Ivory.

Studies indicate that psychopathy isn't about lacking emotions; it's about having feelings that fail to resonate, like water sliding off glass. I know that sounds like something a pretentious documentary narrator might say, but here I am, attempting to make this introduction feel normal while resisting the urge to roll my eyes so hard I might crack my skull.

Anyway hello. I'm meant to "introduce myself," which feels absurd, but let's give it a try before I slip back into my old ways.

People have labeled medangerous, cold, unreachable but those were always their words, never mine. I simply existed in my own way. Throughout my life, I never felt anything for anyone not once. No guilt. No fear. No warmth. Just a quiet, persistent curiosity that pushed its fingers into everything around me. There was always something to analyze, something to deconstruct just to see how it fell apart.

And yes, I was powerful terrifying even but not due to magic or fate or any of that storybook nonsense. My danger came from my understanding of people: how they lied, what they desired, how they cracked under pressure. When you stop pretending to care, it becomes astonishingly easy to maneuver people exactly where you want them.

Then because the universe has the comedic timing of a clumsy toddler I died. Stupidly and inconveniently died.