prologue - jealousy
She stares at the wall with her nose twitching in agitation. It's mocking her, watching her living in immortality; laughing at her making as many mistakes and not caring what the consequence was.
There was no other consequence but living on her parents’ estate, a great piece of land that she now owns ... and protecting it from idiots such as those mortals down in the small town South of her, where she does nothing else but roam around and look seventeen for ever.
She's cursed and the Moon Goddess did this to her for a sin she can not take back, nor forget. It was engraved in her mind like it was engraved on her grave a few miles away, still within her land.
A daughter. A princess born of beauty. KILLED out of jealousy.
DOB - Sept 10th, 1717
DOD - Aug 27th, 1738
She deserved to be dead. Everyone deserves to be dead and now three centuries on, they were. Her parents; that stupid assh*le; the butler; gardeners; cooks; servants, pet dogs that were males, etc.
She growls at the painting running down the length of the wall facing the rose garden, a garden her older sister would hide herself in to getaway for a bit. Claw marks in the plaster. Paint faded. Holes she smashed into it with random bricks she had found and thrown. She's done a lot of stuff to it over the years - she's had a lot of free time on her hands - because the Moon Goddess pointed at it the day she was cursed, so now it glimmers with magic as it shines from one side to the other.
She wants to destroy it, the feeling itching in her hands as she curls them into fists to prevent herself from scratching it brick chunk by brick chunk. She'd just punch it and break her hand again, like the thousand other times.
Thank the Lord of bullsh*t that she doesn't have to go to the hospital to get it looked out. She's able to heal, for crackers sake, she's werewolf.
One day she'll get the chance to fix it, but today isn't that day. For one, she can't repair broken walls or repaint it neither. So for now she'll do her best to glare it every time she walks past it and hope it blows up from the intensity.
It was a reminder of her life, a memoir written in paint and gentle strokes and mixed colours to form a picture in each section divided by pillars half in the wall as some trend back in the day.
She kicks it with every ounce of anger and frustration she's had since that day the Moon Goddess visited her and a chunk of brick falls off the wall.
She couldn't help herself.