The Crow And Her Sparrow

Chapter Two - loathsome Pathetic Imbecile

A large unmissable scratch lingered on the wall. Mother Miranda's ragged breath cut through the still air. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with the sharpest of knifes and it would remain as it was. Her hands clung to the sides of her head. Another failure for her books. She rubbed her forehead as the aggression clawed at her skin. What was she to do? She trembled. Everything was crumbling apart. Like crumbs when you cut into a crispy pastry. Her eye twitched as her throat rumbled.

Mother Miranda's red hot rage only seemed to grow as the seconds turned to minutes. Her throat felt as raw as the open bitter sea. Why her? Why did she have to live while her little girl died in her arms? Why did it all lead to this? Experiment after experiment. Disappointment after disappointment. Failure after failure. The world was cruel and wicked and so was she. In the end of everything she was just as horrid as the world she loathed. The lives she had taken. The children she had ripped from the parents grasps. Watching their faces twist into all sorts of sorrow and betrayal. It haunted her. Not because of regret. Not because of guilt. But the pleasure she felt. The ultimate feeling of revenge. Revenge for what? All for Eva. If she were alive none of this would have happened. It was all too late now. Her gut twisted. Perhaps it was her insides rotting from the years of tears and rage. The world took away her child and in turn the world would pay. But then.. 

There was miss (Y/n) Hart.

The priestess' maid. You didn't much care for the experiments and the truth. In fact, you kept out of her business. At times you even seemed quite content with the lonely life you lived. She often found herself watching your behaviour. She noticed minor things. Such as how you would play with that small delicate ring on your finger when nervous. How you would always take note of her favourite comfort foods and bring them to her when in a furious mood. Perhaps that was yo just doing your job. Mother Miranda often found you tending to her garden or reading in your small room. A quiet life. The room had given you was cold. The window was cracked, easily letting the breeze in. The pale wallpaper was peeling like that of a banana peel. The village priestess often asked herself why she didn't kill you after you attempted to leave. The blonde let out a deep breath as she thought of that day. she remembered the pure horror in your face when you realised that she had been watching you back your things. Then again, you only had ever attempted to leave the once. You had treated her with respect yet you never seemed fully blinded like the rest of the idiots in that worn down village. You fed her crows. She never asked that of you. You often did more then required. Her crows enjoyed your presence. Maybe due to how much you tended to spoil them. 

She had become rather intrigued by you over these last few days. The priestess had concluded that it was your own fault. Your eyes sparkles in the light. Those eyes would drive her as mad as a hatter. perhaps she was pleased and... proud that she had gotten her claws on you before Alcina Dimitrescu. You would most likely be dead if you had entered that castle. Mother Miranda wondered what one would drain the life from your form. Perhaps it would be Alcina. She always did love to sink her teeth into the most rare fruit of them all.

A barbaric growl came from beside her. The priestess raised her head and narrowed her eyes in utter annoyance. She gritted her teeth and clenched her jaw. She had thought the man had died. not become another lycan. The winged woman glared heavily at the beast strapped down to the medical table. She would call for Heisenberg to collect the creature at dawn. "Life is never fair for creatures like us, is it?" she hummed. Her melodic voice laced in all sorts of poison and spite. Her golden talons graced against the lycan's tattered fur coat. The animal before her struggled in the straps. Mother Miranda sneered as the beast tried to bite at her hand. With that, the priestess disappeared in a puff of feathers. Leaving a few stray soft ones behind. The blonde reappeared in front of her house. She reattached her golden crow mask.