Of Hair so Gold, and Lips so Red.

   Aero(c)2009


Forward.



How is it that beauty can corrupt a person so? How can it take a small image of yourself and twist it into something far greater than you had originally bargained for? Suppose you have that one reflected image that you see of yourself and you see a gorgeous man or woman before you. As you grow older, you try and try to keep that same look, that same radiant beauty you once had. As years go by, the youthful glow slips from your fingers faster, and you could only powder your way back to your previous looks. You are desperate to keep it, your perfect skin and shining blue eyes.

This was so because beauty was everything in this world. With natural looks comes power, and every human being wanted power. They want the power to control, the power to mold things as they see fit. Human's are truly selfish beings, if this was correct. They can only destroy for what they believe is right. They can only be motivated by what would get them in control. And from this information, I knew I wanted this power of beauty for my child because I thought it was right.

I peered in my vanity mirror sadly at my worn features. Time revealed to me that I was getting older. My face was slightly wrinkled, and my cheekbones not as high. My lips were cracked and eyes sunk from tiredness. My once flowing blonde curls were straight and grey. I could not let this happen to my child. I couldn't. I stood suddenly, slamming my hands down on the dresser. I called my maids to me and asked for my fur coat.

My child will be beautiful, I told myself then as I now stood in a field of snow. The sky's precipitation continued from yesterday to now, and so forth until our God saw fit. My child will be the fairest of them all, and nothing will stop him. I caressed my stomach lovingly as I felt the tiny organism flutter. I closed my eyes and smiled, the cold chilling my bones. In the distance, I heard my maids call out my name; "Miss Namine, please come back!" I couldn't return, not when my end was so near.

So I spoke. I spoke loudly and firmly, asking my God with all my might. I prayed the Heaven's could truly hear me. I wanted my voice to shake the ground and disturb the dead. I wanted my wish to come true. I wanted what I thought was best for my child.

"I want my child, Roxas Strife, with skin as pale as snow, his hair as golden as the sun, and lips as red as blood! I want Roxas to be beautiful!" And so it was done. I never got to see him, my child. However, from the coldness of the last beat of my heart, I knew my wish was granted. My child was gorgeous, just as I had asked, and he would be the powerful man I wanted him to be. Now, I could only watch from the afterlife to see him reap what I have sown.