#oc: vesta ambrosius

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HUNT for the ask game!

for this ask game.

HUNT - What piece of media, excluding books, inspires you most?

deeeefinitely plays. shakespeare's tragedies in particular have had a massive impact on my writing. i don't do retellings, but i intentionally reference a particular shakespeare play in each one of my works. vesta's backstory in blood of gods is highly inspired by romeo and juliet, with the dialogue one of my favorite scenes in the book being directly ripped from the play (albeit modernized + changed to fit the context). the parents of eudossia from the iron crown are not-so-subtly meant to be lorenzo and jessica from the merchant of venice (which... technically isn't a tragedy but IT IS TO ME!!) there are also just a lot of hamlet parallels in everything i write.

beyond intentional references, the tropes i'm naturally drawn to writing commonly show up in shakespeare's tragedies. court intrigue, fucked-up families, tragic love affairs, themes of revenge and ambition, etc. basically i imprinted onto hamlet as a depressed eighth grader and my writing has never been the same since.

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💘 Romantic Snippet Tag 💘

Rules: Describe the main romance of your WIP in a 1-4 sentence snippet.

Tagged by @nectargrapes! Thank you :)

Vesta wished with all her heart that she were a man, and that she were stronger, so that she might be able to protect Ashala, and in return Ashala would love her.

But Vesta was no man. She was a woman, and a very bad one at that. She was sure her life had inflicted misery far more than it had ever inflicted joy. But if she could manage to make Ashala feel safe for once, then maybe, just maybe, she had a reason not to hate herself.

Tagging @muddshadow @lockejhaven @ceph-the-ghost-writer @oh-no-another-idea @hartlow @thepixiediaries

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Heads Up, Seven Up

tagged by @ceph-the-ghost-writer. thanks for the tag! <3

How to play: Post 7 lines from a WIP. Tag (if you'd like) 7 other people.

excerpt from blood of gods draft 3

“No,” Vesta said. “This isn’t about me at all. I know what you are, Ashala.”

She swallowed, attempting to steady her breath. “Oh?”

“You’re a sadist. You like seeing people suffer, no matter who they are. When you went to Aradi, you must have known that the information you gave could mean the end of countless Centiclarian lives.”

Ashala wiped her eyes, fighting off the last of her giggles. Then her face fell. “I was starving, Vesta. Finding those bodies saved my life. I took my money where I knew I could get it. I won’t pretend I didn’t know what he wanted to do with it. It was more important that I could live to see the next winter solstice. And I’m not sorry I did it.”

Vesta cocked her head. “Don’t you think that was an incredibly selfish thing to do? To sacrifice the lives of the thousands of Salisian soldiers that may die in this war so that you may live a little while longer?”

“Well,” Ashala said. “It was pretty selfish of you to start it.”

Vesta went silent, her eyes falling to the floor. “Perhaps we have something in common, then.”

“No,” Ashala said. “We have nothing in common.”

Tags

@muddshadow @oh-no-another-idea @westywrites @thepixiediaries @coffeewritesfiction @hartlow @ryns-ramblings

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🩸Blood of Gods Character Profiles🩸

I made some character profiles for the Blood of Gods cast inspired by @aninkwellofnectar's! This has fun little pieces of information about most of the main cast of BOG save for Ivren, who I could not manage to find a good faceclaim or illustration for.

Enjoy!

[tragicbackstoryenjoyer]

For the whumpy writer's block ask game:

🧿 Whether you actually get there or not, what are your hopes for your OC's future?

Ask game linked here. I suppose I'll answer it for Blood of Gods, because WIP has a purposely ambiguous ending.

I hope that Ashala gets to live a long, boring life. That she lives on with her family for the rest of her life in some small town, facing minor inconveniences but no great political unrest. I hope she gets married, raises children, and dies of old age, having been surrounded her entire life by people who are willing to put in the work to take care of her.

