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mysteira6 · 4 years

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FukaFlower - Holding Your Left Hand

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Summary:

She wasn’t gonna let him feel bad for holding his left hand.

Setting: Fukase and Flower are in the same high school grade and are around 17 - 18 years old. Also, they’re already a couple in this one-shot. Read on for fluff, angst and a little sweet moment at the end. ^3^

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Autumn-coloured lamps decorated the streets, surrounding the many stalls by the pathway in a warm-coloured glow. Young adults in ankle-length yukatas and young children with bags of candy and treats in their hands littered the road before them, the small-talk between groups of teens and squeals of delight amongst children filling their ears. Stall owners left and right were hollering customers over, hoping to catch their attention to play their games or buy their fun-coloured snacks.

The white-haired teen blinked at the sight. “Wow,” She muttered. “I know Miku was warning us when she said this year’s carnival would be ‘packed as sardines’, but I wasn’t expecting it to be this… crowded…”

She heard a light-hearted chuckle from the young man standing beside her. “Welp, I guess that’s a lesson learnt,” He said jokingly.

“What lesson?”

As he turned to her, his scarlet right eye sparkled jovially. “That we should actually listen to the ‘popular diva’ instead of assuming that she only talks about rumours,” He noted, another laugh emerging from his mouth.

The thought of that made her narrow her eyes a little. “I’m not so sure about that, Fukase,” She murmured skeptically, shaking her head. “She talks more about gossip than anything remotely useful-”

“But if we had listened to her, then we wouldn’t be caught in this human traffic jam now, wouldn’t we?” The redhead replied, though soon after, he heaved a sigh and shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “Oh well, we’re here anyway and the night is young, Flower! Hopefully, the crowd will thin out in a bit,”

Despite her initial disappointment of not having a peaceful stroll with him, the optimistic grin on his face was enough to wash her negativity away. Of course he would try to cheer her up like this. After all, this date was his idea, something that he came up with during their lunch hour when all the other students were talking about the upcoming summer festival and how carnivals were being set up in dozens of neighbourhoods. Given that they had just finished their school term, it seemed like a perfect time to start their summer break with a fun little getaway with just the two of them.

Flower puffed in mild annoyance. When Fukase asked her to go to the carnival in their neighbourhood together, she got giddy with excitement as she always was when it came to their dates. That was one of the strangest things about being with him; somehow, he had managed to break down her curt demeanor and unpack her sweet side that very few people saw. All it took was him being a cheerful jokester who not only tried his best to make everyone smile, but also possessed a kind heart to help anyone he could. Funny then, that he would be interested, and eventually fall in love with, a pessimistic girl who was essentially a stoic emotional wall.

Oh well. Life can be that weird sometimes. In fact, what was more weird was that as he talked to her everyday, cracking a joke here and there, Flower found herself becoming more conscious of how she presented herself in front of him. The little things that she barely cared about before gradually took priority in her appearance as he tried everyday to make her smile a little. Smoothing out her skirt and brushing her hair behind her ears were only two of the dozen things that crossed her mind as soon as she heard him talking to her.

Tonight was no exception to her new routine of fussing over her appearance; as soon as she got home, Flower immediately made a beeline for her preppy younger sister, Xin Hua, who was lounging on the sofa and scrolling through the feed on her phone as usual. However, after Flower explained her situation, the cobalt-haired teen quickly placed her phone aside and partook in the giddy excitement that her older sister was feeling. One trip to Sachiko’s yukata gallery and another to Mizki’s hair accessory treasury was enough for the aspiring fashionista to dress her sister up for her special summer date.

