lilichen

She does not wear orange at home anymore.

She sighs and keeps them hidden in her closet, her shirts and scarves and ribbons and things, but keeps them away. She keeps them out of sight and (partially) out of mind. She does not tsk when she sees young people still wearing it, still holding the threads. But, she does not join them anymore, she runs her hands nervously over each other and only watches as things change again in her arms.

But, when she is not home, she wraps herself up in the sun and doesn't take it off.

She goes to Matthew's and wraps herself in her orange scarves and staves off the cold, just like she did in her own streets before. She puts on her orange shirts and wears her orange ribbons and gloves, and wraps herself in the orange blanket someone gave to her when they ran in the streets. She comforts herself with the fact that she has one half of her heart here, that she can be free and bright and young again with Matthew nearby.

Even Alfred is sympathetic, and his words and thoughts are splattered with the colour as the tides change against it. (She even sees a certain white red white flag being held instead.) Others offer hands, offer tides of colour, offer well wishes and worry but keep their mouths closed. She knows that is all they can do.

Still, she wishes to see the tides of the colour against the cold steel in her streets again. She wishes to see her people rise up and fight and call out again. Against something, but mostly for themselves and for everything that made her feel like her own again. Only time will tell what this change will give her, what difference the lack of colour will do. It could be good, it could be her worries and her tears all over again.

Still, she keeps that little swatch of orange hidden in her heart, next to the flag wrapped around her arms.