Vesta is left in arguably the most precarious position by the end of the book, so mainly I hope that she LIVES. I hope that she remains in a position in which she can affect positive political position, and that that position isn't corrupted or lost along the way. I'd also like her to find love, but IMO that's secondary both to me and her.

[tragicbackstoryenjoyer]

2, 5, and 15 for Vesta

@bloodlessheirbyjacques 👀

2. What do strangers notice about them first?

The first thing stranger would notice about Vesta would be her mask, which indicates her to be one of the holy Descendents. Although from a different angle they may just note her fine and expensive clothing first. All of this, of course, enhancing her physical beauty.

5. Do they have a “tell” for when they’re lying?

Vesta doesn't lie if she can help it, so when she does they tend to be lies of omission rather than direct lies. Either way, she'll tend to get very distant when she does it, and her voice takes on a flat, emotionless intonation.

15. Are their greatest flaw and their greatest strength related and in what way? (ie very caring and helpful but a doormat, or very observant and shrewd but often paranoid)

Vesta's greatest strength is that she, in the words of Anais Mitchell, "can see how the world can be, in spite of the way that it is." She's intelligent and observant and, when she's at her best, a good person. She tried to use her power to make the world a better place once, but it only served to cause one of the most bloody incidents in recent years. This causes her greatest flaw: she is so consumed in guilt and grief that she is too afraid to speak up or do anything anymore.

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Hello and happy STS! :D Dropping by because you reblogged that one post about the fantastic STS question, soooo: If your main characters were sucked into our world, The Devil Is a Part-Timer-style (i.e., dropped into our world without the resources/status they had in theirs, transformed into basically human with no powers, and the only thing they've got are the clothes on their back and their memories), how well would they fare? What would they do to survive, who's failing at adapting and how, and most importantly, who is working at McDonald's?

(Answering for Blood of Gods!)

Here's the thing: I think any of them would be lucky to work at McDonalds. None of them speak English, or any other language spoken on earth, and coming from a world with a technology level roughly akin to the late 15th century, they'd be completely out of their depths in terms of modern conveniences.

Ashala's a decent healer, but again modern medicine is WAY different (and far more effective) than anything she knows. She's probably scrappy enough that, provided she learn English, she could peddle her skills towards the anti-vaxx mom types, but she'd think of them as complete idiots the entire time.

Within the world of Ya'krath, Vesta is objectively more skilled than Ashala. She's knowledgeable about history and politics, is a good fighter, and above all is magical. But in our world, which has a different history and different politics, where guns have been popularized above swords, and where using her magic would probably get her experimented on, that's all rendered moot. However, she's learned many languages, and that would at least help her learn English faster.

But despite all this... part of me thinks they'd be a little happier in our world? Ashala hates her world for reasons that wouldn't necessarily be present in ours. Vesta struggles with guilt over the war going on and dread for her future, neither of which are concerns in our world. I wouldn't consider it a happy end, exactly, but they'd manage.

[tragicbackstoryenjoyer]

WIP Introduction: Blood Of Gods

a dark, sapphic, adult political fantasy novel

Blurb

Ashala av Khilaya is a Mystite; one of the last followers of humanity’s ancient religion. When noblewoman Amata Ambrosius is murdered by foreign infidels, the king declares a holy war and violently expels the Mystites. The act leaves Ashala orphaned and forced into hiding, nursing a dream of retribution. Alas, a dirt-poor peasant like her could never touch the high, holy king.

But when Ashala finds Amata’s corpse hidden in the wilderness, she finds no evidence of foreign involvement. Instead, all signs point to Vesta, Amata’s twin sister and the king’s betrothed. Desperate to keep her deception hidden, Vesta strikes a deal that changes Ashala’s world forever.

In exchange for her silence, Ashala is knighted. Gifts of fame, fortune, and the king’s audience are promised to her. All the while, she finds herself further drawn into Vesta’s dangerous and captivating web of intrigue. However, if Ashala fails to hide her past amongst her oppressors, a death worthy of a heretic awaits her.

In order to exact revenge, Ashala must first survive- lest the bloody politics of the king’s court kill her before she gets the chance.