“Flower? Flower!” The sight of his bandaged hand waving front of her was enough to snap the short-haired teen back to reality, her violet eyes blinking a few times to readjust her field of vision. “Hey, are you okay?” Fukase asked her, a worried frown inscribed on his lips as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“O-oh, sorry, I… I’m okay,” She stuttered in embarrassment, slightly ashamed that she spaced out in the middle of nowhere. Her instinctive reaction of looking down whenever she got awkward got her looking at the yukata that Xin Hua had picked for her. It was of a deep violet shade, accompanied by prints of lavender and white coloured cherry-blossoms and outlines of round lanterns scattered across her sleeves and skirt. She had a grape-purple obi tied around her waist to keep her outfit together and Ms Sachiko even gave her complimentary wooden sandals and a hickory-coloured basket for her necessities to complete the ensemble. ‘Cherish your youth’, she had said with a warm smile after Flower had told her the reason for her purchase.

Meanwhile, Fukase chuckled at her quiet response and quietly slid his right hand under her chin, gently lifting her gaze to look at him. There wasn’t an obvious height difference between them (except for a few centimeters that Flower had but Fukase didn’t) but even then, Flower felt rather small under the gaze of his right eye, his left one being concealed under his white eye patch. Having him stand close to her also allowed her to take in his outfit for the night; a muted red yukata with black lines resembling tree branches drawn on its cloth all held together by a thin bright red obi.

“You sure?” He smirked at her like a cheeky devil would, the jokester side of him showing. “You’re blushing, you know,”

His words rooted her to the spot. “No, I am not!”

“Sharp response. I thought you were a kuudere, not a tsundere,”

“I-Does that really matter right now?!”

Her flustered response was met with a fit of laughter from Fukase, his red curls dancing in the air as he shook his head jokingly. “I kid! I kid!” He sang out as he held his hands up as if surrendering. “Please spare me from your silent treatment, Hana-chan~”

She puffed her cheeks. “You’re only lucky that I decided to dress up for tonight and I don’t want to ruin our date,”

“Oh right, I was gonna say,” His expression lit up as he continued. “You look… as pretty as a flower tonight,”

He half-heartedly expected a startled response and was unsurprised when she only snarkily replied: “A pun-related flirt isn’t going to get to me, Fukase,” Of course she’d say something like that.

“Darnnit, that didn’t work as well as I had hoped,” He pretended to be upset for a moment before raising his right hand towards her, cueing the snow-haired girl to blink at him a few times.

“Well anyway,” He began, tilting his head at her cutely. “Now that we’ve been chatting here for a while, I believe it’s about time for us to head down there, yeah?”

She found herself beaming as she accepted his hand. “Yes, let’s,”

~*~*~*~*~

“Come and catch your own kingyo! Only 200 yen to bring one home!”

“Fresh shaved ice and candied apples for sale! Come and get them before they’re gone!”

As their evening continued, the crowd really did grow thinner as most of the younger children were brought home by their parents and some of the teenagers were heading home as well. Since the both of them were night owls on a daily basis, the moon climbing up the sky did not bother them. Fukase’s enthusiasm for them to visit every stall did not falter even as the night went on. Beside him, Flower held tightly to his right hand, a small smile on her face as she witnessed him bring her all around the carnival. She could tell that he was excited for it.

“Are you hungry? We should get some mochi here,”

“I think those pinwheel headbands would look cute on you,”

“Hey, this fruit tea tastes great! Try some!”

Perhaps it was a little selfish for her to say it, but Flower really liked the attention that he was giving her tonight. It wasn’t odd for Fukase to treat her so kindly (he was literally known for being the kindest person for a lot of people) but hearing him talk to her alone made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, a feeling that only he could generate. However, tonight it felt like Fukase’s gentlemanly nature was much more prominent than usual… Was it because they were wearing such fancy clothes?

Whatever the reason was, she didn’t really care about it. After all, who would turn down a kind, pampering boyfriend like him? Even though Flower was slow to understand social norms as a wallflower, she knew enough to recognise that Fukase was kind of spoiling her (not that she was complaining, mind you).

