ᴡᴍᴍᴀᴘ: ℌ𝔢𝔯 𝔊𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔫 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰

Noir depravity: the Hierophant

🄳-4

Athanasia looked up from her not-so interesting book on the valuable commodities of mining, taking note of Claude's wrinkled forehead, and it made her giggle- that someone like him could look so human at times like this. 

She went over, leaving her book face down on the nightstand and her feet padded over the glossy marble, reaching his side in a matter of moments. She had just reached out her hand to poke the furrow of his eyebrows, a tiny, teasing grin on his face.

"What are you doing, hmm?" She smiled as she sat across from him, holding open a different book, one on languages that was more to her fancy. "Reading, of course~" 

He chuckled quietly at himself, letting his own book flip shut as he picked up something else to do as he thinks of how his life had been when she wasn't by his side. 

He picks up the imperial seal and rolls it between his fingers as he ponders, the sun touching upon his hair as his half closed eyes blink slowly, a dragon basking in the sun.

He couldn't really remember them anymore. Nor did he want to.

But one person is trying to make sure that happens.

With the thick headed mentality, that if Athanasia could have the opportunity to do it, so could she, as she is ever sanctimonious. Jennette fails even before she gets through the doors.

Jennette crawled to the opening between her cell bars, and with her motive, set in stone- she tugged at the guard's sleeve, "I need to go to the bathroom.." On the way there, her hands and feet tied with rope instead of the usual shackles as the knights moved in a tight knit group to shove her into the bathroom and stood guard outside. 

What they didn't know is that she had incentive enough to untie herself, risking and experiencing rope burn as she did so, and she shimmied under the sinks to dislodge the vent's cover and slipped her malnourished body through them. 

With the thick headed mentality, that if she has the means- the stolen knife strapped to her stomach-she could end "Eternal life". She fails even before she gets through the doors.

For she doesn't know those guards were planted there before hand. They were never so ignorant as to just let someone like her go. She has always been mistaken.

Jennette had rinsed off her face, inwardly bemoaning her newest scars from her latest whipping, and she craned her neck around to see the lash marks upon her pale skin on her back, her arms, the backs of her legs- she wasn't flawless anymore, and she gnashed her teeth in rage at the sight. 

She tore up her dress and had made it to those old doors, those doors she had peeked through that one night. That night her head had felt as if it would tear in two.

A stretched grin upon her face, some eerie semblance to Athanasia's usual cheery disposition as she sneaks in through the ornate doors to where Athanasia would be laying in slumber. She's only thinking with her heart, and if it to gain love and authority, she would gladly kill the heir to the throne, would happily murder Athanasia while defenseless, and in the midst of sleep.

 Becoming the heir of the Imperial throne was the only thing worth living for- if she couldn't gain familial love, she would make sure Athanasia wouldn't have it any longer. Her hands clasped the knife that had made its way into her cell, the one she had squirreled away past her ropes. 

Nothing else mattered, but for Jennette to become the sole object of affection in her father's eyes, as long as she could get rid of Athanasia who was always, always standing in her way, she would be able to win it all. Jennette's daydreams have finally spiraled out of control.