It makes her sick, the way sadness is addicting. Sadness is familiar. It's comfortable and it's easy in the sense that it comes naturally to her. But everything else about it is hard. The way her body aches with self-hatred. The way her mind spins a...
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Asgardian parties were one of Athalia's favourite things. She hadn't been able to properly enjoy one in so long. She liked getting dressed up, dancing until her feet were sore, having fun with her friends, and laughing at their stories.
Athalia had been getting ready in her room. The sun starting to set. Through her large windows, she looked out to the open sky. She watched as the clouds slowly moved, then stars pecking through with the many other moons and plants. The sky flashed many different colours, dark blues, oranges, pinks, and purples.
She had shifted out of her armor, her magic making it disappear and change into a long purple and black dress. The dress dragged along the floor, purple flowers embroidered all around the bottom. From the neck down to her waist, the fabric of the dress was black with gold and purple embroidered flower patterns. Athalia wore a corset underneath the dress, making the dress wrap tighter around her chest, making it uncomfortable to breathe in when sitting down, but after a few drinks, she'd be fine. The black fabric faded into a light purple before changing into deep purple and the bottom. Flowy sleeves draped over her shoulders, down her left arm.
Athalia added her silver rings, stacking them on her fingers. Some had small bands and others were more chunky, those typically held gemstones. She normally doesn't wear them because Odin used to always share his opinion on them, but at this point, she thought that a few rings weren't going to be a big deal seeing as one of his sons is locked in the dungeons.
Before her final decoration, her tiara, Athalia needed to do something with her hair. The goddess sat on a cushioned stool at her white, wooden vanity, that had a vase of white and pink lilies in the corner next to her jewelry box and stared at herself in her reflection as she brushed out her hair. Normally, in a royal family, Athalia would have maids to do this type of job however the princess didn't like the idea of people helping her get dressed when she was perfectly capable of doing it herself.
As she got lost in thought, the bristles of her hairbrush combing through her hair, Athalia started at the healed scars on her face. It was like she could still feel the sting from the claws cutting into her skin. The idea of the blood rolling down her face, down her shoulder and chest, over her arms made her shiver. She dropped the brush, the sound echoing around the quiet room, feeling the burning pain on her side again. The wound she'd gotten in New York.
What was happening to her? Why did this affect her so much? Athalia had been in many battles, winning most if not all of them. How come these two affect her so terribly and not the others? Perhaps it was because those left a scar, unlike the other times were she was left untouched. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because those injuries were caused by her brothers and their egos and self-obsession with winning.
Athalia picked up the brush she'd dropped on the ground, meeting her eyes again in her reflection. She noticed a tear that slipped from her eye, which she'd quickly whipped away. She needed to get out of her head, maybe this party was going to be just the thing she needed. Athalia decided to leave her hair as it was, in the brushed-out look. Her brushed-out curls gracefully rolled down her back like waves on the ocean.
