human
Girl:  "—bends itself to suit me." The girl murmured, holding down her orange hair as the wind tried to pick it up and flutter it behind her. She stood in a grassy field, studying a grave site built in the shadow of some trees. The marker bore the name Prisca Benedict. She gazed at it, her crimson eyes creasing into a smile.
gpt
Old Woman:  "Princess, you’ll catch your death if you stand out here in the wind."
human
Old Woman:  It was an old woman, dressed in noble garments. Several servants stood behind her. "Princess," the old woman repeated, "please listen to me…"
gpt
Girl:  "Enough with your ‘princess.’ It’s foolishness. Prisca Benedict is dead and in the ground. And that being so, it cannot be right to call me princess. I’m supposed to be your precious granddaughter."
human
Old Woman:  The old woman bowed her head.
gpt
Girl:  "Hmph," she said and looked back at the grave. "She looked so much like me… To think that she would serve me twice."
human
Girl:  "A valuable thing," was all the young woman said, and then she opened the scarlet folding fan in her hand with a crack. She turned toward the old woman and the servants waiting behind her.
gpt
Old Woman:  "Princess…"
human
Girl:  "How many times must I tell you not to call me that? The princess who bore that title died pathetically."