Author's Note: Another drabble, only because I want to have the sixtieth story in this category. And, the plot bunnies are holding me hostage.
Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.
-----
I can't look at anything purple anymore.
It's hard, when your best friend dies. It's harder when the last time you saw her beautiful violet eyes, they were turning white and unearthly, and the last time you saw her alive it was under a river of icy water.
Amethysts are out. I even gave my gem-studded bracelet to Ann, so our campaign to pass her off as a Russian princess over Christmas looked more authentic.
Load of good that did, Simon's mother had to meddle. Oh, well. I don't have to look at that particular mockery of my old favorite color anymore.
My mother sent me a beautiful silk dress for my birthday, all purple silk and white lace on the neckline and hem. The latest from Paris, of course.
I could hardly stand to touch it. Gemma's favorite color is purple, so I had it altered and gave it to her.
Even though purple's not really her color. She looks better in green. Actually, no one ever looks good in purple. No one except Pip. I remember her sixteenth birthday party. Mr. Cross let us drink champagne, and I stayed over.
She wore violets in her ebony hair, and a purple dress that exactly matched her eyes. My lovely Pippa, my sister.
The first time we fought her, she was wearing a crown of violets. I suppose it's hard to find them in the Winterlands, but she sneaks back into the garden from time to time. I know she was remembering her party from the betrayal in her disgusting eyes when she tried to kill me.
Gemma saved me, of course. She used some sort of incantation that Miss McCleethy taught her. Someday, I'll be able to save myself. This owing my life to her is getting rather tiresome.
Still, at least it's Gemma I owe. It could be worse, I could owe Cecily or Elizabeth.
Gemma, and Ann. They're my sisters now.
But purple doesn't suit them. It will never suit anyone again.
Fin