Her train of thought was interrupted when something at a shelf on her left managed to catch her attention, silently motioning her to get closer to the stall with multi-coloured stacks of cans lined up in pyramidal formation behind its counter. She couldn’t take her eyes off one of the prizes at the game stall; a small lavender rabbit with a translucent maroon ribbon wrapped around its neck and a top hat sewn onto its head. Its subtle resemblance to Fukase’s normal outfit was probably what caught her eye.

“Whatcha looking at?” The very person she was thinking about turned his head in the same direction as she was facing, his eyes scanning the game stall for whatever had caught her attention. “Do you see that little rabbit on the shelf?” Flower whispered to him while leaning close to his ear. “It’s kinda cute. I just thought that it looked like you in your coat, doesn’t it?”

The redhead has his eyes trained on the stuffed toy that had caught his girlfriend’s attention. It didn’t take him long to mutter a ‘let’s head over there’ as he brought them both over to the stall, his hand never letting go of her despite her initial surprise. After he forked out some coins for the stall owner, a basket with brightly coloured plastic balls was placed in front of him, the challenge of knocking over all the cans in three hits now laying before him.

“Fukase, you don’t have to do this for me,” The white-haired girl standing behind him said timidly, a bit uneasy that he decided to play this game just for her.

The redhead smiled at her. “But I want to,” He simply said, picking up the first ball from the basket. “Besides, you like that rabbit doll, right?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Then just sit tight and watch me win it for you!” He gleefully replied as he aimed for the base of one of the can pyramids before hurling his ball at them, nailing a hit on the cans at the bottom for his first throw. The coloured cans tumbled onto the table with loud clatters and clangs as the pyramid fell, knocking down all the obstacles quickly. He grinned at his victory.

“Wow, you got them all in one shot!” The stall owner commended, lightly clapping her hands to his success. “Congratulations! You’re welcomed to choose any prize you want for winning,”

“Any prize?” Fukase glanced over to her as the lady nodded, her satin pink hair bouncing up and down. He soon turned his eyes back to the little rabbit that Flower had been eyeing this whole time, the smile on his face widening. “Can I have the little rabbit over there? The one of that shelf, please,”

“Sure thing!” She replied as she gently lifted the rabbit doll off the shelf and handed it over to him. “Thank you for playing!” The store owner sang out as Fukase received the doll from her, turning back to his girlfriend. Holding out the lavender rabbit doll in his two hands, he smiled warmly at her. “Ta-da! Here you go, Flower,”

Her face shone as she held the doll in her hands, now able to marvel its cuteness up close. It really did look similar to Fukase in his fancy outfit. “Thank you,” She unknowingly broke into a wide smile as she petted the rabbit’s head the same way she did to Point, Fukase’s pet doll. “It’s really cute…” She giggled.

He grinned at her, a warm feeling washing over him at the sight of Flower’s smile. It never failed to make him smile back at her, or to make his cheeks feel a little warmer than usual. Deep down, he wished she did that all the time, but he also understood her take on it; it was better to let her slowly get into the habit of smiling instead of forcing it on her.

Instead, he raised his hand towards her again, hoping to continue their stroll through the carnival until he noticed which one he was holding up to her. In a hasty maneuver, Fukase swiftly relocated himself to be standing on her right side as he offered his hand to her again, disregarding the confused expression on her face. “Shall we go back to the path, milady?”

She giggled again at his formal demeanor. “You don’t have to be so formal,” She quickly packed her new rabbit doll into her basket as she accepted his hand again. Although she was already well aware of his odd behaviour from before, Flower knew better to not bring it up and make him embarrassed.

Unfortunately, the more she thought about it, the more it started to bug her. Especially when she started to realise how often such situations would occur multiple times that night. Upon closer inspection, there was one thing that they all had in common; the fact that Fukase had never let her hold his left hand.

As much as she didn’t want to sound like some prissy girl complaining on their date, the urge to ask him about it was stronger than those worries. “Hey, Fukase?” The white-haired teen began, tugging a little on their interlocked hands to get his attention. “Can I… ask you something?”

He eagerly turned to her. “What is it?”