Themes

revenge, forbidden love, religion, oppression & solidarity, grief, and war.

Excerpt

Ashala reached a hand under her straw-filled pillowcase and procured a single copper coin. Enough to buy her a single meal, maybe more. Even in her starved state, she had no intention of spending it. For on the coin’s face was minted a profile of King Lucius Caelus. She no longer prayed. Instead, every night and every morning, Ashala would stare at that coin and fantasize about choking him out as he begged for mercy. She drew a fingernail across his neck, imagining the heat of his blood spilling out upon her hands.

She had spent enough years blaming herself for what happened. It just happened to be that Lucius Caelus was the one to carry out such divine injustice, all to earn quick money to fund a war with the Saarun Empire that had been fought a hundred times before.

But when Ashala had saved his life all those years ago, King Lucius had inadvertently incurred a debt. A debt of blood; a debt that only he could pay to her. She had given him the gift of life, and it was her right to take it back. She could never reverse the fates of his countless victims, nor could she reverse her own. But she could reverse his. If only she knew how to.

Status

4th draft/beta reading

Taglist (ask to be added or removed)

@sir-galahadnt @dropsoftheuniverse

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Friday Kiss Tag Game

tagged by @italiangothicwriteblr! thank you! this excerpt is less of a romantic kiss persay, and more of an accolade as Ashala is knighted. featuring a snippet of one of my many conlangs!

Tags

@ashen-crest @cherrybombfangirlwrites @tc-doherty @flowerprose @quilloftheclouds @thepixiediaries

Vesta made her way towards the front of her room, where the king’s throne stood, illuminated by moonlight through a window. She did not stand in front of his throne, but the smaller throne behind it, reserved for the queen. She was to stand, not sit, for she was not the queen. Not yet. The room fell silent, and she beckoned Ashala forth.

Ashala approached the steps before falling to her knees at Vesta’s feet. One must never bow to anyone but Ahara. Especially a kmiyat. Ashala looked up at the golden woman who stood before her, and clasped her hands in feigned reverence. From the hands of a servant, Vesta procured a long, silver blade made of the finest iron. On its length was a carving in Ebruun runes, the ancient language the Ancestors had spoken.

“The blade of Vittolia Commodus, the Swordmaiden of the late Queen Victricia Cato.” Vesta raised it above her head for all to see before closing her eyes. “Cu mi einaterrar aum Ashala cri Corovia quel duid mustau. Frem duid va.” She opened her eyes again, and the blade ignited.

Even Ashala could not look away, even though it burned her not to turn. She was more brilliant than the sun itself, and twice as painful. Vesta quivered against the burning blade in her hands.

“Ashala of Corovia,” she called out. “Do you pledge yourself as a Swordmaiden to the Descendents of Cato and Corvinus, to guard and to serve?”

“I swear it.”

“Do you pledge yourself as a worshiper to the Hundred Ancestors, to honor and to venerate?”

She only hesitated for a moment. “I swear it.”

“Do you pledge yourself as a companion to me, to protect and to love?”

Ashala's mouth went dry. She looked to Vesta, heart pounding as she felt the stares of the guests on her back. For a brief moment, their eyes met.

“Yes,” Ashala said. “Upon the Ancestors, I swear it.”

“Then in the name of my Ancestors, I name you my knight and Swordmaiden.” She brought the hilt of the sword into the palm of her hand with the skill of a woman who knew the weapon well. The flames died out, and quickly the heat did as well. Ashala inclined her head, the room too quiet in reverence to even breathe. Warm metal came down upon her right shoulder, and then her left. Vesta retracted the blade, holding it above her head one last time, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Ashala’s forehead. Her soft lips lingered against her skin for a moment longer than they needed to before Vesta withdrew, leaving the echo of a kiss. She reached around Ashala’s waist and around it tied the sword. Her sword.

“Rise,” she announced. “Ser Ashala.” Bound to her for life, for better or for worse.

