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❛ ᴇᴠᴇʀɢʀᴇᴇɴ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴜɴʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ(s) ꒱


❝ THEN YOU'LL REALLY
BE MY SISTER! ❞

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𝙱 𝚁 𝙾 𝙾 𝙺 𝙻 𝚈 𝙽, 𝙽 𝚈
𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟸

Rose was convinced that her birthday was jinxed. It seemed that every time she turned a year older, something bad happened that prevented her from enjoying her special day. And it also seemed that they were directly proportional to each other: the older she became, the worse the event was.

Her fifth birthday was the first that she had memory of this trend: her mother had washed her party dress the evening before and set it out to dry, only for it to get soaked and frozen by an unexpected overnight snowfall. While this was certainly minor the grand scheme of things, newly-five-year-old Rose was devastated. She'd wanted to look pretty for the one day of the year that was all about her and now she wouldn't get a new dress for months!

On her sixth birthday, her father came down with Pneumonia and they'd had to take care of him instead of celebrating. She'd certainly been more worried about him than her presents, but it was yet another year where things didn't go as planned. For her seventh birthday, the illness came back but for her this time— she'd been too sick to even leave her bed, her small frame shuddering with coughs all day (the pains of having a winter birthday.)

Her eighth birthday was the first that she thought she could pull off: she was well-liked in school, enough to have a small group of girls over for a tea party. Her Mam and Mamó even had some savings from their sewing to host the gathering. But then, disaster struck: one of the more popular girls in the year above her had the same birthday and invited her friends, who went to that party instead. She'd sat alone in her family's tiny apartment in front of a cake made especially for them for the entire day, glancing at the door hopefully each time footsteps sounded outside.

The next year was no better as the misfortunes piled up one after another. Things were made slightly easier when she'd turned ten, which her mother had decided was old enough to have a 'boys-and-girls party.' Steve and Bucky were her only guests then, until Bucky's younger sister, Rebecca, had begged her brother to come along to a "grown-up party." Despite the two-year age difference, the girls became fast friends as they shared the same interests. Rose's birthdays were then spent with the girls pouring (and squealing) over out-of-date fashion magazines while Steve and Bucky would sit at the counter, talking, and occasionally looking over at them with bemusement.

When Rose turned seventeen, however, the years of mostly good birthdays seemed to have caused pent-up bad luck, which created a fallout that she hadn't seen coming.

★ ★★

The red-haired girl buzzed about excitedly, already in her best dress, which had lots of frills and ribbons. Her red hair was coiled in neat, pretty curls that were held back by a ribbon as well, its emerald color matching the dress' decorations. Her face was flushed with happiness as she set everything in place. Although money was tight, she'd spent the week making paper streamers out of old newspapers and cutting snowflakes out of magazines. There was fresh Irish Soda bread in the oven (which would serve as the 'cake' because sugar was too expensive) and the cups and plates were sparkling clean.

A knock sounded at the door around three, which signaled the trio's arrival. She opened the door with a bright smile, which was mirrored in her blue eyes. She greeted them brightly as she hugged each of them in turn: "Steve! Buck!"

"Happy birthday, doll," Bucky replied, tacking on his customary nickname for her. He hugged her back, one arm awkwardly extended so she wouldn't crush her present. Steve gave his own birthday greetings as the boys entered the apartment, Rebecca following close behind.

"Becca!" Rose exclaimed cheerfully, and the younger girl smiled back at her infectious happiness.

As Bucky handed over her present, he added, "hey— I was talking with a friend the other day and they wanted to hang out, so I sort of invited them to your party. Is that okay?"

She nodded. "Of course! The more the merrier, after all. Especially if it means that I get more presents!" she said teasingly.

The redhead set the present down next to another small package (which she guessed was a sweater that her Mam and Mamó had made for her) before she took Rebecca's hand so they could sit together on the threadbare couch. The two girls whispered with their heads bent together, too quietly for the boys to hear, although they occasionally erupted into giggles that caused the pair to look over at them curiously.

