[A/N] I once again, rise from the dead. I found this really cool discord server for Voltron writing prompts.
It's new and not many people know about it so, it's basically a little writing, roleplaying server for Voltron writers. There's no commitment and you even just join as a reader and read others works!
Sakarrie is beautiful, she's the owner, and I'm like 99% sure she has a account with the same name so go check her out!
Anyway. The prompt was Separation. I wrote 2 and a half pieces. This is the longer, better one. Seeing as this is only 450 words without the A/N, you now know what to expect. I'll post the second on as a different chapter.
Just a warning. I don't know much about Muslims. I am very inexperienced with them. I'm basing them from media - from TV and Tumblr - and Religion class. I am only a Christian kid. This was not meant to offend. Let me know if it does or if I portray Allura and Romelle wrong. I tried to fact check but… I'm horrible at that!
Why didn't she notice it sooner?
The way his gaze lingered over her hijab. His distance on the 11th of September. His eagerness to not meet up with her friends and family, and for her not to meet his.
But she was so... blind in love.
She fiddled with the cheap ring he bought her as he watched him talk with his friends.
At first, it was just a nervous habit she has gained from her late mother.
Now it was because it felt like the ring was burning her skin. As if the ring was taunting her. That it was only bought as appeasement or appearance rather than love.
Everything seems to click into place. Any odd behaviours seem to tie to his racism.
Or maybe she is hysterical like he said.
It didn't matter. She wanted to leave.
She peered around the wall she was hiding behind.
He was still talking to his 'friends'. Right in front of the exit of the restaurant.
She spotted the window at the end of the corridor.
That would have to do.
She hoisted the window up. Smiling as the stiff window bent to her will.
She hitched up her skirt and sat on top of the windowsill.
She landed carefully past the bushes and had to lean over to close the window.
She would have to change the locks on her apartment door. She wondered how fast the locksmith could do it.
She sent an apology to Lotor - despite her agony - and said that she wasn't feeling well and walked home.
Lotor sent a sickening kissy face emoji and the words 'get well soon'.
She grimaced.
So focused on texting that locksmith, she bumped into a - rather attractive - woman.
"Oh I'm so sorry," she said, helping Allura up.
"Oh no, the fault is mine," she said, dusting off her skirt.
"That's a really nice hijab," the woman said, flicking a piece of her long blonde hair behind her.
"Thank you," she smiled. Lotor had never complimented the hijabs she wore. No matter how bright or dull.
Although once, he said that it was too 'flowery", whatever that meant.
"My mother had a similar one. It was her favourite," she smiled fondly as if lost in thought.
"Your mother had good taste," Allura said.
There was a small silence.
"My name is Romelle," she said, shaking her hand.
"Allura. Would you like to grab a cup of coffee sometime?" She asked.
"Well, I'm not busy. Want to go now?" Romelle asked.
"I would love to," Allura smiled.
They held hands as the discussed coffee shops, and Allura wouldn't want to be anywhere else.