“Can I hold your left hand?”

The question alone was enough to wash his bright smile away, replacing it with an astonished frown on his face and a startled expression in his eye. His footsteps immediately stopped in the middle of the pathway as his grip on her hand tightened a little. For a while, Flower started to regret asking that question; she would’ve not done so if it meant that she was going to be subjected to him staring at her, downright baffled at her words. Now, she felt as if she was riveted to the ground by his gaze, feeling her heart climbing up her throat as she gulped loudly.

Fortunately for her, he broke their staring contest by turning his head away from her for a bit, his left hand covered from top to bottom in bandages rising up to cover his face. In a low, apologetic tone, he muttered: “Uh, sorry about that,”

She was speechless. “Eh?”

“I know you don’t like it when people stare at you, so… sorry that I was doing that just now.” He hastily apologised before continuing. “A-anyway, why do you want to h-hold my left hand? I mean-! Is there a reason? N-not that you have to tell me, wait I mean-!”

As the redhead stumbled over his words, the gears in Flower’s head started turning. A line of stuttering dialogue from Fukase convinced her that her asking him about it was the right thing to do; in a normal everyday conversation, he would never ever trip over his own words. As far as she could remember, his confidence in speaking has never failed him, only faltering a little whenever Flower managed to sneak a sweet, unintentionally affectionate line of dialogue to him. So to hear him uncharacteristically stutter so much while talking to her normally… Flower quickly realised that something was up.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, Fukase,” She tried to ameliorate the situation, hoping that he wasn’t too embarrassed. “I’m really sorry that I asked it so randomly-”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” He trailed off as his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze shifted to the sight of his left, bandaged, roughly-surfaced hand. A sigh left his lips; he was gonna have to tell her something eventually, so why wait?

“The truth is,” He started, hoping that he didn’t sound too nervous. “No one… has ever held my left hand before…”

“Why?” She blurted out as her curiosity overrode her politeness.

“I never offered it to them,” He explained slowly, gaining a bit more confidence as he confessed to her. “I mean, you know how my hand looks; it’s a mess. And even with these bandages, it’s still really… you know, coarse and rough,”

Flower found herself frowning at the mention of what his left hand really looked like. It called back a past memory of their time together, when Fukase had told her the events that caused him to look as he is now. That day, he even slowly, very gingerly, took off his bandages and eye patch to show her the scars he had hidden from everyone for so long, the damaged side of him that he refused to show in public in the fear that he would be met with disgust and disdain.

But on the contrary to his fear of Flower leaving him, Fukase was embraced by her love and adoration for him, the emotions in her that he managed to call out now being gifted to him instead as some form of mutual bond. In the same way that he helped her break down her emotional barriers, she had helped him overcome his trauma-induced obstacles. It was a relationship between them that nothing in the world could break.

And tonight was just another testament to it, Fukase realised as Flower quickly shook off his hold on her own hand, instead reaching for his left, roughly-surfaced one covered in white straps of cloth. Her fingers brushed across his as she matched them to line up with hers, a small yet ever-so-kind smile on her face encased in her lips. Fukase unknowingly gulped at the sight of his girlfriend looking at him with so much kindness and care, her beauty brought out even more tonight with her neatly combed tomboyish hair and lilac-coloured butterfly pin.

“Fukase,” She broke the silence between them as she whispered softly. “Does it feel any different when I hold your hand like this?”

He averted his eyes at her question. “Well, for me, it feels the same but for you-”

“It’s the same for me too, you know,” She interrupted him gently, shifting her right hand to the side a little as she interlocked their hands together. “I know you’re always worried about how your scars might change how I see you, but… You know that’s never gonna happen, right?”

As soon as she spotted the skepticism in his eyes, she took it as a sign to continue. “Whichever hand I’m holding doesn’t matter to me so long as it’s yours, Fukase. You don’t have to be worried about how you look when you’re with me; I don’t mind any of it at all,”

“ … Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Besides,” She chuckled as she recalled another memory. “Didn’t I already tell you before that I liked your scars?”

