Not my best work but it had been awhile since I worked so much on descriptions. It was good to try to work my hand at that again. Original fiction. And thank you for helping me with my writing issue, darling. It is appreciated, always, to have that support.

The Orphic Fountain was famous. It was a grand display of artistic genius and talent. It towered over the crowds that came and stared in awe. The white stone shaped and twisted in such intricate details and spirals. The bodies carved were nude and stretched, twisted in languid forms. The emerging shapes of animals and skeletons were grotesque or beautiful, sometimes both. The flowing water rushed and poured into the expanded pool. The water glittered under the sun, the coins tossed in adding to the magic of the art where it wasn’t shaded by the towering pillars of the shut down temple. Years ago the pagan temples pulled apart and the followers hung from the steeples and gutted on the steps. The riches and artistry confiscated by the rich and the new religion if not destroyed.

This fountain was the reason the town had been remembered. Had grown and flourished when others disappeared in the revolution. This fountain was the inspiration for so much art, for so much love, for so much lost. For all the grotesque features of the fountain, what was heinous was to see the fountain broken. To see the white stone cracked and falling apart.To see the blood splattered across the bodies. The once clear blue water that shimmered and spoke with every trickle and ripple turned red. To see such a symbol, art, perfection broken and shattered because of avaricious.

Ariel stood in the same spot he had so many years ago as a child, staring up at the terrifying fountain with awe and horror. He gently pulled out a corpse of a woman from the pond, dropping her to the side in some vain attempt to save the fountain from any more defacement. He let out a quiet sigh of disappointment. In his sister, the ringleader of this atrocious attack- atrocious plan, and maybe even in himself. For he should have known. Should have accepted sooner what his sister was. What she would do- for he had always known what she was capable of. He let his eyes fall away from the fountain, turning towards Pasha. The large man was picking over what was left of the loot on some of the corpses, having nothing better to do while he waited for Ariel.

“I will not stay here.”

Pasha shrugged, pushing off of his knee to stand. “I have no complaints.” He spared only a glance at the fountain as he moved to stand beside Ariel. “I prefer the stars to a ceiling when the only bodies present aren’t likely to warm my bed.”

Ariel did not laugh. Which was fine because it wasn’t a joke. Ariel turned and made to leave the town with what little dignity he still had.

OC and Lily? Anon, you are a mind reader. This is the easiest thing yet to write. And a joy, as well! The (rewritten) beginning of an original story ahead.

It was in the grand fairy tale castle that Lillian grew up. Confined to the walls as the only heir to the king. The only failure of the great King. A daughter and not a son. A stain that was not her fault. But she was brought up knowing and believing that it was a simple fact.

But that would not stop her, slow her, hinder her. For she was the Princess and heir to the throne. She was the only child to the beautiful Queen and great King. So she was to be perfect in all other manners. She was named after the flower of their God, named for the humility of men and the Lady’s Tears that she cried for the loss of her children. She was brought up under the greatest minds and excelled at all her studies.

She grew into the molds made for her. A beautiful princess with long hair always braided and twisted in the latest fashion. Her cheek bones sharp and lips red. She was praised for her looks, for the parital heterochromia. She was doted on for her small frame and thick lashes. What she wore became the fashion for the nobles. What she said became excited gossip among the kingdom. Her coming marriage to Prince Phoebus was filling everybody’s minds, the romance catching all the young maidens attention.

Lillian was the most beloved of everybody. Or,most everybody. Her mother was always depressed, sad, defeated, and locked away in her quarters with but her hand maidens. Her father, she thought, had loved her. Doted on her, was proud of her. She surrounded herself with only those that loved her and only participated in activities that she knew she was good at.

Perhaps, then, that was her downfall. She, however, thought that it was simply unfair how difficult it was to get out of the castle without attracting attention. She had attempted to escape twice now from her home since she had overheard her father speaking to Duilio. Petulant and tired of all the running, she all but stomped towards the library, having it in her mind to demand that Michele, the only tutor she still had, help her escape to freedom.