Snow fell silently, drifting through the grey air into the endless white below. Black shapes reached in twisted hopelessness for the sky, they-too coated in white despair. From her lips drifted warm breath that rose as white specks decorated long black lashes around deep violet eyes. A sad, intelligent gaze that focused only on the blank canvas ahead. The world was in shades of grey, the only splash of color was the purplenette clad in black, save for her purple scarf. She wore her hair down, uncharacteristically it flowed freely down her back in a silken veil of lavender, it's full length gently touched the backs of her knees as she moved.

She wore headphones, big ones that hid her ears from the cold, and while the music was loud, it still seemed to be playing somewhere far away from the Spican. She stepped over a fallen tree, a black gloved hand leaving her pocket to touch the nearest standing tree, smearing the black bark and the white ice. A red flash caught her eye and she turned, a cardinal, one she'd seen in this area before. She was standing at the stricken tree, the one tree that was twisted in a horrid shape, the one that had taken the lightening strike.

Seeing the bird caused her to collapse, she turned and slid down the tree into the snow, back against it's bones, one leg bent at the knee, the other straight out. One arm rested on the bent knee and the other lay on her outstretched thigh. She watched the bird, the only other living thing in this mute paradise. She mouthed the words to it as it perched ahead, looking back at her.

Listening to music wasn't something she usually did to cope with problems. Normally it was a more sensual endeavor that raised her spirits. This time, she had nothing to turn to, no where to run, nothing to do but to wait, to hope, to mourn, to hurt. The bird chirped, but she couldn't hear it. Still, the motion urged her to sing aloud. It was a soft sound, caressing the air with notes as her fingers once caressed the skin of lovers. Korean lyrics filled the dead woods to the faint sound of the drums coming from her headphones. The cardinal flew down then, it landed on the arm that propped on her knee. Shoka's vision wasn't clear, and she refused to aknowledge the tears. One eventually welled enough to fall, leaving a streak down her cold-chilled cheeks.

It was silly, but soon she was singing to the bird. It didn't stay long, it chirped, shifted and flew away. Shoka watched it go, a speck blood against parchment. Her voice left with it and she fell silent, though the beat in her phones continued for a bit.

"I think..I'm sick...I think I'm sick..." she said softly, the last words of the song and she stared into the snow between her legs.

There was a lot to think about, all she had done, how it was paying off. Shoka was now quite wealthy, all her experimenting, the use of girls, the study, the plants, the perfumes, even the sex. It was all for this. She'd created a way to manipulate others with pheremone, a true love potion, written a book on the psychology and use of pheromone with such manipulation. It was published and selling, her perfumes were selling. Shoka was a genius, a prodigy, and she'd proven it, possibly making her the richest girl in school. She didn't flaunt it. The millionaire had sold all her research to a perfume company, her name wasn't on the product in the public eye, but secretly the Donomoto girl would be getting checks the rest of her life.

Her wealth meant she'd be graduating and quite literally going to paradise, and she'd take Peorth with her. ...

Peorth....

She lay her head back against the tree and looked at his branches, they were dead. There was no saving them, but....without moving her head she lowered her gaze to a small tent built around possibly the only living tree in the area. A sapling planted too late to have any hope of surviving winter without the small life-support apparatus, powered by potatoes. She could sit in there with it, where it was warm, but the dead tree suited her better she felt.

The prince remained there for a long while, eventually closing her eyes picturing Peorth's smile, her warmth, the image she had carefully made sure to memorize.

Beneath her, heat rising from her skin, red faced and wanting, her hair and clothes disheveled, never having looked more perfect than anything else Shoka had seen in all her life. She remembered the smells, the pain, the sounds, and remembered too how she'd forced the poor girl to leave with her virtue still in tact. Her small frame in her arms, drifting in the clouds to the music, even her naked body in the steaming waters of the bath where they had first met. She thought of her beaming grin at the lake, a smile silhouetted in the sunlight and her timid way of speaking. Her heart beat with fervor, her blood running through her veins, this kept her alive. Not the beating, but her face. It made her heart beat, it made her blood run. In the darkness it light her black soul.

She was a prince with a crown sitting on a pile of bones, bones she'd ripped from flesh herself for her own gain, for the gain of science, int he pursuit of knowledge and now she gazed at the fruits. The bones, so many bones. She'd build a castle of them to shelter her Peorth, but it would be a waste. Angels didn't want to live among the filth of devils such as she.

She meant to stand, and first licked her lips and noticed a coppery taste. Her lip had cracked at the corner from the chill and were bleeding. She decided to ignore it and stayed put. Pale white skin, a red stripe down her chin. She let her mind go blank like the snow. It continued to fall, even with her hair spread around on the ground, bits of it were soon covered, buried in a very thin layer. She internalized the music with closed eyes, shadows from her eyelashes painting the pink of her chilled face. She imagined Peorth there, laying against her chest, she imagined her nervousness, her need. It gave her peace, and yet tortured her as well to imagine such a thing. This cruelty, it was perfect. She was starting to get used to the bloody ripping pain in her chest, bittersweet and so she held it near, liek grasping a rose tighter for the purpose of letting the thorns bite, for it was connected to her it was all connected to her. The girl with the mousey brown hair, who stuttered when she was nervous, who's eyes went cloudy in her arms, the extraordinary, ordinary little Peorth. Her Peorth.

