Colours

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Celeste

If he was fire, she was the expected ice. Cold in a way that muted his burning coals, cold in a way that quieted the cracking of logs. She was unapproachable, easily avoided and elusively evasive, she was as precarious as the liquid from which she drew her personality traits.

She had highlights and contours in various shades of blue, but her originality lay in the stark contrast of her paling innocence. Once pure white, her core shone through, but as her heart froze over her white became veined with cerulean hues.

Her blood crystallised until her essence became stone, she was an impenetrable fortress that few would ever know. Cold was insufficient for the temperature she let off, and although protective, her ice walls were not enough for they were weakened and melted by the flames of his grace. When they met steam rose at their contact.

She was beautiful, somewhat delicate and yet unquestionably whole, she hid a depth beneath her surface that ruined all who came close. Her cracks were preserved, the damage postponed in indifference. She was an avalanche embedded with a ticking weapon.

Celeste was a process; she was a work in progress. She was not yet overcome by the muffled blanket of solitude. The original green pigments displayed at her birth, were now veiled by the trauma she endured. Her sage became opaque and began to lean towards turquoise. Her soul reflected a fragility others would never notice. Her silvers became matte, her genuity lost its shine - until Celeste became a glacial form of life.

She pushed all away with the shards of her childhood, forever haunted by the contents of her dreams. She lost faith in humanity, and all that was warm; she became afraid of being cared for, she rejected a home. Her aura turned blue, tinted grey and empty white - as the saturation of her individuality faded along with the blood she continued to wipe up. Her ears became deaf to the sounds of their screams, her eyes turned away when doors slammed for all people leave.

Celeste was once hopeful, she was once more than cold. Celeste had dreams and a future, she had a family and a home. But life is not simple, and reality is cruel, giving Celeste only the worst bargain of every set. She was so broken, so bruised and so wary of life. She was becoming a statue, an entity merely ghosting through life.

I watched her and I feared for her, for she seemed to fade every day, and I knew eventually her light tones would waste away. She became smaller and smaller, shrinking into herself - until Celeste gave up everything and I was powerless to help.

In the wake of her winter, as spring started to break out - I looked to the girl who carried mountains. She had a strength far greater than most would expect, a heart more loving than she let others experience. Celeste was guarded and careful in a way she never should have been, and ultimately she taught me the importance of relationships. From her I learnt no one is an island onto themselves, and sometimes every one could use a hand up. Celeste walked through life with only the company of her shadow, she fell apart in the arms of her own darkness.

Celeste deserved better, she deserved a second chance, and thus I vowed to help all those who asked, even if it meant icing over my heart.

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