[center][h3]Nenra Corislen[/h3]
[sub]interacting with: no one[/sub][/center]

Numbness. Disbelief. That was what filled Nenra Corislen's head, and had filled her for the three nights since she'd been snatched from her quiet home. She'd been unceremoniously stuffed into a carriage that may as well have been a cage, herself the last addition after four other girls had clearly been in there for quite some time. As she settled, claiming one of the corners for herself, she felt the other girls' gaze on her.

Oh, they were all beautiful. That was the blessing of such a cramped space - even with Nenra's horrible eyesight, she could see her carriagemates in some semblance of clarity. One had glorious burgundy-chestnut curls bouncing down to her waist, another glossy ruby locks that pooled on the bench around her as she sat, fine skirts tucked prettily under her. Four sets of jeweltoned eyes sized her up (and clearly found her wanting) as she self-consciously brushed at her scruffy shoulder-length whisps of brown. One actually [i]tittered[/i] at her homespun skirts as she fanned them out around herself.

"I thought they only took pretty girls." Whispered one of her carriagemates, one who was so thin and graceful she looked to be made of porcelain. Two of the others giggled in apparent agreement.

Nenra's cheeks burned, but she said nothing. She kept her eyes to the floor, averting her gaze. She would not say anything to them, nor to anyone else they encountered. Not to the guardsmen, not to anyone.

She did not belong here. Not among these glorious jewel-toned creatures. It had been over a decade since the reapers had come to the sleepy village of Myllendh- they had taken one of her cousins, once, and rumors had gone around to say the girl was so unfit that she was not chosen for the honor of being taken by a lord, but rather given to the castle guards for their pleasure afterwards.

As they approached the Spine - the castle Shadow Worth little more than a blurred lump of doom in her vision, the other girls' demeanor instantly changed. The pretty air gem who claimed to be a lord's daughter, prattling on and on about how the gods chose her for this duty, finally shut her pretty berry-stained mouth and permitted herself to be held by one of the others.

Nenra did not allow herself to cry and shake as these pretty noble ladies did. There was a chance she'd be sent back. She was not nearly so pretty as these other gems, and surely the guards would see that and send her away.

She thought it was going to happen, as she was lined up with all the other Gems and inspected top-to-bottom. She lacked the figure of many, the luscious hair and brilliant eyes. The Drakken who walked up the ranks of Gems paused in front of her (a few paces away, far enough that she could make out only his sneer and swaggering stance) and moved closer - and she did not flinch, her eyes already defocused as though she could not see at all. 

"...lovely eyes. The rest of her needs work, but... some like theirs breakable."

When she still did not react, the drakken moved forward, letting her see his grotesque face in some aspect of clarity, and slapped her across the face hard enough to nearly send her sprawling. "Avert your eyes when your superiors are talking to you."

She wordlessly filed off after the other girls, into the bare room she was assigned, and went quietly to her bed. She barely remembered to brush her hair, combing through it with her fingers and calling the dust and grime out of it to her hands, which she cleaned in the basin of water so kindly provided. 

In the morning, having risen with the dawn, she pulled on the shapeless gray clothes, looking at herself in the mirror with disdain. Bland, boring. Nothing to her. If not for her golden-green eyes (oddly striking, even to herself - though too peculiar to be beautiful, really) she might well be forgotten, a daughter of the humble earth left to rot here. 

She set her jaw, turning away in disgust, tears blurring her eyes. She barely reacted to the pounding on her door, until the second time when it seemed it would fly off the hinges. She rose, opened it, and proceeded down the stairs with the trickle of other Gems. Settling at a table surrounded by such vapid pretty things as before, she ate nothing and drank only a glass of water. 

She would be nothing, take nothing, give nothing. She would be forgotten, she promised.

Two hulking blobs walked into the middle of the room, the chatter dying out as they passed. As they stopped, the smaller one barked out an order to bow before the... alleged prince.

Nobility meant all but nothing to Nenra, who remembered nothing except the tithe Myllendh had to pay to the baronet who technically owned the land. They dutifully set a portion of the harvest aside every year from the time she could remember, though since the plague the soldiers had not come to collect it. Living in the middle of nowhere with no-one of note around, the idea of nobility held no weight for her. What held more weight was trustworthiness, perseverance, hard work, altruism. From the stories told of the Drakken, they held none of those values. Even - no, especially - their princes.

She remained in her seat, still as ever, eyes unfocused and vacant. There was a clattering as dozens of other brides rose to their feet, some choosing to simply stand, some seemingly choosing to kneel, some bowing or curtsying as though they were at court.