"I can't believe Bucky dressed up for my birthday," Rose breathed out, glancing up at the dark-haired boy to admire him. "I think it's a sign!"

Rebecca's eyes widened. "Are you really going to tell him how you feel?"

The red-haired girl had talked for hours about how she thought that Bucky was a total dreamboat. How could she not? He was very handsome, with dark, shiny hair and the prettiest blue eyes that she'd ever seen (even compared to her own.) And it was more than just his outer appearance that she was attracted to: he was nice and brave— especially when he stood up for Steve— and when they went to Coney Island, he never protested in spending his money to try and win her a stuffed animal. The other boys in their class couldn't really be compared (bar Steve, of course, but he had a soulmate and Rose only saw him as a brother-figure.)

"I think so," she admitted, blushing furiously. Although neither boy was paying attention to them, she still ducked her head out of embarrassment.

The younger girl surged forward to wrap the older one in an unexpected but welcome) hug, squealing, "then you'll really be my sister!"

Rose shushed her quickly, glancing up to see if Steve or Bucky had heard— it seemed like they hadn't. A shy smile curled on her lips at the thought of being Bucky's girl. He already called her 'doll' but when she confessed her feelings for him, it would be for real! She'd get to hold his hand and he'd carry her books for her. They'd go out dancing, and to Coney Island, and to the cinema— well, once there was money to do those sorts of things regularly again.

She looked over at him, unable to keep her eyes away from him for long. He met her gaze and smiled fondly at her, causing her face to heat up once more. Bucky stood from his chair and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he made his way over to her. It seemed as if fate had been listening to her conversation with Rebecca as he suggested: "say, Rosie, I think my friend'll be here soon. D'you wanna go downstairs and wait together? When they pass by we can stick our heads out so they'll know which building it is."

The redhead smiled brilliantly at him, standing up without further encouragement. "That sounds great, come on!"

Her excitement caused her to grab his wrist without thinking to propel them towards the door. Before they left the room, she glanced over her shoulder at Rebecca, who grinned and gave her a thumbs-up. Their feet sounded on the stairs as they went down, not caring that her neighbors could hear them (although it was just the afternoon, so it wasn't necessarily rude.) When they paused just inside the door, Rose let go of her best friend and rubbed her hands together as she searched for the right words to say. (But how could she, when Bucky's undivided attention was focused on her, his blue eyes studying her with interest?)

"What's the rush for, doll?" he asked good-naturedly. "I'm sure the people a block over could hear us coming down those stairs!"

She blushed at his teasing, her gaze lowered to focus on the tiny, white buttons of his shirt. "Well," Rose began uncertainly, "I-I wanted to talk to you about. . . about something."

Bucky's lighthearted expression became serious as he bent slightly to try and catch her eyes. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, finally causing her to look up at him. "Alright, Rosie. I'm listening. What's up?"

The shorter girl played with her fingers nervously, her eyes darting away from his again. "I-I'm not really sure how to say this. It's nothing bad," she was quick to reassure him, "or at least I hope it's not. I just. . . don't know how you'll feel. . . about. . ."

She trailed off, struggling to get her words out. Rose could feel that she was taking too long, her previous courage was fading as they stood alone together. Other girls her age would probably be much better asking out a guy they liked, but she didn't have their confidence or experience. But, Bucky wasn't like the other boys in their class, and he didn't pressure her. Instead, he squeezed her shoulders encouragingly. "It's alright. Take your time, doll. We're not in a hurry."

She took a deep breath, reassured by his support. "I. . . Bucky, I—"

For the first time since they'd gotten downstairs, the boy's attention turned away from her as his eyes caught movement outside the window. "Sorry, Rosie, hold that thought."

He released her and went to open the door, calling out to the person on the street: "hey, Mary! We're in here!"

Mary? But. . . but that was a girl's name! Rose's breath caught in her throat as a windswept, snow-dusted young woman entered the building. Her blonde curls stuck out from under her wooly hat and her face was pink from the cold. She smiled gratefully at the reprieve from the flurry outside.