For several months melancholy had settled over Spica's resident nouveau riche Englishwoman.  Whatever had brought it on she'd been having quite the difficult time comprehending just what it all meant in the greater scheme of things.  Upon her first arrival she had thought herself high and mighty, the jewel of Spica and a true noblewoman whom all other girls and women would strive to be like  themselves.  No pretty lady, cute girl or demure maiden was safe from her discerning eye, poetic compliment and kiss on the hand.  Often further kissing would ensue from her initial approach, though she'd been jilted a couple of times by ladies who were not of mind to return her affections.  But no matter!  She had pressed on without hesitation in the hope of becoming recognized by all as a true noblewoman!  It surely would have been only a matter of time before this came to pass., and yet...

And yet, she'd found herself in the unenviable position of having her affections rejected by the cruel twisting of fate.  One girl whom she'd rescued while riding her horse had once looked at her as the only girl she'd ever love.  Then someone else had come in, aristocratic and noble herself, and swept that girl off her feet; they were probably still together now.  Good for them.  It had hurt Tori's heart more than she'd initially thought it would.  Attempts had been made to forget that moment but none had panned out to her benefit.  So many girls had been flirted with, and most of them had turned her down or flitted away before she could take them to a proper high tea or the like.  For months she had been so disheartened that she had not made any attempt to flirt with anyone.  Nor had she been nearly as vocal as she'd once been.  The events had worn on her much more than they should, and now she wasn't even sure that she belonged at Spica any more.

So she'd walked out into the Ashed Lands in order to try and set herself straight on things.  Her greatest debate was truly whether or not she should return to England before the new semester started and she was locked into classes.  There didn't seem to very much here for her any longer and loneliness had crept deep into her heart.  Though it reached out desperately like so many blackened trees from the soil of this area, no salvation appeared in sight.  Not in Japan at least.  So she strolled through the strange landscape in a grey woolen skirt, red jacket with black trim over a white blouse and a white scarf about her neck.  Over her shoulder rested a brown leather bag which contained some personal items, her camera and a thermos filled with fresh brewed tea and a couple of plastic cups.  One never knew when tea would be needed!  Though she'd entered alone she soon spotted someone else out in this odd wilderness.  A young woman with purple hair, quite pretty in a princely sort of way and quite resembling the Spica Student Council President.  The closer Tori got the more she was certain of the woman's identity until at last she had no doubts.  This was definitely Shoka Donomoto.  With a sad little smile Tori moved over to the purplenette with a jumbled mind and only the intention to reach out for some kind of connection.

"Now what's a pretty woman like you doing out in a place like this alone?" she asked in Japanese, then tried to widen her smile.  It wouldn't budge.  All the same she asked, "May I join you?"

With her eyes closed and music blaring, the blood-stained prince didn't know the girl approached at first, it was her scent that alerted the president, as her nose was so trained on such things. Excitement, a little nervousness, maybe a bruised ego, but not to the degree of one of her usual victims. This person was more confident than those types and Shoka opened her eyes, she sat up a little straighter and pulled the headphones down around her neck; she inclined her head and raised her hand, palm up to gesture to the empty place beside her.

"Sorry, I didn't hear," she said softly, "but you're welcome to sit."

She forgot about the blood on her face, her tongue swept along the backs of her teeth however as she tried to decide what kind of front to put up. She couldn't be all depressed, that would be silly.

She pulled the straight leg up beside the other and looked at the sky and then straight ahead into the empty trees. She should say something, but she didn't which was a clear indication there was something wrong with the smooth talking prince. Instead her breath came out in foggy clouds and she laced her fingers together.

Tori could see that something else was clearly on the Student Council President's mind as she reacted to the Englishwoman's greeting.  There were little signs she picked up on which told her this might be the case.  Coming out to the Ashed Lands and listening to music with headphones alone wasn't something you just did on a whim as far as she was aware.  Something had brought her out here to think on it, maybe simply to be alone in its aftermath.  Maybe she was projecting herself onto the older girl.  She had been welcomed to join Shoka, though, and far be it from Victoria Miller to turn down such an offer from a pretty girl.  With no fanfare whatsoever Tori nodded and smoothed her skirt out under her before taking a seat on the ground.  This was far from the most comfortable place on Astraea Hill to sit but it wasn't like she had many other places she could go to be alone with her thoughts.  Or to have the kind of odd solidarity she reasoned she may share with Shoka Donomoto at that moment.  

She let her legs stretch out in front of her as she stared off at the damaged landscape.  Nothing but empty trees with no promise of a sudden blossoming; Tori felt it was an apt comparison to her prospects at Spica.  Even prospects for friendship.  A frown crossed her lips as she pulled her legs up to her chest and finally sighed.  This was quite awkward,  Quite likely it would be better if one of the two were to say something, and who better than Tori?

Finally she looked over at Shoka and asked, "Can I ask what you're listening to on those?"  Not much of a question, but it might take her mind off of how lost she was.