Ashala did as she said, turning to face the gathered crowd with heat high in her cheeks. She trembled under the weight of their stares. She was no warrior. No protector. No Swordmaiden. All she was was a liar. A dirty, heathen liar.

But, if nothing else, she was a good one.

[tragicbackstoryenjoyer]

Character Introduction: Vesta Corvinus

19 years old. pale and full-figured, very long wavy blonde hair, amber eyes, fine features, and an ornate mask that always covers the top of her face. the deuteragonist.

Excerpt

“Once we win this war- and we will win this war- we will return to this great city and take this beautiful, honorable woman to be our queen and the mother of a new Salisia.” The King spread his arms, smiling. “Good citizens, your future queen, and the most beautiful woman in all our kingdom, Her Worship Vesta Corvinus.”

The great, black doors that guarded the entrance to the Palace opened to reveal a woman made of gold. Lucius was much too far away to see in any detail, but Vesta, who ascended onto the platform, now covered with a fine carpet that rolled out in front of each of her steps by guards, was visible in all her glory. Close enough to touch, her pale skin seemed to be decorated with all the riches of Salisia itself. The rich brocade of her dress, from the puffed shoulders to the train that fell to the ground, was a rich, if untimely, ebony black. Rich strands of pearls fell across her breast, and the mask that hid all but her crimson lips was embedded with rubies. Thick hair like hand-spun flax fell in great, loose waves down past her waist. Ashala’s heart seized in her chest. Lucius was a liar on every account, but he did not exaggerate her beauty. His words seemed too simple, too quick, to truly describe a woman who seemed nothing less than the finest de Filagro portrait come to life. Vesta held her head high and did not smile as she looked out over the sea of those she would rule soon enough, the perfect picture of royalty.

The people gasped and cooed with wonder, but for Ashala, to look upon her was sickening. Even her beauty, won by a life of privileged leisure, was a foul thing to gaze upon. If the war that drove Ashala’s people from their homes and killed her family was in the name of Amata Corvinus, Vesta had to be her sister. If she remembered correctly, her twin, younger by only a few minutes. While wars were started in her family’s name and the citizens of her country starved to death, Vesta paraded around a city of drunkards adorned in more wealth than this entire city was worth. She’d be perfect for him, Ashala thought. The king who killed and the queen who ate of the winnings. Ashala thought that if she killed King Lucius with the first bolt of her crossbow, she’d use the second to kill her.

Description

Vesta Corvinus is said to be a pure-blooded Descendent of the Hundred Ancestors, the gods that most of Salisia worship. Though granting her immense religious authority and the power to conjure fire from thin air, she must wear a mask over her face at all times as a reminder to others of her holiness.

Due to being from a less prominent Descendent family, she was initially trained to be the Swordmaiden, or female knight, of her twin sister, Amata. But when Amata was killed, kicking off the war between Salisia and the Saarun Empire, Vesta was betrothed to King Lucius Cato. While well-loved by the Salisian people, a few suspect the extent of her involvement in Amata's death.

Taglist (ask to be added or removed)

@sir-galahadnt @dropsoftheuniverse @ladywithalamp @ashen-crest @laufire-writes

[tragicbackstoryenjoyer]

For the character you wrote about the most recently👀

3. What makes your character’s skin crawl?

6. What is your character’s fondest memory?

12. Who had the most negative impact on your character’s life?

22. What is your character most afraid of?

@bloodlessheirbyjacques ✨

For 25 character questions. I'll be answering for BOG's deuteragonist, Vesta!

3. What makes your character’s skin crawl?

Injustice, especially when its committed by a fellow Descendent in the name of the same religion she follows.

6. What is your character’s fondest memory?

Sneaking out with her twin sister, Amata, to go run out and explore the city together at night. Meeting the kind of friends you spend all night talking to but never see again. Exchanging unfamiliar ideas and expanding her worldview into something so much freer than what she was raised to believe. Believing she could save the world.

