“Blue?  You put blue in your hair?” Raven’s sister asked her when she walked in.  “Why would you ruin your beautiful black hair with blue, Raven?”

Raven didn’t answer her sister, who was her twin in birth but opposite in nature.  Raven had always been on the darker side of the personality spectrum, while Jesi had always been the perky, outgoing one.  Not to say that Raven was shy, for she was as outgoing as anyone, but rather she preferred the stillness of solitude.  All the company she ever needed was her music and art.  She felt so like those who needed human companionship were hopeless.  She’d never had (nor wanted) anyone to go to, and was quite content with it.

Raven went up to her room, ignoring her sister’s nagging about her hair.  She tossed her pack, full of art supplies fresh from the art shop near her home, on her navy clad bed, and went to view herself in her full length mirror on the opposite side of the room.  The golden frame reflected the evening’s fading rays as she stared unblinkingly at her reflection.  Her long, exotically straight hair reflected her name: black as a raven’s wings.  It startled most people because the rest of her family was blonde.  The eyes that stared back at her were the pale gray color of ash, giving her a particularly haunting look that she had always reveled in.  Now with the blue streaks that she had put in, she looked like something from a movie.  Her face was pale as porcelain, and never got any darker.  Even when she was a child and played what outdoor sports her parents had forced on her, she didn’t tan at all.  Another feature she was proud of.

After confirming that she was content with her new look, Raven set about putting her new things where they should be.  Her room was never a mess, mostly for the fact that she didn’t spend much time at home.  She preferred to spend it in the shade of the woods behind her home or in the coffee house down the street.  Both were indisputably a good escape from her annoyingly cheerful and bright sister, as well as her parents, though they hardly seemed to see her anymore.

Upon finishing her unpacking, she tossed her pack to the side of her desk and sat heavily on her daybed.  She retrieved a notebook from beneath the lighter blue ruffle of the bed and tried to slip into the fantasy she had built herself in her creative nature, but was interrupted when a light knock on her door came to her.

Reluctantly, she stood to open the door.  It was times like this when she wished she had a peephole in her cherry door so she could make sure it wasn’t Jesi or one of her underlings.  She opened the door, preparing to slam it again if it was in fact one of them.  It wasn’t.  Instead of staring into endless emerald, she found herself looking into restless russet.  Her father.

“Could you go down to the store and get some milk and bread?” he asked her.  It was the first thing he had said to her in a week.

“Can’t Jesi do it?” she questioned, putting her shoes back on, knowing the answer before she heard it.

“No, she has some friends over,” he said, avoiding looking at the daughter he seemed to fear.

Raven said no more as she laced up her blue and black converses.  She put her keys in the pocket of the black trench coat she hadn’t yet removed.  Before leaving, she put on her favorite black hat even though the overcast day didn’t demand it.  When she turned back to the door of her room, she was unsurprised to see her father had gone away already.  The living room was abuzz with the all-too-familiar, non-stop superficial chatter as she passed the archway that gave way to it.  Her paced quickened as she felt the eyes of the East Relin cheerleading squad pass over her in their ever-judging way.

"Oh look, it’s the rebel child,” one of them teased.  Raven just ignored her and kept walking.  It was rare that she gave them the satisfaction of a response anymore.  She didn’t need their approval as long as she was happy with herself.  And she usually was.

She climbed into her black jeep and turned the key, the engine roaring to life.  Her radio started blaring the dark music she so adored.  She reversed out of the short, paved drive onto the street, which was deserted save for her car and a few pieces of trash.  When she was well away from her house, which was less like a home than anything she’d ever known, she turned her music up, loud enough to be heard on the next street.  She took her eyes off of the road for half a second to change the song, and as she did, she heard a thump and looked up, slamming on the brakes.  The feathers that were in the air told her that she had hit a rather large bird.

She climbed out of her jeep hurriedly to check if there was any damage to it, and to make sure the bird was dead.  No use letting it suffer.  When she came around her car, however, eyes found what was definitely not a bird.  Off the edge of the road laid a beautiful being.  His blond hair was almost white, and his face was pleasantly tanned.  His attire consisted of what looked like a golden medieval robe, white pants tucked into black boots, and a gold silk shirt.  He looked like royalty, or like he’d just come from a costume party.

She ran over to him, for he looked like he was hurt.  A thin line of blood coming from his temple and a fresh bruise on his forearm betrayed his condition as she knelt down next to him.

“Are you hurt?” she asked quietly, her voice more gentle than she would have thought possible of herself.  She received no response, and panicked.  What little attention she had paid in health class was giving her no idea as to what she should do.  She laid her head on his chest, listening for some sign that he was alive.  She heard his heartbeat and his breathing, both of which seemed normal.  She didn’t stop to think about if he had any broken bones before she sat him up.  His hair fell in front of his face as she did so, concealing his opening eyes from her.

He felt her grasp his arm, and recoiled.  His gaze met hers as she fell back with a startled shout at his sudden movement.  His eyes were black as coal, and she would have sworn that they were void of any warmth, looking pure evil.  In the same moment, however, she saw that they were caring eyes of a boy her age, and she halfheartedly wondered what had brought the sudden judgment to mind.

The two sat, ash trapped in onyx, neither venturing a first move until the feathers put themselves back into Raven’s mind.  She blinked as she suddenly looked around.

The boy raised a questioning eyebrow as he watched the girl turning her head from side to side, then whirling around.  The late autumn leaves crunched under her shoes as she stood and went to the side of her car.

“It must’ve flown away,” she muttered only slightly louder than silence as she picked up a feather.  It was decidedly huge compared to any feather she had ever before seen, being longer than her forearm.  She then turned back to the boy, who was sitting there looking innocently up at her.  An unwelcome blush flooded her cheeks, irritating her.

“Are you hurt?” she asked again, purposely sounding more firm than she had the first time.

The prince-like youth sat for a moment, seeming to weigh the effects his answer would have on her.  He regarded her for another moment, tilting his head to one side.

“No,” he said finally.  His voice wasn’t like one of someone who had just been mugged, for that was what Raven assumed had happened.  Rather, it held a strength that seemed to go deeper than Raven could imagine.