Vachon Imagined

As gentleness pressed against her short, almost unmistakable frame, it became a mockery of the spankings held at bay, the expectation that she be the perfect princess, a distilled peach. She couldn’t understand why she had to be tamed instead of understood, but alas, puzzles make no sense to the untrained, nor do lies benefit a willing audience.

She grew gentle the way a flame bends to authority, yet inside her burned a strength that saw her gentleness as a guide, not a forebearer of death. Coupled with her insatiable grace for knowledge and her inquisitive ascendence, she taught grace to arrive fully handed—ready to remove the heat, ready to tame the fire that ignited within her the moment she stopped listening to others.

Every time they gave her a fire, she cooled it with her memory of triumph, with the solid gaze of her attention, letting her past victories temper the flame, teaching her that even gentleness could wield power.