Efforts made from beyond the grave for her betterment.

A journey aided by the guiding hands of someone not there in the flesh. The story ends with the closing of one chapter, as we begin the journey of another. A holdover from a wartorn nation whose usefulness is brought to a crossroads. She's a lost child, forgotten by society, forced to start from scratch. A puppet with its strings cut loose, unsure as to what to do with her newfound freedom. A girl disciplined in strict military decorum. An appointed position that gives opportunities to do just that. A person used as an instrument of war attempting to find ways to rekindle their lost humanity. Or rather, everything surrounding it facilitates sentiments easy to relate to. Lots of icing, very little cake.īut it's not all a lost cause. Layered color gradients supplemented in place of proper diction. The main difference being the tool flowery words traded in for audiovisual frontloading.

However, if you desire content equally as deserving of the words being used to describe it, then it might benefit you to move on to greener pastures, because like this opening paragraph, so too is the material on display hyper-stylized rendering of a truly insignificant thing. If embellishments for something so minuscule is all you need to be entranced by the item being described, then Violet Evergarden will not bother you. The wondering gazes, nothing but customers with money to spend.

The dancing lights, nothing but the cheap glow of neon signs from neighboring competitors adjacent to it. There it is, coming into focus, a JC Penny's mannequin positioned at the window front of a shopping mall district. Look beyond the object, beyond the fabric zoom pass the crystalline glass wall, and suddenly, the true image of my purple prose takes shape.

blossoming from a thing of tertiary value.īut this is not Violet Evergarden I'm describing. The rays of light trails over the delicate frame of the figure. It shimmers ever so slightly, creating prisms of color in the endless shuffle. The soft glow of light dancing on the surface of the sheet of glass serving as its imprisonment. The figure stands there without concern for the wondering gaze of any passersby, a translucent wall erected between it and the endless faces. Porcelain skin adorned with silk, the material complements the complexion. There it is, a body on display, delicate fabric hugging its frame as if a part of its existence from the very beginning.

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