Dorothy sees her spinning.
That is her best feature – the ability to see the best and worst in someone with just a glance.
And Dorothy saw her first, spinning along the sand of a beach.
She didn't fall in love or anything – but she was transfixed.
Eyes alert… always looking for Relena to twist and turn with some unknown tune in her unknown head.
Or maybe Princess is dreaming of a Prince.
Maybe Princess is wishing for someone to dance with.
Dorothy toys with the idea.
Her arms, all long and dangerous, around the waist of the Queen of the World.
Would they waltz?
A samba? Or just some version of the two, all awkward and just like the teenagers that they are… Do other children move like this? Think like this?
Dorothy does not know.
And so, she turns away. Dorothy keeps this image to herself in all the days to come.
Relena's song, however, sticks around.
All drums and violins and thunderbolts of blue. Everything a girl might want to hear in order to grow up faster and float away.
Maybe Relena is just a girl.
Just a girl with dreams and longings and flights of fancy.
Dorothy does not know… yet she wants to.
She wants to know why Relena moves her feet like that, why does Relena cry so much, why does Relena come closer and closer?
Why do they hate each other and need each other?
Dorothy finds her mind consumed by Relena. She is not in love or anything.
Just obsessed. Just too curious. Just doing what Dorothy must do.
They side-step in the hallway. They toss accusations at each other.
Relena glares at her and speaks with a venom born of anger, not of peace.
And Dorothy does not know, but she feels it now.
A slow warmth crawling up her legs, caressing her hips and into her ribs.
Not in love… but something like it.
Dorothy pulls her ribbons and watches Relena spin.