“W-well yeah, but…” After baring out the truth to her, the red-haired boy felt unnaturally vulnerable, the somewhat playful tone in her voice making him blush. He still wasn’t used to her telling him that she liked the permanent markings on his skin. For a long time, he hated them and wished that they would just disappear, especially since they were a reminder of that dark side of him. And yet to listen to her words when she said that she liked them… it felt like letting go of a breath of air that he’d be holding for a long time. ‘Because they’re a part of you too’, Flower had told him back then. ‘That’s why I like them’

Meanwhile, the girl standing before him gently pulled their interlocked hands back down, her left hand holding tightly to her basket as she turned back to the path. “I really don’t mind holding your left hand, Fukase,” She reassured him again with a soft smile. “So… let’s keep this date going, okay?”

Flower hadn’t even taken one step forward before she was tugged back towards the red-haired boy, his uncalloused hand cupping her face as he pulled her closer to him. Just like the beginning of their date when he had commented on her blushing cheeks, the snow-haired teen found herself hypnotized by his armour-piercing gaze, his right red eye staring intently at her for a short while only to soften as he leaned his face close to her, closing his eyes and landing his lips onto hers. As her cheeks heated up like red-hot iron, she knew in absolute certainty that she was blushing now.

It seemed as if time stood still as Fukase kissed her, the action and noises in their surroundings seeming to pause as her eyelids slid shut in conjunction to his daring public display of affection, his head tilting slightly to deepen their kiss as Flower mimicked his actions. It felt like hours had slipped by them as they parted from their kiss, the commotion from the carnival returning to their field of vision and awareness.

Fukase’s face was almost as red as his hair as he chuckled lightly, his iconic bright smile back on his face. “Hana-chan, thank you,” His voice was teeming with gratitude as he thanked her. “You always seem to know exactly what to say,”

Flower was blushing equally as much, her wallflower shyness emerging from her. “I’m just being honest,” She humbly replied.

“How in the world did I get a girlfriend as amazing as you?”

“I could say the same for you, you know,”

“Me? What did I do?”

“I mean, how in the world did I get a boyfriend as sweet and funny as you?”

“Hey! Don’t copy my words!”

“But it’s true!”

The both of them laughed at each other’s antics, their hands interlocked with one another as they continued to stroll down the dirt-trodden path.

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A/N: GAAAAAHHHH these two make me soft~ ;-;

#fukase #fukaflower #vocaloid fukase #vflower #v4flower #vocaloid #flokase #fukasexflower #flowerxfukase #ship #vocaloid ship #carnival #festival #date #yukata

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imtryingthisout · 4 years

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A World Grown Backwards and Inside Out: The Tree and The Child

Synopsis: A reverse Au based on @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors wonderful story Love and Other Fairytales

Warnings: Descriptions of Rot, one guy acting a fool, ask for more

Word Count: 1922

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Once there was a tree that grew on the outskirts of the forest, right on the edge of civilization and nature. Straddling both sides with sweeping branches and open arms.

It was a mighty fine tree. With a thick heavy trunk and bark that laid like scales on a snake. Overlapping and building on top of one another till it created a hearty cover over the cambium. Healthy green leaves sprouted from its limbs and provided ample shade in the summertime, where the tree would shield those under it. Protecting them from the sun’s harsh rays.

It was a good old tree, a kind old tree, who loved the all children of Wickhills. The human ones who played under it’s skirt of leaves. The wild ones who hid in the shadows of its embrace. But the ones that were caught in the inbetween, the little curious ones who danced on the borderline and were drawn to the other side too much to leave it be, those were the children that the tree loved most of all.

