____{THIS IS MY..name..}____
Rosalin Caroline Fletcher
____{BUT YOU CAN USE THIS..too..}.
Rose, or Rosie. Rosie Posie's a nickname, too. Few have used it and lived.
____{AM I..older..OR..younger..THAN I LOOK?..}___
December 12, 1990, 19.
____{THIS IS HOW I'M LOOKING..lately..}___
Rosie always has slightly messy hair, but in a classy sort of way. There's always a few strands of that dark blonde hanging in front or flying away in the slightest breeze. Even her clothes may not be perfect in a matching sense, but somehow everything is pulled off. It must be that artist vibe she emits, constantly making sense of things visually.
____{THIS IS HOW I WAS..raised..}____
I was pretty normal for most of my life. Even when the hormones and hell of middle school hit, everything was fine deep down. It wasn't until I hit high school that all the magic started to come out of me, like a champagne bottle uncorked. Things would disappear in front of me, and reappear when I needed them. I would hear people's thoughts as if in regular conversation, and it wasn't until they gave me a freaked out looked that I knew they hadn't said anything at all. It was frightening, and still is, but back then, I took out my fear and frustrations on anything I could.
People learned not to like me, and to just stay away. Even teachers knew enough not to get into a fight with me. I was in the college mindset way before I could actually go, was already an adult with the things I was dealing with. No one could understand. Not even my parents could, and they didn't really want to.
See, my family was pretty sedate until I started acting up. The magic in my blood had been subdued for so many generations that I guess it blossomed in me. My father decided that because I was some freakish, magical child that all my accomplishments must have been achieved through cheating, or done by some other dark work. We began speaking to each other out of civility towards the end of freshman year. Now we just fight, or say nothing at all.
My mother began to become afraid of me, flinching whenever I got mad. She couldn't relate to me anymore, simply because I could do things she couldn't. I figured it might have been a jealousy factor, but no. Mom just didn't know what to do with her child that had inherited something she could only dream of.
One day, I blew up at everyone. I couldn't take it anymore, and demanded a way out. Either I honed this gift or got rid of it. And that's when my parents told me about Grove, about there being another realm, and of the bloodlines mixing. All it took was a few minutes of that before I applied to Grove, knowing in my heart they wouldn't turn me away. No sooner had I sent out my application did I begin packing, only to sit there in a near empty room for weeks until I found out my fate.
Some more waiting, and I was off. Off to Grove, to my destiny maybe, and out to find answers to these strange abilities. I'm not even sure if I want them or not, but regardless, I've changed because of all this. I'm going to keep my mouth shut and listen to the world instead of trying to bite its head off. I'm going to try and be nice to people. Because, really, how many stupid people can there be in a community full of magic and things beyond my wildest dreams?
____{YEAH, THIS IS WHO I..am..AND THIS IS WHAT I CAN..do..}___
I'm a human, first and foremost. Quite apt to making mistakes. I'm an artist, too, who's earned her paint stains and exacto knife scars. That's the one thing that really keeps me under control: art. Color. Music, too, and reading.
The magic abilities are hard to place. For the most part it's sporadic, and I need to figure out how to control these things.
____{I'M JUST A..puppet..}___
DevonyEvony
____{THESE ARE MY..tunes..}___
First Train Home..
