Dec 21, 2006 17:50
The molten gold was drizzled onto her skin in an intricate symmetrical pattern. The molten silver was poured seconds later, winding around the thin gold lines. They chased each other through her burning flesh.
Her eyes were replaced by highly polished orbs of dark-blue quartz. They caught the light with the vague inner fire of opals but without the colours. They reflected back twin fractured candle flames frozen in crystal, rimmed with blood. Her priceless eyes were too large and gave her the look of constant surprise, constant staring, constant intent.
She screamed only once through it all. She screamed when they shaved her long black hair.
The royal tattoos and scars were finished before these final steps in the process and now they multiplied the beauty. An underlying intricate filigree, adding to the value and virtue that was the Queen.
Her pain gave her focus and her lack of sight let her see beyond appearances. Her judgements were fair and no one could fault the lengths she had gone to for her people.
Her body lies in a sarcophagus cut from emerald next to the eleven other Queens that ruled before her under the ash and mud from the cataclysmic event that buried her whole civilization. She and the others will never be found.
tags
gold,
queen,
silver,
tattoos