But just because it was old and kind and fine, did not mean it wasn’t a tree. Did not mean it was untouchable. Wood rots no matter how loved it is, and rot it did. The sickness started at the edges, the little branches that sprouted from the ends of the tips of the furthest limbs. But no one noticed, because the shining children who would climb to see those branches had grown up. Slower than others might, but They grew up all the same. They turned Their eyes to the burning throne, where they found a new playground in the courtly revels. And no longer cared to look upon the tree. To eat its brambles and sleep in it’s arms.

Because the tree was a fine one, but not a Fair one, the folk of the forest cared for it no longer.

Spring turned into Summer and rot spreads faster in the heat. It festered in the tree’s arms and slithered down it’s neck.

The human children grew into themselves and turned into human adults. They got human jobs and earned human money and wanted human partners. Soon their days were filled to the brim. It wasn’t as if they didn't want to visit the tree, they were just too busy. There was work to do and food to make and children to rear and--

And so they did not notice how it’s vivid green leaves dulled and turned brown. How its bark twisted and fell and shed. They were far too busy with their lives. “Money doesn’t grow on trees,” they’d say, but neither did it buy happiness.

Because the tree was an old one, but not a profitable one, the humans cared for it no longer.

Summer cooled down like a dying corpse, and they called that decay Autumn. The air chilled and the sun hid behind the clouds that gathered above the earth. Every day the world grew more and more dark.

From the tips to the head, down the spine and to the bed, the rot traveled further and further.

Winter came. Winter came not with a storm nor with a flash. There was no warm knock on the door nor letter of attendance. It came, as it always did in those recent years, with a whisper. A slow crawl. Summer died and Autumn decayed and as time peeled back the layers of decomposition and ruined flesh, slowly (ever so slowly) the exposed bones became Winter.

And Winter meant so many things. It meant shorter days and longer nights. It meant the human children did not go outside to venture to the edge of the town. It meant the Fae were busy chasing shadows and playing court. It meant the tree would die alone.

Not even the wayward ones, the in-between children, the onesso loved by the tree would visit. They had grown up. They had picked sides. They squashed down their curiosity and settled into life like how a stone settles into mud.

Like how a mold settles into bark. Settles and spreads and eats and eats and eats and eats---

Once there was a boy. A sweet little boy who had kind eyes and a quick smile. This boy loved the tree and the tree loved him in turn. Loved how his hair grew upward and out like it’s own branches. Loved how he would sleep on its roots and leave a portion of his meals for the tree to eat. How he would dance around in the fields and try to touch the moon with his hands.

The boy grew up, got married to a woman with eyes keen and beautiful. A woman with a lovely voice and strong arms who could lift him up so that he might reach higher, higher, higher. Higher to grasp for the stars.

But even the boy grew up and chose a side, but unlike so many of his brothers, he remembered.

He went out during Winter-

He left his house during Winter-

He braved the storm during Winter-

He walked. Out. Outside. It was Winter. And Winter is cold. Cold and bitter and hungry. It freezes the world in a single moment and refuses to let go until Spring. It bites and wails and crushes heat like ants under its heels.

Winter is a petulant, greedy, child. And the no-longer-boy braves it’s bitter tantrum.

He travels down the town’s road and his memories. Cobbled pavement hard and slick with ice. As he walked the stones turned to patted dirt and the patted dirt turned to dead grass that crunched like ice under his boots.

It was Summertime last time he walked down this path (so ingrained in his bones he scarcely had to think). The end of Summer, right before the leaves turned gold-orange-red, when the days were still long but the air was crisp and sharp. A setting sun season, teetering on the edge of day and night.

They’d played for hours back then, him and the other children, ran around like spinning tops across the narrow fields. They were mindful enough to never stray too far into the forest, but that was all they were mindful of. Time, exhaustion, the world outside their little corner, did not exist to them. They ran around with eyes full of youth and skin glistening in the falling sun. Little starlight children, caught in between dusk and dawn.

And above them all was the tree. Always present, always watching, with a hundred dark and careful eyes and a hundred long and reaching arms.

