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[notimmaculate]

*is a nine-year-old little girl now, all straight, platinum-ish hair and neat, pretty dress. The picture of innocence, except for the knife she's playing with*

*looks up* So, who else is my kid? I've got six kids when I'm older, and I've only met three of them, and a little boy who's going to be my husband.

Comments

[the_white_sheep]

*...oh, lovely*

Six kids, huh? That's quite a brood.

[notimmaculate]

It's a lot to have with a boy I don't even like. *mild pout before remembering her purpose* I've met five so far, and they're okay except for the stupid one who says he's my favourite. Who're you?

[the_white_sheep]

I don't think he likes you very much either, so you've got one thing in common, at least. *...and let's play the Let's Try To Avoid The Truth As Long As Possible game, even though this isn't smart with your mum, despite the fact that she's nine* I'm no one of consequence. He is rather stupid, isn't he?

[notimmaculate]

*will now ignore everything else* I asked a question, and I want a real answer. What's your name?

[the_white_sheep]

*without missing a beat* What my parents decided to call me upon my birth, and what they have subsequently used when wishing to address me for the next thirty-three years.

[notimmaculate]

I didn't ask for a definition. *frowns, and continues in a forcefully patient tone* Why don't you want me to know your name?

[the_white_sheep]

You asked what it was. I told you. *grins ruefully* If I told you, you'd have to kill me.

[notimmaculate]

*puzzling things out, then* Well, you know the boy who's my husband, and you know that stupid son. You're ... *this is Mary performing great feats of recall* ... Lethe! That's who you must be. They told us about you. You're not evil enough. *questioning look, as isn't sure, but...*

[the_white_sheep]

That'll be me, yes. Well, it was lovely seeing you again, I should be going.

[notimmaculate]

*grabs his wrist, digging her nails in a bit* I'm not going to kill you. We haven't even talked yet.

[the_white_sheep]

*doesn't outright wince, though the observant may notice the barest of flinches, and does stop* I doubt you'd be very interested in talking to me. You don't seem to have changed much.