06-20-2017, 08:24 AM
She watches with bored amusement as the things she creates somersaults through the air and terrorizes the creatures in the trees, in the hedges. At first it was satisfying - raking your nails on a chalkboard, intentionally leaving dirty clothes outside the hamper - but it's not enough. It's never enough to satiate the thrum of restless magic that rattles her bones. It comes from a long line of impossible creatures - her mother, a treasured Amazonian. Her twin, a queen. Her father, the devil. All with such lofty expectations and Harmonia? She cares only for ruin.
Ruin ruin ruin.
It takes little to see the boy has the same look in his eyes. Narrowed, red, reckless, wanting to feel the same pulsating sense of emptiness between her fingers. While she didn't miss Pangea she did miss Belgrath and Pollock and all those other insufferable things that paraded around, longing for much the same. A land of misfits that did not want to be left alone. Pollock envisioned something so sinister Beqanna sought to wipe it from existence.
Another strike against the fairies for Harmonia.
"Is your proposition a more productive use for me?" she asked, eyeing him carefully. She looked like nothing, all of 14 hands and with no muscle tone to speak of, but she is not stupid. She's long since dropped her mask of infantile delights and replaced it with the real Harmonia - distant, cold, calculating.
Harmonia
kids sure like the devil these days and i’m the devil with a black dress on