This was how the tree looked in the boys' memories. Larger than life and twice as vivid, an image warped by time and nostalgia. Rounding around Miller’s Bridge, into the thin clearing of frozen grass and land that divides Wickhills and the Forest, the not-boy came face to face with reality.

Black and yellow. A twisted spire protruding from the ice-gray ground. Stuck out like a knotted wound. Darkened rot covered the decrypt figure like a thick winter coat. Standing out in front of the myriad of naked trees, the thin broken things with claws for branches and ribs for tunks, turned pale and ashen in the Winter. It was a corpse among the sleeping. Even those standing giants looked more lively than it. The thing that was no longer the tree.

And all around it’s stomach was the lashings of yellow fungus, that had come to feast on the crumbling flesh of the thing. The rot that spread from the furthest branches to the deepest roots. The rot that kills from the outside in.

The Not-Boy placed a gloved hand on the trunk. Rested a forehead on its chest. He was a carpenter, not a healer, and even he knew it was too late to stop nature. Everything that comes from the earth will eventually return to it. He knew that. Everyone knows that.

But because the tree was a loved one, and love means something. Always. The Once-Boy would not let it fall alone in the night.

The rot was a sickness that infected and burrowed. The bark was long eaten and the branches long fallen. But when he struck into the tree with his axe, the Man discovered a wondrous sight. The heart-wood was not touched by the disease that riddled the body, it stood as good and healthy as any prime oak’s.

So with a heavy and joy-filled heart, he cut down the tree, and carefully cleaned the black from it’s heart and the rot from it’s bones.

He took that wood home, and fastened a crib for his expectant wife. So that his child may too grow up cradled in the heart of the Tree. Loved and protected just as he once was. Him and all the other in-between children, playing on the edge of the sky.

In nine months time, a child will come, being born into the house that carries the tree love. The babe will be born on the first snow-fall of the season, when the air is cool and the hearth blazing. A son, wrapped in furs and nestled inside of the pale wood of his cradle. And they named him Cerdic.

--------------------------------

The girl was a quiet child, far too quiet some would say. With too large eyes and a wispy figure. Not skinny enough to cast a shadow.

Teachers would find her on the outskirts of the playground. Standing away from any commotion or company. Watching, watching, seldomly speaking or making noise. Mrs. Sherman the second grade teacher confesses that it’s hard to remember that the child exists sometimes, when caught in the loudness of the moment. Mr. Ferguson once tried to joke, “Are you sure that babe is yours? Seems like the Folk of the Frost might’ve gotten confused, forgot that snow is not skin when making the switch-”

Her Pop’s didn't like Mr. Ferguson's jokes, and neither did Ma, if the twitching in her fingers were any indicator. So Mr. Ferguson left their shop followed by tight smiles and shaking hands and did not make a joke in front of them again.

All the while, none of the adults seemed to notice the girl playing by herself in the corner.

Lily-White had three older siblings. A brother named Ash who was off in college with a full ride scholarship. Two sisters called Prim-Rose and Lacey-Anne who terrorized the halls of Wickhills high. Her herself was not the youngest, Maple was the baby of the house, barely two years old. Quiet, patient, not outgoing or extroverted, a small content child, who did not demand attention or help. Lily-White should have been a wallflower at best. Drowned out and ignored by peers and adults. And she was- almost.

Lily-White was not really named Lily-White. When her Ma was thinking up names for the child growing in her belly, she and Pa had come to a decision. If it was a boy they would name him Sorrel, and if it was a girl they would name her Lily-Rose. With that in mind, all was well. However, when the day that the babe came, born on the last eve of winter, silent as snow and just as pale. Pa was so shaken up that he accidentally wrote down Lily-White, in crooked letters, on the birth certificate. Cause that's what she was, sleeping in her mother’s dark arms, a lily white moon-child in a family of night.

And she was loved.

#sander sides #sander sides au #fic #writing #A World Grown Backwards au #love and other fairytales #Laoft White #orginal characters

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