☽ Hᴏᴩᴇ﹠Hᴇᴀʀᴛ ☾ · @seabiirds
7th Jul 2018 from TweetCaster
Alina laughed warmly as her mother carefully braided her lengthy hair, waving a hand to shoo away stray flames that sprung up. She didn't mind them — neither of them did anymore, both were too used to it. And though her elven mother wasn't fireproof (or even resistant), she didn't care for it. Too many burn scars covered the kindly woman for her to fret now.
"Ataraaaa, how much longer, we're gonna be late for the circus!"
"Not much, amin tinu. Sit still, alright?"
The young sorceress bounced a touch, though she made a visible effort to sit still - hands holding her crossed legs tightly and body anxiously, excitedly stiff. She even closed her eyes to give her full intent, and sat up straight as an arrow the moment she felt the hefty weight of a lengthy braid being lifted and curled meticulously, artistically around her head.
"Hand me those pins please?"
"Mmhm!" Was Alina's instant response, slender arm darting to snag several at once and wriggling one in-between her index and thumb to offer it to her mother. Once it was taken, she took to very meticulously setting them out one by one at her hip, where both her mother and Alina could see and reach.
"Atara, do you think there will be a storyteller there like last year! Or, oh! One of those bird men! What are they again?" Alina attempted to tilt or twist her head, but it resulted in no movement whatsoever. She tried.
"Perhaps, tinu, perhaps. And aarakocra. You think of aarakocra. Be still!" Her laugh was tinting her voice into a warm tone, and Alina had a playful smile that kept her energy high. But she listened, and in a minute or so, the braid was pinned securely to the back of her head in an elegant manner. When her mother gently tapped both of Alina's shoulders, the exuberant child bounced up and darted to the nearest reflective surface she could. She tilted her head this way and that and tested the sturdiness with a few swift, hard turns and bounces, before grinning ear to ear. She turned to her mother, and almost pounced on the taller woman with a tight embrace.
Though she was reminded, instantly, that it was a bad idea, when the woman threw up a harmless but solid wall of vines. Druidcraft, and Alina gave a sheepish laugh and tucked her hands to herself. She… tends to forget her touch very often brings fire, and something like full contact is a recipe for disaster.
She learned the hard way, as a much smaller child - she was meant to have a sibling but. That didn't last long. She doesn't remember it clearly, just the fire and the absense of weight in her arms after. Her parent's didn't blame her, but she blamed herself. Quietly, where nobody could see.
It was a moment of silence before she could find her happy energy again, and she beamed at her mother just as her father knocked twice and entered. His face lit up immediately, and he descended upon his daughter to plant a Fatherly Kiss to her forehead and placed a gentle finger under her chin to have her turn this way and that.
"Isilme, you have outdone yourself with our daughter as always," When he moved to Alina's mother's side and planted a more affectionate kiss to the side of her head, Alina made a point to hide her face with a loud 'eeew!' noise, As Children Do. Which only prompted laughter.
"Mela, please, it's just a braid. We should be going, it is a special day after all. Lye tinu's birthday and all." And she looked proud, just as Alina had stood up and smoothed her dress, anxiously slipping on her shoes and darting to the door.
Things were nice, and Alina was happy in this life. Two loving parents, a comfortable home, a cozy town. Sure the occasional bad thing happened, but that was life. Even with the phoenix soul that lingered within her, she lead a content life.
If only she knew this would be her last happy day. Maybe she would've begged to stay home. Maybe she would've declined the ringmaster's beckoning to call her down as a volunteer. Maybe she would've said no to taking that acrobat's hands.
Maybe she would've done more to save all those people that day.
Instead, when the fire started, she ran. She ran and she hated herself. Initially blamed herself, before the whispers of loneliness and guilt and then anger convinced her it was everyone else's fault.
'They knew I was dangerous!' These voices said. 'They knew it was their demise! They just wanted me to feel bad!'
For a long time, it ate her. For a long time, she pinned it on herself. Until one day, something snapped. Another circus was passing by where she was, and a different ringmaster had beckoned her down. Did the song and dance. Asked her to perform a talent she had.
That was where she snapped. Something in her mind had her heart twisted, wrenched so deeply that she believed burning the tent to the ground with everyone inside would solve her problems. She didn't feel remorse, or guilt — she felt joy. Delight, even, as she burned nearly three dozen people in a tent to nothingness. The phoenix's soul within her burned harder, brighter, more painfully. It begged freedom.
She later came to learn how to fireproof things. Necessary, really; but her twisted mind used this to her advantage. She took it as a way to… mock her past. To start her own little 'circus.' More of a freakshow, really. She hunted down rare creatures, damaged them just enough to render them incapable of fighting back. And then, she forced them to perform, lest they be burned at her whim.
She doesn't outwardly seem as twisted as she is, oh no. Nowadays, she still holds her exuberant, delightful demeanour. But behind closed doors, this is the woman that cackled as a fiend while so many lives were lost to her fire.
Though some say when they pass by the circus after hours, they claim to hear loud, heart-wrenching sobs shuddering from one of the sleeping caravans. It is forever unsure if it is of pain or grief, or a twisted mix of both. But all know that the Ringmaster Cross is as mysterious as she is enchanting.