Prompt: Natsume/Sumire, Night.
Dedication: For Schadenfreude for just being an amazing team. This House Cup was an amazingly fun experience while playing alongside you guys as a team.
Rose of Ember
by Autumn Win-Dow
(AoGA House Cup. Words: 512)
If Sumire Shouda was a flower, she would be a rose—this was a fact which everyone around her agreed upon.
She was intriguing—her personality was one which displayed flowing confidence at first glance, but it would took a long, hard stare to realise that like everyone else, she had her own things to hide.
She was passionate—despite how she presented herself, her interests mirrored those of a young boy with dreams of being a hero. She had the natural talent of a detective, and her skills of deduction were what she loved to use every time an opportunity arose. Her skills were perfect in letting her figure out other people, while she held a strong barrier around herself.
She was honourable—Sumire was never one to give in to a crashing self-esteem. Unlike many other girls her age, she was confident and proud of what she had, and she never chose to covet what others had. She was completely satisfied with her own life.
And of course, she was beautiful—she knew how to present herself. Her body had no sort of imperfection, her hair was smooth and glossy, and her facial features were delicate and elegant.
People had always noted that sharp thorns produce delicate roses.
But it was common knowledge that she hid something significant—it was unknown about what exactly it was, but if they ever found out, their perspective of the rose would have changed dramatically.
Some questioned whether she was a fake rose, basking in a sea of less significant flowers and appearing to be the real thing. Sumire even questioned herself—if she was real, then what was her purpose in acting in such a manner? Why was she what she had defined herself as?
What was her purpose?
However, she was finally able to figure out her purpose one night, when she stepped onto the balcony and locked eye contact with a boy with eyes as red as the healthiest rose.
Sumire had fallen in love at first sight—she found this boy intriguing to her, and not even her useful deduction skills could help her in easily deciphering what he was thinking.
Perhaps that was why she became genuinely interested in him.
But eventually, she discovered that her many good traits were unable to attract this boy to her—and this came as a genuine shock to her, as she was used to boys grovelling at her feel whenever she flicked a strange of hair over her shoulder or upturned the corner of her thin mouth.
Every night, she strived to perfect what she had—which was already close to perfect on its own—in order to provoke even the slightest interest from the boy who arrived home after dangerous missions, but as time passed, she began to lose all sense of shame.
Sumire, the once honourable rose of the school, had started to wilt—all because of a love and obsession never returned.
"It doesn't matter if the rose is real or fake. Either way, they're both vulnerable to fire."