"TALES OF SHADOWS, TALES OF BEASTS, UNRAVEL AS THE SHADOW SPEAKS"
Aeraji; the continent of magic, the mother of legends, old and new. A place where gods and heroes, monsters and witches are very much real. Despite hailing from foreign grounds Arden...
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ARDEN HAD ORNAMENTS FOR her necklace amounting to twice the years she'd lived.
The circus never stayed in one place - not for long periods of time - and, soon enough, the leather cord around her neck was nearly full of her memoirs. Each surface sported a different - suitable for every area - design; bears for the Setka region, tribal patterns for Jeaunu, elaborate golden swirls atop imperial scarlet for Parseh. Few were from the lands out of the continent with arrays of birds - exotic or not - or saints, religious signs and elborate masks. But those were not many since those trips were few and far between - they were always too expensive and time-consuming.
A bead from Jaltterjen would probably make a fine addition to her collection; a fancy one probably, all shiny and intricate designs desplaying the wealth of the city. Jaltterjernan merchants were the kings of Soljier's economy and trade - at least according to Yekker.
Arden pushed the tangled white curls of her wig back, careful not to brush her hands against her clown-painted face. The damned thing had been on her head for hours, the harsh hairs shaped into an abudance of spring-like curls scratching at her forehead and cheeks. No matter how many times she'd tried to tame it, the hairs still bothered her - too dry, too wild and untamable.
Yekker wanted a show - something the people, the wealthy merchants of Jaltterjen would find worthy of their attention. To parade through the gates of the city. She'd march, she'd jump, she'd entertain. She'd give them a taste - a sample for the real show.
Moments like these she felt nothing more than some sort of doll on a pedestral.
"Careful," Imari warned her as she pushed the white locks for - probably - the fifteenth time. "You're gonna ruin your makeup. And I'm not holding the mirror again for you to redo it. My arms still feel stiff from before."
"Oh poor you, won't you ever forgive me for the agony my decisions have caused you?" she sneered, fingers still fighting with the white locks. She huffed. "I wish I could just burn the damn wig."
The boy rolled his eyes, the dark valley of his eyebrows shaking with the movement. "You can't just set everything that annoys you on fire."
Arden gave him a flat stare.
The audacity.
A sardonic smile took over her lips, the challenge visible in her gaze. Watch me, her eyes told him. The curls kissed the sharpness of her cheekbones like poisonous snakes.
"You'd be surprised to know how many things are actually flammable."
Really, he ought to know her better.
Imari shuddered. Her eyes roamed, took in his face. Obsidian hair, colourless like a raven's feathers, curled about a pair of dark eyes, which would be considered somewhat pretty - dark, endless and chaotic - if it weren't for the ugly purple bruises around them. Usually, after all, while Arden buried herself underneath blankets, listening to the tired beat of her heart until darkness overtook her, Imari would stay up, eyes wide, mind restless.
