aguu: A boy with a golden, cold-looking yellow cat-eye, orange straightjacket hood on. (Cold)
[personal profile] aguu
Of course, no one really means to be mean…but in a school where naughty little girls are (rumor has it) to be tossed to newborn wolves, no one can ever be really sure about what happens around playgrounds anymore.

And, as always, teachers are oblivious as to what happens to those pretty little girls and those charming little boys after the school bell signals them to transform: recess. Teachers aren’t to blame for this, anyway. They’re simply doing what is expected of them, and when the bell rings, it is time for recess, and that is that.


Elizabeth Deullie steps into Rosenrot Preparatory School for the first time (with her parents, of course), a little girl wearing white shoes. Instead of the school uniform, her dress is white. She ignores the stares and the cries and the whispers, tries to ignore the small tugs at her star-pinned, rainbow-colored hair.
Why, she wonders, why do they all stare?

Elizabeth’s father holds her hand and says “The other children do not understand, and of course they don’t, none of them are unicorns.” Aside from her hair, her clothes and her dress, the children’s stares grows ever colder at the sight of the brass-colored horn poking out of Elizabeth Dullie’s forehead.

“They smell like the dead. Like Uncle Noah’s children.” Elizabeth’s father looks at her mother, a pale woman. He knows why her hair is that color, from all the soaking and drying in blood and grime. Silently she looks at her husband and smiles, and he trembles, just a little. It brings him to a time where he is unaware of his great misfortune–of being chosen to marry the last unicorn.

“You have chosen me for that reason?”

“Yes. You don’t smell like the dead. You are pure of heart.”


He goes to his father and mother, but they do not see the paleness of the skin or the rainbow-colored hair–they see it as red, not split into seven colors dripping everywhere. He sighs, and the parents bring their child to the principal’s office.

Everything goes as planned. Rare are the moments that Mr. Deuille’s plans are wrong. His wife is charming and pleasant, and his child is smiling and intelligent.

After they leave the principal’s office, Mr. Deuille stoops down and embraces his child. “Please don’t lose your temper, my love.”

Elizabeth’s plastic smile drops and she says in a soft voice, “I’ll try.”

“What does your father smell like, Elizabeth?” Her mother kneels down as well and brushes an eyelash from her daughter’s cheek.

“He smells like marshmallows.”

Slowly the wind starts to blow–spring starts to appear.

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