Cassandra makes her way over to the bonfire with a little bit more haste than she probably could have. Her heart was racing from the turmoil of thoughts in her head. She felt embarrassed and weird in all the wrong ways. This isn't what a spring coronation is supposed to feel like. It's her own fault though, right?
She crosses her arms, taking time to just breathe the scent of the smoke, listen to the way the wood crackles. While she's here, she does consider the little papers and wax. What was her heart's desire at this point? Frankly, she already had it. That thought seems to strip away some of the nagging, ugly thoughts of before. She shakes her head at herself then. Urgh. Cassandra, why do you do this to yourself? She bites her bottom lip. A somewhat amusing question occurs to her: Are you really a Winter at a coronation without some kind of sorrow and inner turmoil? She can't remember the last time she had a normal coronation. Well, Autumn wasn't bad, now that she thinks about it.
Her arms relax a bit and she continues standing there at the fire, the lights illuminating her emerald gown and only enhancing the sparkle of her prismatic skin. She runs her fingers through her scarlet hair, setting the locks better in place.