Maloree's Literatures

Achi turns the picture over between her fingers. It is small, small enough to fit into the locket she’d removed it from. For the moment she sets the picture to the side, opting to inspect the locket instead. She holds it up on its silver chain, the sunlight that peeks through the curtains glints off of its inlaid garnets and rubies and throws soft prisms across the room and over the wall. Beyond the jewels it is a simple diamond shaped thing. It is aged, its silver has lost its luster. She hasn’t seen it in ages. Not since it fell from Malloree’s chest.