Stories For The Hopeless Romantic

Three ~ Lilian & Violet

Coins In A Fountain ~  Passenger

There was a girl. Lilian. Whose name flowed as easily from other's lips as the magic did from her own two hands. She was downright music. Some say she didn't walk so much as float over the ground, blessing everyone she passed just by being there. She was beautiful. Gentle waves in blonde hair and watery blue eyes framed by luscious lashes and underlined by a spattering of freckles that really brought meaning to the phrase "angel kisses." Lilian could command nature with a wave of her hand. Sunlight shined, flowers grew, rain fell, trees parted, at the flick of her fingers. She could conduct the world like an orchestra, wind whistling through trees at her gentle command. If you focused, and I mean really focused, you could see the beams of light flowing from her fingertips as she bewitched the universe.

But she also shook. Her fingers trembled and her legs bounced. Often times, Lilian felt her chest constrict and her heart pound against her ribs. She found herself struggling to breathe, struggling to think, struggling to function. She got stuck on the littlest things and worried them until they exploded, sending her into full on panic. These were times when no magic, or beauty, or gracefulness could help her. But someone else's hands could.

Those hands belonged to another girl. Violet. Whose name was as sharp and violent as she. Her hands released magic in bolts and cracks, flying out of her in a flash and striking her target with deafening accuracy. She was beautiful, yes, but in a hard kind of way. Her hair was naturally unkempt and frizzy, filled with tiny, tiny curls that surrounded her head in a cloud. Her eyes were astoundingly purple and sharp, and a single glance form her could frighten anyone. Except Lilian.

Because when Lilian was shaking so hard that she couldn't even light a spark from her palms, Violet's hands held Lilian's, cradled them in her surprisingly soft palms until they stilled. Violet wrapped Lilian in her arms and helped her breathe a little slower, helped her mind return to happier, calmer things.

And when Violet was fuming, so angry that her vision turned red and she flung curses every which way, Lilian merely placed herself in front of Violet and laid her magic fingers on Violet's shoulders or rubbed her bewitched thumbs over Violet's cheeks. She filled Violet's vision so the fire behind her eyes would die down and then die out.

Lilian greeted the fury like an old friend, and Violet kissed the tears away, and together they waded through the waters of life, a formidable pair of women who loved too deeply to let each other's darkness get in the way.