12. Who had the most negative impact on your character’s life?

If I wanted to go with a simplistic answer, her parents. They fucked her up in a lot of ways, but to be honest I'm not sure if their presence alone would have hurt her the way she's been hurt. A less direct answer could be Lucius Cato, as his wider political actions created a domino effect that led to the great tragedy of her backstory.

She'd say it would be the one she loved most, Amata. She loved Vesta too, but by the end she did not prioritize her the way Vesta did her. And then she had the audacity to abandon her and die.

22. What is your character most afraid of?

Becoming like her sister. Secondary to that, being abandoned.

[tragicbackstoryenjoyer]

Hey! Happy Blorbsday!

What advice would your OCs give a past person of themselves if they could?

@bloodlessheirbyjacques

ooh, I love this question! I saw someone else (I don't remember who off the top of my head, unfortunately) answer this as their OCs at the end of their novel, so I'll go for something different and answer as my OCs from the beginning of my novel. (and uh. sorry for the late response.)

Ashala

"don't ever feel too safe or let your family keep you naive. most of the world hates you for reasons that are out of your control and will never change. act accordingly, no matter how miserable that may make you."

Vesta

"prestige is not power, and knowledge is not wisdom. you cannot and will not save the world. do not aspire to be anything more than what your elders ask of you, and do not let your sister stray, either."

Lucius

"a Descendent does not a holy man make. you were put in this world to lead humanity in the light of the Ancestors, but most of our kin have forgotten our sacred duty. if you're not careful, any one of them will rob you of your bloodright."

Leonarda

"don't be so servile that you refuse to see when someone wishes to steal what is most precious to you. do everything you can to protect it."

Ivren

"enjoy every moment you have with your loved ones. although this may be the time the world decides to make it hard for you to stay together, you were lucky enough to be alive at the same time they were. appreciate it while it lasts."

[tragicbackstoryenjoyer]

A Visitor

Decided to share an excerpt of Vesta and Ashala's very first interaction.

Bang, bang, bang.

Ashala awoke with a jump. At first, she thought the noise she heard was just from another one of her nightmares, until it came again.

Bang, bang, bang.

Ashala scuttled back into the corner, covering her mouth to stifle a scream. No, no, no, she thought. Just when she thought for once in her life she might be safe, they came for her. It had all been too good to be true, hadn’t it?

When Ashala did not answer the door, it opened from the outside. Moonlight poured in, silhouetting what looked to be a woman in a dress, although she couldn’t make out any further details. Any hope of Ashala’s that the intruder was in fact Asimar Aradi quickly faded, leaving nothing but terror and a vague sense of confusion.

“If you’re going to spread lies about me, at least come out and admit it to my face.” The threat was harried and angry, the woman’s voice sounding like the sweet warble of a viol. Ashala noticed that in her hands she held a sword that glinted faintly in the moonlight.

Ashala clutched her chest, unable to contain her panic. “Wh-what are you doing here?” She gasped out. “Who are you?”

“Step outside,” the woman said, beckoning her forth. “See who you speak to.”

Ashala rose on shaky legs, her hands up in the air to signal her lack of weaponry. Eyes pinned on the floor, she took one step after another until she had passed the strange woman and was standing out in the open night, facing away from the door.

“Now turn around and look at me,” she commanded. Ashala could feel the faint brush of metal at the back of her neck. Slowly, carefully, she did as told.

It took her a few moments to recognize the woman in front of her. Her dress was far less lavish this time around, only a simple black brocade overdress on top of a white linen shift. She still wore a golden mask over the upper features of her face that contorted with rage.

“Ah,” Vesta Corvinus said, sword millimeters from the base of Ashala’s throat. “You’re that girl who was at the Ascension Day speech.” She chuckled incredulously. “What a show you put on for all of us out there. Ironic.”

“Your worship…” Ashala fell to her knees, eyes focused on the ground. “Wh-why are you here?”

“I think you know why I’m here,” she spat. “Tell me your name.”

“A-Ashala,” she said, trembling out of control. Shit. Was her given name alone enough to identify her as a Mystite? “Ashala of Corovia.” The Centiclarian style of names, indicating origins in a well-populated city should be enough to cover her.

