purple diamond in the rough

When the giant man lifted her as though she weighed nothing, Gypsy released a soft gasp. He really did mean to carry her away. Settled upon the brute’s broad shoulders, the pixie instantly realized just how cold she’d been. The heating pouring off of him seared into her frozen limbs and she grimaced, but settled in for the ride. Once the initial shock of Indigo’s body heat had subsided, Gypsy was more than happy to nestle into his fur, sapping all of the warmth that she could manage.

At first, the snow and plum spattered girl had been curled up in a tight ball between Indigo’s shoulders. Gradually, as the ice left her bones, the tension within her eased. Hind legs slid to either side and she pressed her belly against his spine. Gypsy buried herself in Indigo’s thick mane. With her legs on either side of him, there was little risk of her falling off. In time, the gentle swaying motion of the man walking lulled the tiny fae into a warm, much needed sleep.

--
Terror. It struck like a knife to the chest. Gnashing teeth and the hot searing pain of punishment coursed through Gypsy. The young woman called out, sightless eyes blinking open just as her father caught up to her. She could still feel the pressure of her father’s presence standing before her. Gypsy struggled and tumbled from Indigo’s back. The slender fae struck the ground hard, knocking the wind out of herself. She gasped loudly, struggling for air. Tears filled milky white eyes and the tiny lass instinctually began backing away. She backed right into a thorn bush. Needles entered her flesh, but she refused to move. Rooted to the spot, Gypsy still fought for breath. She fought to rise to the surface of the oceanic nightmare that had wracked her mind.

Her father. It was always her father. Even when he wasn’t there, he was there. He was always watching. Always setting her up for failure. Always ready to mete out punishment in as horrible of a manner as he could imagine. She had the scars beneath her pretty purple fur to prove that.

Still within the thorn bush, Gypsy placed her face against the ground beneath her and cried, small, delicate sobs wracking her equally small frame. How could anyone live like this? Well, when you had no choice… you simply did.