AN: Welcome to my newest favorite-ist fandom Rise of the Guardians! Enjoy My multitude of Random acts and ships and teenage angst, hopefully not too much because that is annoying. Have fun, enjoy and remember: I do not own any of the RotG characters.


"Ti, I'm not all that sure about this." I sit in front of her vanity, nervously twitchin' in the leather desk chair she had there for me. I love playin' dress-up with her. It's my turn to be the doll. I don't really mind but the costumes she gets me, who knows where she gets 'em from. I usually just pick her dress-up clothes from her big ol' closet of stuff and do her up all amazing an' cute but she… Hoo. She has bought me a new costume almost every time we play. She knows my measurements by heart and didn't even need to take 'em thanks to her inherited fashion magic.

"It'll be fine. You're just over exaggerating." She backs away, smilin' at her work. She jumps up and down clappin' like a seal, her multi-colorful hair bouncin' in all directions. "Oh, you're so cute. Like a little china doll." She spins me to the mirror and, boy, am I get an eye-full.

My hair is curled into drills on each side of my face. My cheeks are rosy, like I am blushing about some sort of naughty secret. My eyelashes look so much longer with the mascara and my eyes in general look more appealing with the dark shadow and liner. My lips have nothing applied thanks to my natural color and fullness, plus she knew I would boil my lips off if she did. My makeup is cute and well-done but not too crazy. And the dress- THE DRESS. She slipped me into a lolita-type dress. The empire waist cradles my breasts, the sash accentuates my waist, and there are frills and lace all over the pastel lavender garment from the swoop neck line to the tulle layered hem. Okay, that's an over statement. There is one layer of white tulle over the skirt of the dress and some lace linin' the bottom hem. She also has me in white knee-high stockin's and violet Mary-Jane's.

"Oh my- Dear God. I look like I could be sold at a toy collector's convention." I poke my cheek to make sure I'm real and that I'm the me and that I'm touchin'.

"I love your accent. Talk more." She waves her little hand at me.

"A texan accent ain't all that weird, y'know?" I roll my eyes. Her amethyst orbs glimmer in the light of her lanterns. "Fine. What do ya want me to talk about?"

"Tell me about your past? You know I love hearing people's stories by now, right?" She widens her eyes and tilts her head like a puppy waitin' for a treat. Can anyone say "no" to her?

"I guess. Well, you obviously really wanna get me emotional. I was born in Texas into a lovin' family. They cared for me and raised me. At the age of about four, my mother and father were attacked by a gang called the Nightmares on their way home from the grocery store. They left during one of my naps and when I had woken and not seen 'em there, I ran out to look. When I found this," I twist the withered locket and key that hung from my neck, "I knew something had happened. I went to the police an' they said that they couldn't do nothin' without at least a day of them missin' and sent me to the orphanage. That's where I lived until you guys sent a scholarship program to my school and I was able to come here."

I look back up at Thiana. Had I been starin' at my fingers dancing an' twistin' the whole time? She looks like she's almost in tears. Was there some sensitive territory I stepped on? I open my mouth to say somethin' but get cut off by Ti.

"I'm sorry!" She blubbers, throwing herself at me.

"Oh, God!" I wail. We fall to the floor with a thud. She has her arms on both sides of my head as she straddles me. "If I only I had known, my family would have adopted you and- and-"

"Clam down, ya crazy fish." I swat her extremities away, propel my legs backwards to sit up more comfortably and take hold of her slender shoulders. "I'm fine an' if it wasn't for everythin' that happened to me, I wouldn't be close to who I am now. 'Kay?" I stare into both her eyes, my pupils probably dartin' back and forth like a loon.

She nods with tears still in her eyes. I give her a firm nod and a smile.

I fall back onto her paint splatter carpet in a fit of laughter. As I sigh in relief, I stare at her living room ceilin'. It is a clean white with lanterns hanging around randomly. The walls are sea-foam green. The furniture vary in color and style from royal purple Victorian to modern yellow. I start to do carpet angels.

Tomorrow is my first day at the private institution named Seasons Academy. I don't know what's in store for me, but then again, when have I had any sort of shit-warning in my life?


A/N: Should I continue to write in her Texan accent? Am I doing it right? Is it really bad? Enjoy, Read, Review, and Critque (kindly, if possible).