Welcome to Gaia! ::

So, this was it. Rosie had finally come home.

Despite having never stepped foot into the room before, Rosalin Fletcher just knew that this was her space, had always been hers. A place where she could be strange, artistic, whatever she wanted to be behind closed doors. But the best part was not the privacy this new environment gave her, but how she didn't have to worry about her magic. This, Rosie thought, was her new beginning, the one she had been asking for, for so very long.

She'd been pretty terrible before coming to Grove, though, and that she wouldn't allow herself to forget. Rosie wasn't above being critical of herself, but it didn't stop her from trying to justify it all. For years, odd things would happen and no one could understand. It was all dismissed, which only Rosie felt was dismissing who she was. From vases shattering spontaneously, to things disappearing and reappearing somewhere else, life had always been eventful. Her parents couldn't relate, and in her father's case, they didn't want to.

Her father had thought she was his flawless, beautiful daughter up until high school when her gift (or curse, as she saw it) began surfacing. Suddenly the magic in the bloodline had been awakened, leaving him believing that all her accomplishments had simply been the results of elaborate tricks or deceit. Magical abilities, he came to believe, were things to be ashamed of. Especially when he couldn't tell the difference between her own skill and something that was beyond her control.

Her mother became the passive one. Any wrong-doing on her father's part was glossed over, or excused with cliche reasons. Rosie wanted to believe that her father really must have been in a perpetual state of either being tired, having a long hard day at work, or under a lot of stress. But eventually it was all too apparent that he was just another ignorant, scared person, afraid of something he didn't even try to understand.

Grove was a place full of people who would listen to her and create a place of safety. Grove was a place of hope, her last chance. Whether she was safe from the real world or herself, she wasn't sure, but it was a new opportunity to find out.

And so began the arduous but absolutely wonderful task of unpacking her life from trunks and suit cases to re-sort it all in this new place. Rosie took out old artwork to hang on the wall, pieces of colored cloth and scarves to throw wherever she pleased. Everything was connected through memory, color, and feeling.

It was hers, and Rosie loved it.