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"Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely?"
― donna tartt, secret history.
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ALASKAGILBERT WAS ONCE A HOUSEHOLD NAME IN THE QUAINT TOWN OF MYSTIC FALLS. You didn't have to be friends with the effervescent brunette to hear all about her. She was the resident golden girl. A dedicated daughter, an academic prodigy and the mitigator of every callous affliction thrown at her loved ones- a girl composed of soft compromises and a heart as big as the moon.
With her long chestnut locks and a saccharine smile that was brighter than life itself- it was no wonder how she hopped to the top of the social pyramid. She didn't crawl. That action was too far beneath her. She had spun herself a crown of gold, and it was handed to her on a silver platter.
Luminescence personified, lips dripping off the purest forms of honey― Alaska was alive in spirit, inebriated with the transient idea of an iron grip on the social order. In the high school social hierarchy, people like her always, indisputably sat at the top.