"Thank you, James. I was beginning to fear that I'd never find the place!" She turned to Rose, who was staring at her, slightly open-mouthed. "And you must be James' friend. It's your birthday, isn't it? Happy birthday!"

"Th-thank you," she managed to get out. Bucky's friend was a girl? He'd never mentioned that! (But then again, she'd only assumed that it was another guy.)

Mary smiled at her response before she turned back to the dark-haired boy. "Coming upstairs?"

"I'll be there in a minute, doll," Bucky said. "I just wanted to finish talking with Rose first."

The use of the nickname that he usually called her was like someone had poured ice water over her head. Tears stung at her eyes (she'd been so stupid! Thank goodness she hadn't actually confessed! Of course Bucky's friend was a girl, and she probably wasn't a 'friend' at all!)

The blonde girl nodded and unhesitatingly (so very unlike Rose) leaned forward to press her lips to his cheek. As she went upstairs, he turned back to the redhead. "Sorry, Rosie. I'm all yours."

But the irony of his words didn't escape her: he would never be 'all hers.' He only saw her as another sister and that's all she would ever be to him. Her gaze dropped to the floor. "Never mind, just forget it."

His brows furrowed with concern. "Are you sure? 'Cause it seemed pretty important."

"Yeah, well, something came up," she snapped, although she regretted her short tone instantly as she caught sight of Bucky's surprised expression. Trying not to feel guilty (he was the one who'd duped her, after all!), she pushed past him without another word.

After that, she was only too eager for her party to be over. All she wanted to do was escape Rebecca's pitying eyes, her mother's sudden disapproval of Bucky, and Mary's clinginess with her. . . best friend. Her spirit was crushed, and all she wanted to do was cry.

★ ★★

Then, last year, Japan invaded Pearl Harbor on her birthday. Even though she knew it was crazy, Rose couldn't help but feel partly responsible just in case her bad luck bled into world events. This year, however, was her twenty-first birthday. She was truly an adult now, in the eyes of both the United States and her family. Harry was away, finishing his training at Camp Shanks as he prepared to go overseas. He'd written and said that he had some time off around New Year's before he left the States, so they'd go out together then. Neither Steve nor Bucky were there to celebrate with her, but Rebecca had come over for an afternoon of playing cards, reading magazines and gossiping. 

Even though that's what they did every time they were together, it felt different today without the boys to watch over them. Rose could feel their absence deep within her heart as she thought about how her two dearest friends were far away, even if Steve had yet to leave the country. They were already so different than the last time they'd been together; the boys knew how to wield guns now, they could shoot and fight and survive like they'd never had to before. Even as she giggled with Becca, her laughter seemed hollow and distant, as if her genuine joy had gone with them. And, when the girls parted for the day, their hugs lasted longer than usual as if they both knew that they needed the comfort of one another.

Her bad birthday luck came to a head as darkness fell. Her Mam and Mamó had been quiet and reverent for most of the day, and she knew why: her family did not have many traditions, but the one that they upheld surpassed any that normally occurred on a twenty-first birthday.

From a young age, her Mamó had told her bedtime stories about their ancestors who had lived in Ireland centuries ago. They were from a clan of great power— not just politically, but in the very definition of the word. When children of their family came of age, they went through An Searmanas Cinniúint— The Fate Ceremony— where, if they were lucky, they would be granted a bronntanas, or a Gift. (Those that were unlucky, well. . . people just hoped that wasn't the case.) Although it had become much less ceremonious over the years, the basic tenants were still maintained: should the recipient of the Gift survive the ceremony, they would swear not to reveal their people's secret to anyone, and to protect their sisters and brothers at all costs.

When the last remains of the clan— which, by the 1600s, was just a family with the same last name— split up, the Diviner was divided into fragments and given to each of the children to be passed down from generation to generation. Molly had inherited her Terrigen Crystals from her own grandmother and, as the eldest female in the family, she would conduct the ceremony with Rose.

The pair sat down on the latter's bed in the room that they shared. A beat-up briefcase lay next to the elderly woman. She turned slightly to face the younger girl and took her granddaughter's hands in her own, frail ones. Her blue eyes were pale and a little watery as her old age had taken much of her sight, although her touch was sure and strong.

