have never done before and do so beautifully. Flowers sprouting after having been plucked naked and devoured by the blood-hungry winter, the sun giving all it has like a last hungry prayer before downfall. Life beams from every murky crevice.

But most life seeps from the girl who seems to be the whisper of fresh air that entices strawberries to bloom, vices to fade, and beauty to scowl with envy.

And she whines a little with a furrow of her brows and a puckering of those rosebud lips of hers as she walks through the hallways to the side of Lady Pristine, "Must this really? Are there not more than enough young girls present?"

Sweet girl whom would rock the entire Kingdom soon enough with her lunatic tongue repeats her words and coats them with a sheer layer of dismay before she spits them out, as if she is not more than greedy to take an opportunity to grow closer to the Prince and all who surrounds him in her little paws. Perhaps, she thinks to herself, her wilderness of a mind roaring and blazing, should she give him enough of her buttercup smiles, he would give her her heart without her having to perform a single part of her plan.

Perhaps, crafting a crown for herself made out of his bones and his spit, would become easier than she would have thought. Perhaps.

The gentle bat of her eyelashes makes her look almost like a restless doe, Pristine notes when the younger girl looks up at her, the corners of her rouged mouth risen upwards and truly the center of the sun beneath dark skin and freckled flesh, "Yes, you must. The Queen has specifically requested for you. And most of all, the princess' girlfriends have come to visit her today, and I have heard they are especially curious to see whom is to carry the heir."

"Mm, I understand," Pearl nods, her honeyed skin appearing slick in the light that seeps through the colored windows of the hallways. From outside them, she hears roars of giggles of girls who are sweet and dainty, not like her - who spits venom that looks like strawberry juice and wants to put an end to the earths and all that roams around it.

Alas they further. The loud, lively atmosphere inside of the chamber had been almost infectious, warm and lively, only if little Pearl hadn't found all attention drawn to her own self. Girls who see revolution as sin and paint virtue on the palms of their hands sit giggling, but silence descends amongst them when she, closely bumbling behind her Lady Pristine, steps into the room. Pearl looks around herself: to see the Queen sitting before a canvas with pursed rosebud lips, Prince Helios tapping his foot impatiently as he sits next to Princess Evangeline whom is surrounded by companions of hers. They appear to have been discussing things of lesser importance whilst sipping of the most dulcet tea possibly imported from Evangelines homeland - Pearl imagines there is no better remedy against homesickness - and fiddling feminine, soft fingers with the lace doilies that lay atop the tables.

The Queen gives Pearl a grin - wild and toothy - with her head up and her eyes burning topaz fire, a gesture Pearl returns, but in a much less sincere manner. Politely, formally, some would describe stiffly, she bows to the Queen before elegantly, each step a dance of its own, striding toward the small stool before the window just like Pristine had instructed her. Her face is red-invested and supple like an overripe tomato, to-ma-to like the three freckles that like stars upon a clear nights sky are scattered across the flesh of her face, to-ma-to like the Princes head, heart, brain she wishes so desperately to have in her possession, on the tip of her tongue.