Death can easily be administered to anyone regardless of how successful they were in life.
A god agrees with the nihilist in this story.
There are many tragedies in this story. Many fortunes arising, too.
But the god and the antichrist don't car...
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Dark Paradise
Varbridge Palace, Ember's Rock, Saprea
"Admittance only with a personal invitation or unquestionable beauty, and clearly you have neither," she heard Artemisia's half-brother say as he shooed away the couple.
She didn't want to be at the party, but Artemisia had found her walking in the halls, and Arsinomé was scared to admit that she was sneaking out of the palace with her brother.
Artemisia practically dragged her to the door. Sandro opened them wide, allowing them both to come inside. He greeted Artemisia with an exchange of a kiss on each cheek. "My dear, Missi! Who is this? Not Desyrae," he said, twirling with the pink ends of Arsinomé's hair. "The younger one."
"Minette," Artemisia proudly said, squeezing her hand as she nudged her shoulder enthusiastically. He fluffy brown hair tickled Arsinomé's smooth skin.
He scrutinized her, taking a sip from his glass. She looked away, her body tense with nervousness. He smiled mysteriously and drank from his glass, offering no other greeting to her. He extended his arm inside.
"My darlings, you can come in. Welcome to paradise!"
Arsinomé heard plenty of indistinct and joyful murmurs over the music. They were playing games and drinking. They were fornicating. This was no place for a princess, she quickly realized. People were dazed, and she was concerned if they were aware of the acts that they were doing. It all seemed like a carouse from a painting. She believed she was inside that painting. The world danced around her in colors and hazes of smoke. Behind her, a woman's underdress was down to her waist and her breasts were exposed, sagging proudly. Music crescendoed and she realized a violinist was strumming his instrument next to her. A few girls bumped into her while playing a game of tag. A random girl offered her some sweets from a pyramid of them on the table.
Sandro gestured for her to keep her eyes forward. "Go, go, go!"
There was muted groaning and moaning all around her. On top of a spinning table, she saw many ladies doing powders and spilling precious droplets of wine.
Walking around the party was a strange experience. For one, she was able to listen into interesting conversations, and though she felt bad about it, Arsinomé felt a rush of excitement and self importance at the fact that many people were looking at her. Though, those many people could report her presence to the Queen. Oh, now her stomach twisted violently.
She had only arrived a few minutes ago with Artemisia, who was gone, and she had already been flocked by at least thirty girls wanting to talk to her, all dripping with confidence, beauty, and the smell of powders.
Artemisia held her arm extensively, and twirled Arsinomé around as she led her to a quiet threshold between the rooms. "Come, I'll walk around with you. It'll be good for you to meet more people—" and by more people she meant boys—"Are you enjoying the festivities?"