"My dear girl," she began, her voice soft, "I can hardly believe that you have lived twenty-one years today. It seems that only yesterday, you were a little girl running around in braids and causing trouble." They smiled together at that since Rose had been a reasonably well-behaved child. "As you know, your mother and I have both received our Gifts at this age as well."

"Mam has premonitions," the red-haired woman replied. "And you have sensitive hearing."

Her grandmother nodded. "I may have lost my eyesight but you have never heard me ask 'what' a day in my life— unless I was shocked. As for your mother, she feels that you have nothing to fear from your Ceremony. The Gift is as strong in you as it was for us."

Rose let out a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "That's good."

"Yes," Molly agreed, patting her hand. "Times have changed since I was a girl, and they've changed even more since our ancestors began this tradition. While a Vow is no longer required— nor the pomp and circumstance that our forefathers arranged— it is still imperative that you do not put whatever power that you receive on display. You are not a tacky magician or an egotistical master of the mystic arts. This Gift is meant to aid you in your quest to help others, and that alone should be enough of a reward."

"I understand," the redhead said solemnly— and she did. She was not the type to be a diva, nor did she have a tendency to be flashy. She couldn't imagine using whatever power she received for anything as selfish as her grandmother warned her against.

The older woman studied her for a moment before she nodded, acknowledging her granddaughter's sincerity. She then picked up the worn briefcase and set it on her lap, unclipping the buckles that kept it closed. Inside, cushioned on soft cloth, was a series of long, deep blue gems. Their crystalline outside revealed a changing blue core, the shifting hues adding to their mystique. Rose reached out a hand towards them, drawn as if by a magnet. Molly smiled knowingly at the girl's response.

Rose picked up one of the crystals. It sat innocently in her hand, cool against her palm. To the average person, it would just look like a strangely shaped sapphire; aside from the inner swirling shades, there was nothing especially otherworldly about it. Her grandmother leaned forward slightly. "Break it," she whispered. The girl only hesitated for a second before she did exactly that.

The reaction was almost instant: a gust of wind burst from the broken crystal, so strong that it would've knocked her off her feet, had she been standing. It blew the curls of her red hair away from her face and made her grandmother set her hand down on the bed to steady herself. There was a pause, and then a crumbling sound came from seemingly nowhere. When she looked for the source, Rose saw that black rock was crawling up her arms and legs, quickly encasing her body.

Her breathing shortened as fear took over; all of the times her grandmother had told her stories about their ancestors receiving powers, she'd never mentioned the panic that was currently coursing through her due to the terror of being buried alive. Her wide eyes turned on the elderly woman, who was watching her calmly in return. As the rock crawled up her torso and froze her movements, all she could gasp out was: "oh god, Mamó! Hel—!"

The rock swallowed up the last of her plea and silence reigned in the bedroom— but only for a moment. Only seconds had passed when the cocoon began to break around the girl, falling off piece by piece until she was free enough to burst out of it like a fully formed butterfly. The fragments landed all around her, on the bed, her skirt, the floor, and even lightly coated her grandmother with dust. Rose took in her first deep breath after she'd gone through the changing and stretched out her hands, looking for a sign of the Gift that the Terrigen Crystals had bestowed upon her.

Except. . . she didn't seem to be any different. In fact, she looked and sounded and felt. . . exactly the same.

A/n: look at that— it didn't take me two years to get the next update out! I have officially beat my own record— wooo! (Not that it was that hard, lol.) I plan to make this book my summer project, so hopefully it will (finally) be finished by September (or sooner!) I will also be finishing my Loki book (Etoile) at some point, but that plot is slightly harder since act one takes place before the first Thor movie, so I have to write it myself (grrr. . .) Unfortunately, my mind is more interested in coming up with ideas for writing the Avengers 2012 installment where all of my OCs will meet, but I have to write at least two more books for the joint one to make sense (Etoile being one of them.)

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this update and the next one should be coming out much faster— I'm done with school now so I've got a lot more time on my hands to write :)