1/15 -- Click Clack Goes Her Boots
Eyes no one ever sees, a sparkling green hidden behind the simple mask, hair red like blood and skin white as milk. That is their fearless, immovable and respected leader. Words of wisdom drop from her mouth, voice soft, but no one dares to disobey the steel hidden in the softness.
Her decisions always come fast, razor sharp and with a pinpoint accuracy that is most admirable. Despite this, if she ever makes a mistake, she takes it gracefully with an apologetic smile for getting it wrong. No one can recall a better guild leader. No one wants to. No one finds there is a need to.
Her heels are clicking quietly against the tiles now, a click clack click clack you have come to recognize. Everyone holds there breath. The curtains do not stir, not a hair visible from behind the couch and the click clack is getting louder and louder and louder...
You can taste the suspense in the air, as if it were making love, the foreplay builds up, over and over for the climax...
Click clack.
::Happy Birthday::
Her decisions always come fast, razor sharp and with a pinpoint accuracy that is most admirable. Despite this, if she ever makes a mistake, she takes it gracefully with an apologetic smile for getting it wrong. No one can recall a better guild leader. No one wants to. No one finds there is a need to.
Her heels are clicking quietly against the tiles now, a click clack click clack you have come to recognize. Everyone holds there breath. The curtains do not stir, not a hair visible from behind the couch and the click clack is getting louder and louder and louder...
You can taste the suspense in the air, as if it were making love, the foreplay builds up, over and over for the climax...
Click clack.
::Happy Birthday::
Ende.
2/15 -- Alternative Faerie Tale
Her boots thumped on the gravel, slick with rain and she almost tripped one time. But she never fell. It took her a single breath and she recovered, boots thumping again and feet flying as if the devil were on her heels.
Red hair, shinning bright red hair, billowed in the wind behind her like a mane or a flag a proud carrier might wave to inspire courage in the hearts of warriors. Fa did not stop running. She would never stop running until she found it.
The sound of the sea pounded everywhere around her and she desperately wanted to throw herself to the waves. But she couldn't. Not anymore.
She wondered when it started. When it happened without her realizing.
He did not love her anymore.
His eyes, though adoring of her beauty, never looked at her with the total trust of giving all of one self to another being. His smile, though admiring, never offered her all the pleasures of the world, and his touch no longer sent shivers of warmth racing through her body anymore.
She wondered when it started. Fa doesn't not remember when the sea became a siren and its endless call became more alluring than her name on his tongue.
He was a fake prince, she decided. Real enough for her to give up everything for him, but not real enough to make it last.
The water in her blood sung with rage and she swore a neverending vow. She would find him, her real prince, that would make this all worthwhile.
She had to, or she would die from emptiness.
::The little mermaid has grown up and she sees the world for what it is.::
3/15 -- Like a moth drawn to a flame, you wish to be a butterfly.
She is sure, very, utterly, and devotedly sure, that he is the one. His eyes are a bright blue that shines down on her, brighter than any sky, than any stream, for they are bright with love for her and she basks in it.
It is those eyes that glare daggers at any male that approaches her, those eyes that narrow in anger when she is in danger. It is those eyes that stay ever fixed on her as they make love, as if afraid should he blink, she will disappear.
He makes one feel special. Very, very precious. The he holds one tight to him, your head against his broad chest, his arms protective and warm.
He is the one.
You know this because he is the only person you have loved to the point tears, missed until there is nothing but hysterical laughter left, and ached for until you had no words left.
He is the only person who says I love you with so much passion and fire that you are not afraid of being burned up.
::You love him so much that you don't remember when third person became second. He has always been your first.::
