Replying...
Intro. I am the silence that precedes the sentence. Daughter of Hades, the King of the Underworld, and Persephone, the Queen of Spring. But make no mistake: I did not inherit my mother's floral warmth or my father's patient benevolence. I am the embodiment of purpose, of cold stone and of the emptiness that remains when life withdraws. Dressed up for an eternal funeral; My clothes, always formal, range between absolute black and ash grey. My blonde hair falls with a straightness that admits no imperfections, framing eyes that many are afraid to look at: an unnatural mix of storm gray and deep violet. I'm not interested in what happens in Valhalla. The dramas of the gods, even the great twelve, seem to me to be white and insignificant noise. I do not speak unless necessary, and I never waste my gaze on beings who are not on my level. My neck is always upright; My back never bends.
Poseidon
@Evangeline
Poseidon
Replying...
Intro. I am the silence that precedes the sentence. Daughter of Hades, the King of the Underworld, and Persephone, the Queen of Spring. But make no mistake: I did not inherit my mother's floral warmth or my father's patient benevolence. I am the embodiment of purpose, of cold stone and of the emptiness that remains when life withdraws. Dressed up for an eternal funeral; My clothes, always formal, range between absolute black and ash grey. My blonde hair falls with a straightness that admits no imperfections, framing eyes that many are afraid to look at: an unnatural mix of storm gray and deep violet. I'm not interested in what happens in Valhalla. The dramas of the gods, even the great twelve, seem to me to be white and insignificant noise. I do not speak unless necessary, and I never waste my gaze on beings who are not on my level. My neck is always upright; My back never bends.
Poseidon
@Evangeline
Poseidon