With all of the compliments she received in the world, it was a wonder she didn't have a larger ego. The falu-masked dancer continued on with the (supposedly) asinine idea that the princess was a beauty; she didn't see it, she couldn't see it, and found the concept of being related to a flower laughable — again, it brought faint memories of earth-loving Sage, who never really made any sense to her less peaceful cousin. Of course, that made the attitude of the charming man all the more comforting as he went on to speak of his mother. Her smiles faded into near nothing, cool eyes turning chilly as they gazed into the space about the two of them absently. "I don't think my mother ever called me anything...but daddy called me a princess once." Once, only once, and she was certain that he never would again.
"I used to call my brother a prince, but he's a King now. It's a bit silly, really; I'm too old for such foolish fantasy." This was something she had started to come to terms with, that her internal world of kingdoms and castles and kings and knights and beauty were falsifications of the brain that she couldn't truly achieve. It was as her mind turned to her own immaturity that she felt his hand move from its settled place upon her back; curious, she followed the movement as it came into view. There, beneath the surface of one black-rimmed lip, was the symbol of her people — and his as well. Her mind turned to the scarred-and-inked star at her own hip, mind trying to rationalize who this unusual Lykoi was.
It took only a moment for her faint, vague memories of her uncle to surface back once more. Razekiel had been, supposedly, lost during the storm, though he had never really come down from the mountains anyways. All her camaraderie was lost, replaced with intrigue and wonderment — it had been the same with lost Samael, who was not desired within the walls of Inferni by anyone who would willingly voice opinion of him. The question was a simple one, and it was voiced with whispered words: "Why did you leave them?" Them, spoken like an outsider. Inferni. Inferni, she was coming to realize, was Hell.
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