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Run your fingers through my hair one last time.
Tell me what you remember.
Rowena curled herself up in the nook of a tree, her long hair spilling out around her like sap from a saw-blade wound. Her breathing was slow, her face calm, but her hands gripped her face, covering her eyes as she quietly rocked herself like a child. The dress she was wearing mimicked so many others before it, elegant yet overdone, deep blue peacock that stirred up memories in some mind but just looked garish to others. Her hat, fallen to the ground with no intent of being picked up, had a feather that was almost glued on in a cocking manner, big and overpowering everything else on the velvet fabric.
It was meant to draw attention but only for a moments glance for most, but captivate the eye of only a few. It was Rowenas way of screaming into the endless void of time- Remember this? Do you still remember me? She hated the blue fabric, she had hated it since she donned it a decade ago or so, but time softens memories until they’re mush to be scooped into a nostalgic mind, and Rowena was about to abuse that system to get as much attention from a group of specific people as much she could.
Disappearing into the forest and being seen by only one person does something to someone, and Rowena wasn’t ready to be forgotten. Not yet at least.
Her dressing mimicked those of a courtesans of her home country, designed to draw the eye of a man to her, to show off her status, her wealth, and most of all, her beauty. In the past, she would’ve prided herself on her dressage, used it as more bricks to the pedestal she held herself on, more reason that she was simply better than she actually was. A mask, but a beautiful mask.
Rowena felt none of those emotions. Although she could feel protection whenever she slipped into elegant garments such as the one she was wearing, the positive feelings stopped at that. She hated pretending, she had always been a rather brash and upfront person, not afraid to speak her own mind, but she could do none of that in her armor of sorts. It was ungainly, improper, her social status, the real weapon behind everything, quickly torn down. What is a knight without his sword? Armor protects yes, but it doesnt defend.
Rumors could spread like wildfire.
And Rowena was like a wooden doll doused in oil.
One of her greatest secrets, the dynamite she kept hidden in all the layers of dress she wore, was buried amidst the other snakes fine ladies and gentlemen she had mingled with just earlier that day. Serafina was a match among paper, she had uncontrollable power and didn’t yet understand the consequences of it. She was easily blinded by her bright flame, and many times throughout their secret courtship she just wanted to blow it out. Rowena used to consider her an idiot when it came to the social aspect, but she had been painfully naive this entire time.
Like dynamite to flame, Serafina could destroy Rowenas armor and blade in just a second, and she knew that. Like match to an explosive, they were never meant to be. Secretly, before the proposal, before the announcement, she had hoped Serafina would be blind enough to suggest they run off together. That they could be together. It sounded like something she would suggest.
But deep down, it turns out that Serafina shared the same thoughts on their relationship as Rowena had.
They could kill eachother with a single misstep. One trip or slip up on Serafinas part and everyone would know. Being the masters fiancée has its perks for sure, but she was always the center of attention, and people loved to talk. At least they had both agreed on that, the first thing they agreed upon together in probably the history of their entire friend- no, courtship.
Run your fingers through my hair one last time.
And she had obeyed.
It was half an hour before the ceremony of course, and she couldn’t afford to ruin her hair, but she didn’t want their last memory of being together them fighting. You cant just beat fire with fire. So with Serafina curled up in her arms, like the stupid cat that she was, Rowena pressed her lips together hard and gently pressed her fingers starting at her scalp then ran them down her long, thick hair.
She purred, like a kitten.
She couldn’t believe she had never noticed that.
They stayed like that for a while, they had long since said the things they had each wanted to tell eachother, and even though Rowena wanted to say more, she stayed silent. When the maid knocked on the door they separated, both friends again, both just connected in childhood kinship, nothing more.
Rowena couldn’t bear to watch the ceremony, even with how beautiful everyone said it would be, so for the first time in forever she risked having sparks fly and slipped out the back door. Now she was here, mourning something that was doomed from the start. She knew she should’ve felt lucky, that it hadn’t imploded on her with their colliding personalities, but what is dynamite without warmth?
What was her purpose if she never had to fear being lit up again?
Her fire, her warmth had been extinguished, so she secretly wished that it had imploded. That she had gone down in flames.
At least she’d die alive, a burning star instead of the cold isolated moon she had made herself become.