Vesta, for one, did not seem to notice. “Alright, Ashala, where is it?” She barked.

Ashala’s heart was beating out of her chest. “Where is what?

“You don’t really think I’d believe that you’re that stupid, do you?” Vesta stepped forward, hovering over her. “Or do you forget your own betrayal? Where. Is. It?”

Ashala clenched her eyes shut, trying to comprehend the situation at hand. She knew it. Aradi must have betrayed her, exactly like she feared. Now a true flesh-and-blood kmiyat had come to her door and was going to kill her if she did not do as she asked. Ashala tried to breathe. There was no point in resisting. Where had she hid the bodies? She was still drowsy with sleep, and she had not checked on them since giving their locations to Aradi.

Wait. She had given their locations to Aradi, didn’t she? If he had betrayed her, then why was Vesta Corvinus asking where they were? Wouldn’t she already know? Whatever the reason, Vesta needed her. And that gave Ashala leverage. Leverage she could use.

“Please,” Ashala said, her voice gaining an unintended note of confidence. “I swear upon the Ancestors, I will not tell a soul about its location.”

Vesta sneered. “What hypocrisy!” She cried. “To swear upon the Ancestors in front of their Descendent after betraying her to Serafens!”

Ashala looked up demurely. “If you want to know where your sister and Prince Nahmar lay, why don’t you ask your informant?”

Vesta blinked in surprise before quickly re-asserting her confidence. “Do you mean the traitor Asimar Aradi? He has been dealt with. The only person left to handle is you.”

Ah, Ashala thought. Her face quickly reformed into a scowl. “Do you mean to kill me, then?” She asked. She was practically tempting the other woman at this point, but at this point death seemed inevitable unless she played her cards right. “Why do you delay with all these ridiculous questions?”

“Remember-” Vesta threatened, leaning in close, “-who you’re speaking to.” She stood straight again. “And answer. Quickly.”

“Ah, I see,” Ashala mused. “You fear that others know of your secret, or will find out even after my death. You need to know the location of the bodies so that you can destroy them once and for all.”

Vesta stepped back, eyes wide. Ashala rose slowly, letting her hands fall to her sides. Funny. Vesta had seemed so large, so imposing, when standing before the execution stakes in front of an entire city. Now, with the two of them standing on even ground, Ashala realized that Vesta was no taller than she was, if not slightly shorter. Ashala shook her head.

“Why should I tell you?” She asked. “What will you give me for this information?”

Vesta opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. She said nothing.

Ashala leaned back and chuckled. “You need me, don’t you? Don’t pretend like you have power over me,” she spat. She should be less reckless, she knew that, but some part of her relished in having so much power over a Descendent.

Vesta narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Let’s discuss.”

[tragicbackstoryenjoyer]

10 and 20 for the OC asks!

--Joy (@italiangothicwriteblr)

Answering for both Ashala and Vesta!

10. What are some of your OC’s pet peeves? How do they handle it when the annoyance doesn’t stop?

Ashala cannot stand it when other people complain about their lives around her. I mean, who are they to complain when they have not felt the ache of hunger, the loneliness of total and all-encompassing loss, or the white-hot anger of being utterly powerless to do anything about it? Well. Maybe they have, but certainly not like she has.

Ashala generally assumes that they won't care about that, though, and therefore nods along and pretends to be interested while silently making fun of them and trivializing their experiences in her head.

20. Does your OC have any favourite games to pass the time? What other hobbies do they have?

As a kid, Ashala's favorite game was lamhash, a sort of simple gambling game using candy or toys, kind of like a fantasy version of dreidel. She grew out of it, though, and there's not many people left to play it with, anyways. As for hobbies, she enjoys music, dancing, and gardening!

