<span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="font-family: baseballscript;">Bluma</span></span><span style="font-size: 85%; line-height: 116%;"> the Wilted Rose</span><br/><br/>Bluma sat her face staring into the blue sky as the wind flowed passed her fluttering her  frilly skirt that hung to her knees. A black simple multi-string top hung to her neck and slender shoulders as the wind started to fade. The black color's she wore always did one of two things stare or ignore she preferred the ignore cause starring caused somethings face to meet her fist. Yup she was a handful her mother had begged her to go to the temple today but Bluma had shrugged and said maybe with a smile before shutting the door. Her high heeled boots clanged against the metal of the children's toy as her legs swayed back and forth she was bored but there was really nothing to do, and Bluma didn't care for friends they seemed  more trouble then they were worth well most. The sound of bike could be heard as she looked out across the playground "How droll" she said to herself, placing her head  in her head leaning her head to one side.