Celica Senka Grail was a beautiful and pure child one would say. But she was of broken mind and body.
She was beautiful they all said, beautiful in the way that she looked like a doll, seen as one also. Dressed in frilly dresses with ribbons and bows around her wrists. All to go with her tiny bird like fragility, and skin that was so pale that it looked porcelain and made people so gentle to touch from fear that she might break. Emerald green eyes that where fanned by thick lashes, and fine silky copper hair that reached elbow length as no scissors had gone to it in long while.
Hair that was brushed softly and lovingly so nought to cause a single tug, by maids who talked to her softly. All the while the doll-like girl stared ahead no life those brilliant green eyes to be seen.
For her beauty was born of cruelty both self-inflicted, and not her own. Her pale spotless skin was from confinement to the manor, to her room. Her thin bird like fragility from lack of food being taken in.
She was a living doll, brushed and looked after with loving care of the maids, spoken softly to with words that did not reach the girl who lived too deep in her head to reach or spark any life in dulled eyes.
She had been this way since the murder of her beloved twin brother Cloven and mother Aurora in her room, in this room as she hid and watched.
Her father Alistair lost to the world as well from the loss of his son and heir and his beloved wife, took to the bottle. He stayed there to lost to notice his daughter slipping until she shattered to pieces never to be reclaimed from the ground only to gather dust and become bent leaving them unable to fit together again.
So she was left with flaws in the form of scars on both wrists, marks of suicide, hidden behind pretty ribbons.
She was a doll, beautiful and well carried for. But forgotten.