Willowe's Rainbow Writer's Challenge

[WilloweWolf]

Okay, I've never done any challenges before, but here goes.
Go here to participate!
And no, I won't be doing any fancy coding or anything. I suck at coding.

Table of Contens:
Red
Orange
Green
Blue
Purple
Pink

[WilloweWolf]

ƦЄƊ

Sunset-red rose-symbolic

As the sun set, casting a red light over everything, a rose in full bloom stood, silhouetted by the sinking sun. Shelia gazed at it, waiting. For what she didn't know. She just knew that something would happen. Behind her, the two maids were busy preparing her chamber for the night. She ignored them, staring intently at the red rose, waiting. Waiting. Waiting. "My lady." Esmeralda, one of the two young maids, spoke timidly to her princess. "My lady."
"Yes, Esmeralda? What is it?" Shelia turned halfway to look at the young woman, not much older than she.
"Is there anything you need?"
Shelia swept her gaze over the room. The bed was made, her dress for tomorrow was laid out on an oaken chair in the corner, a silver tray with one silver goblet and a matching pitcher of water sat on the nightstand in case she got thirsty in the night, which she frequently did these days. The shutters were open, she had said she would close them herself. "No, Esmeralda. You and Anya may go. Get some rest." The maid curtsied and left with her companion, and Shelia turned back to the window. The sun had almost sunk below the horizon, Shelia estimated about three more minutes before it was gone completely. The rose remained how it was: still and picturesque, a symbol, Shelia was sure, for something. And, as the red light failed, a single deep red petal fell. At that very moment, not far from Shelia's chambers, someone died.

Kinda short, but my brain is going kerplunk right now.

[WilloweWolf]

Oяαиge

Fire-Asgard-bittersweet

The fire crackled in the hearth, flames dancing and leaping. Kenna sat on the sofa, fiery eyes fixed on the dancing flames. She worked her hand, like she was crushing the air clutched in it. The flames formed themselves into shapes: the Valkyries presiding over a battle, a feast in Valhalla, Asgard as seen from the Bifrost, the Norns (Norse goddesses of Fate), and a tree representing the four seasons. Then, as Kenna stopped manipulating the fire, it returned to its natural state, leaping about in the grate in its wild, mysterious, entrancing dance. It bathed the room in a harsh, flickering glow, flooding it with warmth not normally found in Manhattan in the winter. Kenna sighed, fiddling with a lock of her fiery orange hair, glowing eyes reflecting the leaping, twisting, slightly mabracae dance of the fire. The phone rang. “Oh, what is it now, Fury?” Kenna grumbled as she saw the number. She picked it up. “What?”
“We need you to come in. I’ll have Agent Romanoff fill you in once you get here.” Fury hung up.
“Okay, then. Thanks for the explanation.” Kenna said sarcastically as she set the phone down on the coffee table.