January 19: "She was a redheaded woman"
- Fire Personified -
She was a redheaded woman, in every sense of the phrase. She was roughly the color of buttermilk, except from the universe of freckles leaving constellations over her whole body; the Milky Way across her nose. Her hair was the kind most could only get from a box. She was certainly not a "ginger" with their warm orange locks. She was more of a Gothic, rich red most nowadays would equate to a famous Disney mermaid. Funny how Disney forgot that red hair tended to come with enough static frizz to run an RC car.
Daphne also had a spark within her. Possibly left over charge from her winding hair. Her lips were usually caught slightly curled into the startings of a smirk. Even when she was asleep, her smile never loosened. Her hazel eyes held a twinkle that left people wondering if she had just finished a prank, or was about to pull one Always there was a glint of satisfaction. That light never wavered, even when she was upset. Instead, it intensified into a super nova and the recipient of her glare knew they were undone, or they would soon find out. The most unsettling part about her wrath was that her smile still remained.
The venom came from her biting words and double-edged tongue. Her lighting wit wielded both expertly, and her sandy voice roughed up the wound so the poison could seep in farther. One rarely pissed her off more than once.
The odd bit was she was rarely upset for her own benefit. Spit in her face, rake her across the coals, hit her with a bus, she'd just laugh at how petty, immature, and desperate people could be. The real fear was if you forced her to become Mama Bear. She would protect the cubs that made up her friends, family, and innocent bystanders. Messing with them would mean almost certain death at the claws and fangs of her wit and rage.
"It's Irish Passion," she'd explain, again with the curve in her lips and the mischievous shine in her eyes. The passion went both ways, from powder keg to warm blanket. The reason the switch for Protective Mode was so easily hit. When she opened her heart it spilled completely. She took scissors to it and cut a hole that fit that person perfectly. Even with the years eroding the hole into a new shape, she still remembered the puzzle piece it originally was for, and would defend with her all.
Not everyone could handle Daphne. She was fire personified: red and hot. She was bright and warm; soothing. She was wild and destructive. She was hard to control, yet somehow fragile. She was a beacon and a center for those she cared for. She was an unyielding force for those either not careful with her or around her. Only those smart, fearless, and tough could tame her. Always knowing she could never actually be changed. She'd always be fire.
She was a redheaded woman, in every sense of the phrase.
**A/N: Quick character profile written while I was at work. I don't know why I wanted to bookend this practice with the prompt itself, but it just seemed to fit. I also wasn't sure where to go with this prompt at first. I know a LOT of redheads. This one woman I used to work with popped in mind as I wrote. While I took some creative licensing, this woman was completely my inspiration for Daphne's personality.**