The black of her pelt shined as she stepped into the newly dusted white field, her glowing star a small flash of glitter above the sheet of white beneath her black hooves. She stood scanning this place- not really sure what she thought of being back, but knew she wasn't all to pleased to be here. This place that was filled with monsters who killed others because they were not blessed with special traits, (and shunned those who didn't have enough of a trait) and the gods that didn't seem to care to protect those who were simply born with less fortune than others. She thought back to Oswyn, her mother, always so spiteful to her and that damned trait obsessed Queen, Elite, who (ultimately) made her that way. Her mother was so forgiving, no fawning, with Khaos, and his stupid metal body- he didn't do anything for it- so why does it even matter? Her mother must have been blind to the fact she was aware of the favoritism-- or just didn't care. She had left as soon as she could- the Valley was not the place for her and this damned Bequanna could screw itself too.
Now, however, as she stood there, slender arabian lines showing more than her mutt ones, she was not as angry, no the anger was faded, but in its place left a hardened shell.Many said she was mean, others saw her as darkly humorous. Her experiences of constantly be handed the crap end of the stick had made her bitterly sarcastic, and toughened. She was not one to tiptoe around something, and would likely bite your head off if you misstepped. She saw the others in the field falling in love with the grand idea of a family, a support system, a...whatever, and she wanted to laugh allowed. She shook her finer featured head at the stupidity of it- they were blind to the hood being pulled over their eyes. She continued to look around, knowing there would be some sweet-ol- beasty that would come over thinking she was shaking her head out of nerves or self pity, and try to rescue the pretty little thing that she was. She hoped it would happen so she could chase away those silly little things. She didn't need-or want- some white night. She was a looker- and many thought she would be a sweet princess because of it. 'Cause how could a slender framed, fine-featured, fit fae with a glowing star of a tiara not be a princess? She thought it was all a great laugh the universe was having at her expense. She was curious who would come, who would want her...and if they could handle her.
She wasn't really sure if she would go with anyone, but this place was full of monsters... there had to be one that might make her intrigued. She knew a herd could turn on you in an instant, but screw it; she'd bring hell to any who tried to mess with her. So why not just let the game play out.
{ Kataclysm }
Me and God? We don't get along well.