In all her years as a demi-goddess, Coral Freyn could admit that it was safe to say that she could look the other way to almost anything. It was called practice. In fact, it was safer to say that she could look the other way and not have the potential to give a damn.
But the human way is not like that. Sure, she spent some days as one would call a "ghost" but eventually that would be forgotten, and just her existence would continue. And the human heart is not like that. The heart is so full of compassionate loathing that is controlling and controlled.
In life, Coral never was able to master said emotions. And after years of blissful nothingness the first thing she felt was anger that such a promising world could be in such a state of dirtiness.
"Disgusting isn't it?" Agra asked. He was like her, a demi-god, but of fire. You could see it in everything he did, from the lithe way he walked, to the blithe way that all heroes from storybooks come and go: reckless, troublesome, easy to make laugh, and oh so protective of the ones he holds dear. She smiled. That's what Agra reminded her of. His hair was tricolored of red, orange and blonde. His eyes were a shocking shade of blue; Coral thought it was the prettiest shade ever, like an electric blue.
The three of them: Coral, Sora, and Agra were there to help fulfill the promise made to those people that got trapped in Fate's net…and suffered terrible losses. Being some of the many that had to deal, it also made sense that the three of them also help clean up the mess that was left behind.
Sometimes it seemed that Fate and Destiny do care.
Coral turned, long snowy white locks trailing behind her and resting upon her shoulders comfortably. She smiled sadly.
"Hate ruins so much…"
From behind her, Agra nodded, staring at her hair before proceeding to run it through his fingers. Coral felt a chill run up her spine and arms; his touch was so hot it felt cold. Coral's smile turned from sad to amused.
Sensing this, Agra chuckled. "What?"
"Did Sora tell you I wouldn't mind people playing with my hair, or something?"
"No…" the other sounded confused.
"Then you men have hair fetishes?"
Agra smirked, "Only with yours."
"What's up with that?" Coral laughed. She didn't move away though, it was a comforting feeling, people playing with her hair.
"You're not going to singe it are you?"
"Seriously, don't mess with a woman and her hair."
"You don't think I know that?"
"Don't burn it low either. It's disgusting."
"You must think I'm really stupid, don't you?"
"No," Coral sighed, still smiling, "not really stupid."
Inspiration from a line from the Broadway musical "Wicked."
by the way, these stories are short because most of them are for my Creative Writing class. In a college i don't know if they mind the length, but in my high school, one page is more than enough.