asinfinitum:
❝ I thought that in fairytales, everything is happy. I suppose the flowers in Alice in Wonderland wasn’t. I wonder if Alice is a bad person … ❞ Estola settles her contemplative gaze ‘pon the flower, as though it might have succour will to speak its own mind. Perhaps it’s because it couldn’t speak that it’s be vulnerable to torment … to choices that it least would choose for ITSELF. Her stare lifts from the dainty plant, and towards Richard. ❝ You dress very much like a prince in those books. ❞
If only it were true that fairy tales were as happy as many censored them out to be. The original renditions often entailed much bloodier fates to the endings. The unfortunate distinction between children and adults often entailed how willing one was to accept death as an option.
A chuckle passes by Richards lips, his gaze soft upon the child before him. He allows for a gesture, then; one might expect of a royal asking a young lady for a dance. His hand is extended before him, his head brought down in to a slight bow.
“You wouldn’t be mistaken. Though, perhaps not a prince anymore. I am Richard, the King of Windor. It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”













