If eyes were the windows to a soul, then they were houses designed by their circumstance.
Irene had dark eyes. They were often cold, and rigid, just another part of the mask that she bore. It was a heavy burden; they were a heavy burden. Her eyes showed her things that she did not want to see. That the very princess she envied had grown into the very queen she hated. That her people needed a queen to love, and not to be afraid of. On the other end, no one could see into her eyes, which were like wooden boards. They hid everything that she did not want others to see until one day, there was nothing left to hide. Her house was an empty house, with no one living inside anymore.
Gen had dark eyes too. In contrast, they were like molten steel set in the fires that softened them. Long dark tunnels that stretched so deep in. They seeked not to hide things, but if you looked into them, all you could see was that there were things lurking at the back, but none of which you can actually identify. It began as a spark, a comforting spark that warmed you thoroughly when you looked in; lulled you into a false sense of security. Then, as time passed, the fire in them grew. Slowly, their temperatures rose until they were scalding to look at, and they seared your soul after peering into them. Bared everything, always taking, never giving back. Soon, though, the fire ran out of things to burn, and started to consume the very soul inside, until it was ashes. There was nothing left in his eyes anymore, not even himself, except the raging fire that could never be satiated, but ever kept alive by madness. His house was long since vacated, having shattered its owner.
Helen had light eyes. Dark, like most of her family, but lighter than most. A pretty shade of brown, almost hazel. They were warm and had a degree of transparency in them that was unusual. A young girl resided in them, ever smiling kindly. She never complained, and turned every obstacle into an opportunity. Like a mother, and always looking out for others. She was a good friend, a good sister, but deep inside there was always something a little broken about the girl. Something sad and disappointed, as if she regretted failing someone. Her house never fell into disrepair though, because she always picked up the pieces.
Sophos' eyes were the lightest out of them. They were a crystal blue, characteristic of the invaders' light colouring; blond hair, blue eyes. They were well matched with the sweet smile and almost child-like wonder. A certain curiosity yet undestroyed and untainted by the world. His soul was most certainly there, and the eyes were not empty or void of life; ever a child inside, graceful and happy, like never in life. His house was slightly damaged, but always remained intact.