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Misery was already coming up with things she could largess to the young girl. Wisdom, nick knacks, all sorts of things. She would teach the girl all she could. In the child the legacy of the D'Angelo's thrived, little Salvia's flesh was her flesh and Larkspur's and it trickled all the way back to the dark one, Tak. Misery loved the girl. "Would you like to hear a story when we get there?" Misery had told Larkspur many stories. The Khalif's bedtime stories were often brutal and full of dark lessons, but they were the stories of their people. The young girl was healthy and bright, she could deal with a scary story or two.
The young girl moved eagerly and brightly and Misery envied her youth. She could remember being able to move so quickly and lightly - even if Salvia was a touch clumsy - but Meth had stolen that on her final mad night. The girl had burned. In the end the devil god always got what he wanted. Meth had been torn between light and dark - but in the end darkness had won. Her little black and white pelt had been a reflection of that - so dark, with tiny flecks of white. Perhaps she could have been good but the loss of Jude had changed her. Misery didn't like thinking of her and Damian's daughter though, so she banished the thought from her mind.
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