R. A. T. H

One vol.3

Rose Ausra sat, legs crossed, upon a lime-green couch, mind wandering as she grasped at emotions tethering her to the world. Even as time was less significant to her than most, somewhere deep, she calculated it all the same. It had only been a few weeks since she had been awoken but, even then, she had experienced far more than she imagined. Memories still fresh in her mind.

'Would the thing that became me be considered alive?'

'Your creator asked that I call you Rose, and I think I'll abide by that much.'

'Step aside, doll.'

'—how do you have that? Put it down!'

'I envy you, Rose.'

'. . .I hope you're not only eating orbs. . .'

'Do you think you're alive?'

'. . .soon enough you'll be overwritten. . .and I'll have her back.'

'It's because you're just my type.'

'I see. . .you're a good girl too.'

'I'm in love with you.'

'Shouldn't you two kiss?'

As those thoughts and memories swam through her mind, the homunculus stared placidly at the wind that danced above her outstretched palm. It was a soft calmness unlike the element of lightning. It didn't try to break out of her will. It didn't try to harm her. And it didn't struggle for her complete and utter attention. It was simply there, gentle and soft.

'Like Elsa,' She thought. Though the girl in question was anything but soft, the element's gentleness nonetheless reminded Rose of her, and she couldn't help a smile from her lips. 'It feels like it'd support and be there for me, no matter what.'

Then she stared at white lightning, rumbling and crackling above her left palm, fragmenting into branches and stealing much of her attention to simply keep it at bay. To keep it controlled within her means.

'Wind as gentle as the parts worth living for,' Rose thought, staring at the two elements, 'Lightning as chaotic as the parts worth fighting against.'

Her hands closed, and the elements disappeared, extinguishing as she severed her connection with the world's hum; traces of blue weaving away like dissipating fog. The sound of the core within her unbeating heart, audible to only herself, remained; she felt mana running through her blood and veins, powering her, reminding her that she was not human.

'I wonder if Maria would have enjoyed a normal relationship,' Rose thought as she stood from the couch, her lengthy, black hair draping softly behind her. Thinking of the girl who had wished to die in the end, and the memories she had taken from her. . . 'Probably not.' She doubted someone who had been placed as the wife of another without her own will would look kindly on any tangentially similar relationship.

The sun had begun to break through the window at her right, highlighting the simple living room of the apartment; the couch, the table, the clock, and the television that currently only appeared as a small piece of circular metal upon the wall. Rose turned and stared at the orange glow of Alos's morning, her golden eyes appearing like the brilliance of flames in that light.

The sound of footsteps drew her eyes. Light on the wooden floors of the space. Then there was a yawn, and she knew who it was immediately.

"Good morning, Rose," A voice called out to her.

Rose turned her eyes into the hallway, past the kitchen, and spotted a fit, but short figure, the same height and build as herself, hair desolately black below two curved horns of the same color, and eyes crimson as if they had been painted by blood. That individual wore a relatively loose shirt over her form, reaching her thighs.