The Fashion Princess

He’s charming in a boyish way, with large, round eyes the color of the ocean and a healthy tan, like he has been sunbathing all day. His long hair is done up and lanced by a silver fork, the rest snaking like a live flame down his back. Excitement sparks in him wherever he looks, and Raven gets the sense he’s seeing everything for the first time.

He’s dressed in an open sea-green suit cut with pale pink, his purple vest secured with several belts and his oversized dress shirt spilling past his waist like a skirt. His boots, a bold navy, ride high on strong legs. Numerous baubles dangle from him, glittering as much as his gold buttons and embroidery do: a corkscrew-shaped bottle opener, a pocket watch, more silverware…

“Whoa, a raven?!” the redhead cries, uncomfortably close as he looks her up and down. “A real, honest-to-goodness raven! Are you really one? Or are you named after one?”

“Er, yes? I am, in fact, a bird…”

“That’s so cool! I’ve seen and met seagulls before, but not a lot of terrestrial birds.” He rattles her about like a child might their favorite toy. Stars shoot through Raven’s head. “You gotta tell me all about what it’s like living inland!”

“I—would—be—happy—to…!!” she squeaks, only managing to get out one word at a time as the redhead excitedly shakes her.

There’s a sigh from behind him, then a stern voice calls out.

“Rielle. Can’t you see you’re confusing her? Don’t scare off our hostess before she’s even had the chance to be introduced to us.”

Another boy.

This one with a mouth that curls in a cat-like manner, thick brows, and warm doe eyes lined in teal, twinkling like stars on the sepia sky of his handsome face. She nearly mistakes the elaborate intertwining scarves woven into his umber mullet for a braid tossed over a shoulder.

His outfit is a mix of casual and ostentatious—a crop top offers a glimpse of his toned stomach, paired with sneakers and baggy pants, a sash of chartreuse, blues, and white secured below the abdomen; his turquoise jacket, stitched with jasmine flowers, boasts sheer sleeves with gold sequins carving out an elaborate pattern. Even more gold dribbles from his neck and waist, and a pair of gaudy chandelier earrings hanging from his lobes.

“Sorry about my friend here,” he says apologetically. His soulful eyes practically pulsate, oozing charisma. “Rielle can be a handful when he gets curious. He means well, though.”

His words seem to ground his peer like an anchor to a boat. The talkative trance, breaking.

“Oh!! Sorry, Raven!” the redhead immediately drops her hands. With a nervous laugh, he scratches the back of his head. “I should introduce myself first, shouldn’t I?

“I’m Rielle, second year at Marinafinne! And this is my senpai, Minajael! He’s from Dunasmina.”

“You stole my intro right from me. What am I going to do with you?” The boy with the pseudobraid shakes his head. His smile is crooked, just lopsided enough to suggest a lack of seriousness. “Mina’s fine.”

“It’s a pleasure.” Raven shakes their hands, inhaling the mingled scents of the sea breeze and blooming jasmine. “Rielle and Mina.”

Their names leave her, and an instant itch forms at the back of her mind. Small, gradual. Like a sense of…

Déjà vu. Raven scrunches her brow. Odd. Why do I feel as though I’ve heard those names somewhere? They look a little familiar too. But that shouldn’t be. I’m certain this is our first encounter.

“Have we… met before?” she asks carefully.

Her question earns a chuckle from Minajael. “What a bold question to pose to men you met five minutes ago. Do you do this often?”

“Ah—no, I didn’t mean it like that,” Raven stutters. “I mean that I might have seen you before. Maybe in Foothill Town? Or in the news? I’ve heard that RSA had no shortage of the elite, similar to our NRC.”

There’s a flicker in Minajael’s eyes, too fast for her to decipher what it is. Discomfort? Annoyance? Beside him, the realization on Rielle is obvious.

“Ooooh, you’ve probably heard of our families! Y’see, we’re—”

“I don’t think it’s wise to be sharing personal details,” Minajael interrupts, passing Rielle a sharp look that speaks louder than words, “for safety concerns.”

“Eeeeeh? I don’t think we should be keeping secrets though. Honesty’s the best policy!” Rielle protests with a pout.

A sigh. “Drop the tell-all about yourself, but leave me out of it.”

Raven volleys between the two. Is it a sore subject for them?

She clears her throat. “It’s alright, I won’t pry any further. Inform me at your own pace if that’s what is for the best.”

The bird makes her way through the other RSA students, listening to each reciting their titles. Tim, Oliver, Winter, Vega, Sylvie… All with luminous teeth and perfectly coiffed hair, like princes that had paraded out of the pages of a fairy tale. Beautiful, gallant, and pure of heart.

Seemingly.

Were this September, perhaps she’d be enamored. Now? Raven feels a bit of her soul shrivel at the thought.

No one is that perfect.

She still remembers a lion roaring in agony, the wail of an injured animal, thrashing wildly in its dying throes. The harsh lashes of sand shredding her eyes, her throat, her skin. Sinking low to the ground, everything burning, threatening to crumble into dust.

“I will never be king.”

She still remembers the dragon breathing emerald flames over his briar-covered kingdom. The shrieks of horror slipping away slipping away into saccharine dreams. And he, the cold ruler of it all, beckoning with a clawed hand, the color of decaying flesh, and a sinister grin.

“I shall show you all to a true happily ever after.”

She still remembers the silver-haired knight wandering the void, his cheeks streaked with tears. He’s broken like glass, and the darkness cradles him as a false comfort. His figure grows further and further away, sinking into a pool of inky despair.

“I was born a sin.”

A fairy tale prince riding in on a white horse to save the day? Inconceivable. Even they have flaws, do wrong, suffer and fail and experience sadness.

“… You’re thinking.” Minajael states it matter-of-factly. Not a question of if she is or not, but what it is that has caused her expression to cloud over. “I’m told it’s a dangerous pastime.”

“Huh, what’s up with Raven?” Rielle inclines his head to one side, then brightens. “Ah! Could it be that you’re nervous about making new friends? It’s okay, I was like that when I first came to the world above too. But like, nervous and excited—so nervouscited!”

"What? No, it’s nothing," she mutters, brushing them aside, "just reminiscing. It's been a very hectic year for us at NRC, especially considering the… recent international incident.”

Minajael’s mouth pulls into a knowing smirk. It’s not mean, unlike the ones Raven is used to seeing plastered on her classmates—but it’s soft, lingering like an unsolved mystery. “Hope we’re not adding work to your plate. I promise we won’t be extra trouble.”

“Yup, we’ll for sure be on our best behavior!” Rielle chirps, his voice carrying like a rallying cry. “As thanks for being our guide. Right, everyone?”

The other RSA students pipe up, chorusing their sympathies. “Poor thing”, “It must be hard getting back on your feet”, and “Let us know if you need any help”.

“Um, thank you?” Raven offers, sounding stilted. “… I think?”

Her stomach clenches on instinct. What’s with this overwhelming aura of positivity they’re giving off? This feels so unnatural and weird. Is it a RSA-exclusive thing? It’s almost as if…