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Circe Carolingian
There is a woman, raised in the comfort and confines of wealth, the maiden comes from the most noble of them all. If you look closely, you can perhaps steal a glance o the ethereal beauty at the water well or her pale skin peeking out from behind a sentry's shield. Her heavy hood not only shields her face from the sun, but also from the greedy eyes of men, men who would stop at nothing to attain her. Hidden behind the bodies of soldiers, the young lady can pass by, unscathed by the pigs that are men.
Her hair is like the waves of seafoam at night. So mysterious, that you could disappear, so soft, that you could fall asleep. Her skin, is like that of the whitest snow. her lips are as pink as the sakura blossom. Slim and slender, she is still strong, like the young bamboo. Her movements rival those of the waves and wind, smooth. However, don’t be fooled by her petite frame, for she is strong and brave. Her mind is sharpened, as is her heart, against the ways of men and wolves alike.
Can you see her? The woman in white? The forbidden princess? She’s there, over there in the mansion. There, over in the market. In the temple. She’s always where you least expect her to be. However, she always seems to creep into your heart, and she doesn’t plan on moving anytime soon.
Her ice cold eyes can see through reality itself, beyond the physical world, they stare right into the empty pupils of death. A field mouse sizing up the lion, king of all that breathes. She needs no blade for her intellect is far more dangerous, able to bend spirits to her will and sing to those who've passed on. Lady of the physical world, queen of the unseen, her domain is not just one kingdom.
Pure of heart and pure of mind a shield of light is her only beacon in this dark world. It leads her to where she is destined to be, and though her feet may wander her steely gaze on the prize does not. She wanders and roams the countries. Born into this world but she feels like an immigrant to the very soil that her feet reside on. So if you see a woman in white, hair as gray as the winter fog, you'll know that it is her. You'll know that it is the princess, the traveler, the ghost in human form.