There was beauty in her, people would say, talking in hushed voices, sneaking glances from the corner of their eyes at the girl with bright orange hair and obsidian eyes. If she spent time in the sun and put on enough weight to no longer be considered a skeleton, she could have the world.

It always made her laugh.

No matter how long she spent in the sun, her skin never darkened. No matter how much she ate, she remained the same. 

A pale shadow lurking where she couldn’t be seen, just out of the corner of your eye, forever half listening to the words of the dead.

Once, when she was 14, her hair had been compared to fire and her eyes to coal. 

It made sense. Her hair was the only bright thing about her, with her dark eyes and dark clothes and twisted nature, and her eyes were cold, like coals were unless they were burned.

Perhaps, just like coal, her eyes would one day be turned to ash and close forever, killing the fire.

I dont really have enough followers to have a tag list so I’ll just tag the people who showed an interest in the other part: @writersloth @strawberryspaceship @rmorada @rosella1356