She stood stoic, straight edge and still.

A stern expression a constant on her sharp face.

None of her peers approached her, and the few green bloods who had didn’t get much from her.

A firm countenance and a simple question of “Spar?”

And whether she won or lost she’d shake their hand and move on.

She was rigorous, exceeding at whatever task was given to her. Her superiors aways offering praise and compliments.

Her peers would call her aloof and passionless, a prickly try hard.

Except for one day out of the year.

In mid May the officers put on a formal party. A slight bit of normalcy for the men, a short sweet escape from their war torn territory.

And oh how she would bloom.

A peachy sunrise layered dress and slightly pink cheeks was all she needed to break away from her stern persona. A faint simper passed her lips and a joyous laugh would ring whenever someone asked her to dance.

She’d flow through the room, her layers of dress like petals fluttering after her.

She leave a sweet fragrance of cactus blossoms in her wake and the men would swear they’d marry her when the war was over.

And then the night would end, and so would her blossoming. She’d close back up, packing her daybreak dress away and hiding her glowing smile away behind her stoic guise.

And she’d stand tall and straight once more, impactful, forbearing and placid.

Waiting patiently for next year.