♡Faith♡

Faithala Laurette Reylas was odd. She had been odd since her very first moment in this world, when her umbilical cord was wrapped so tightly around her neck, she was violet. Violet. Vhat was almost her name, except her father, a gangly teenager-esque man named Vincent Cyr Reylas (which he hated, so he was more commonly known as just cyr), had objected profusely that his daughter be named after a mere colour.
"This child," He had bellowed, motioning elaborately towards the tiny baby in it's mothers arms, "Will not be so inadequately named. For fucks sake - if my daughter is a colour, she is the epiphany, the fucking colour of extraordinary. She is faith for us all. She is not, dare I say it, bloody 'violet'." And so it stood. As Michela Marquez Mohala (thank you, African American descendants) lay in her hospital bed, with sweaty dark unruly curls and a crisp white gown, her eyes lit up.
"Faithala." She had whispered, voice full of certainty and awe. "Faithala Laurette. I love it. Don't you? Cyr, don't you love it? perfect."
"Is the ala part necessary?" Cyr had asked dubiously, and Michela's hand had slapped his lightly across the head.
"Yes. She can go by Faith, but Faithala is so much prettier, and you are not talking me out of this one.” Cyr had just laughed, and he would never admit it, but he loved that name with all of his heart. So it was done. Eighteen uncannily joyful years later, Faith was still odd.