10. What are some of your OC’s pet peeves? How do they handle it when the annoyance doesn’t stop?

Public displays of affection! If you insist on having some hot, passionate love affair that will inevitably end in heartbreak a few weeks or months down the line, at least have the decency to do so in private. Of course, such things don't usually occur in Vesta's current social circles, but that's not to say that she hasn't seen it before. Usually, she'll give the offending party a pointed cough, and when that inevitably doesn't work, she'll roll her eyes and leave the room. They probably aren't paying much attention to her anyways.

20. Does your OC have any favourite games to pass the time? What other hobbies do they have?

Vesta's quite familiar with most card games (both ones belonging to noble courts and those belonging to seedy gambling dens) and is fairly gifted at chess. In terms of hobbies, she enjoys hunting and, on occasion, painting. She used to gobble up books of economic and political theory, but has since outgrown that particular interest.

Taglist (ask to be added or removed)

@sir-galahadnt @dropsoftheuniverse @ladywithalamp @ashen-crest @laufire-writes

[tragicbackstoryenjoyer]

Friday Kiss Tag Game

tagged by @bloodlessheirbyjacques (tysm!)

Tags

@italiangothicwriteblr @cherrybombfangirlwrites @tc-doherty @flowerprose @quilloftheclouds @thepixiediaries

Ashala gawked. “You broke the rules… and left the Palace… and snuck onto the ship… all by yourself?”

Vesta nodded and slid the dagger back into her pocket. “I do not enjoy it, but I am not incapable of such tasks.”

“If so, why not do this by yourself? Make your life easy and spin against me.”

“Believe it or not, Ashala, I am not entirely a monster,” she said. “And even if I was, such a solution would never last. One rumor may have been an accident, but whoever possesses the corpses of my sister and the Imperial Prince will not stay silent forever. They will find ways to use it against me, surely. Ways that will make simple execution seem a mercy. If either of us wishes to remain here, we must stop them."

Ashala took a shaky breath. “We don’t know how dangerous this enemy may be. You may die.”

Vesta gave a sad smile. “I have little to lose.”

“And what if I die?”

She blinked slowly. “Well, neither do you.”

Ashala drew away. She had no right to speak of her like that. “And what if I say no?”

Her expression fell. “No…?”

“That’s right,” Ashala exclaimed, pushing herself to her feet. “No. I don’t want to help you. I don’t care what it costs me. You’re selfish. You’re a liar. I hate you-”

Vesta rose to her knees and grabbed her hands, bringing her forehead to Ashala’s knuckles. The very image of a supplicant worshiper.

“Please,” she said. “I need you, Ashala.”

She stood silent, in disbelieving shock. “I thought Descendents were not allowed to kneel before others,” she whispered, half-sure she was delusional.

“Descendent shall not bow before Descendent, said the One Hundred Precepts, as written by my Ancestors.” She looked up, still holding Ashala’s hands. “But you are no child of the Ancestors.”

“No,” she said. “Far from it.” What a strange sight to behold! The future queen of Salisia, with the ancestry of gods, kneeling before a peasant sposta, begging for her to help her. Ashala could get drunk on the feeling of the moment. Was this what it felt like to have power? To have the rich and the beautiful grovel at your feet for what assistance you may bring them? Ashala knew that Vesta was far too calculating to ever really mean it, but that did not change how she felt. For once she tasted the sweet wine of power, she could only thirst for more.

“I will assist you,” she said. “Fool though I know I am.”

“Thank you, oh, thank you!” Vesta cried. She then squeezed her hands and kissed her fingers, and Ashala melted away.

[tragicbackstoryenjoyer]

Last Line Tag

tagged by @aninkwellofnectar (thank you!) here's Vesta and Ashala bickering at a Proshian party.

She relaxed. “I never wanted to make you miserable. I just thought that he was…” Her voice trailed away into nothingness.

“Look, I wasn’t all that interested in him anyways. If you’d like- if this is possible- perhaps we could dance together. You could be the woman, and I the man. I’m sure the others would understand why we’re doing it.” Ashala was tipsy, too, and silly ideas exited her mouth without much thought.

Still, Vesta’s eyes brightened. “Do you think we could?”

“Here, the next dance is starting now. Come with me.”

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