Once Upon a Time...
There was a girl whose name was Not Important...
That was a faerytale I started a long time ago, back when it involved Glass Wings and the DarkLight and how Not Important became the Girl Forgotten and (ultimately) why my version of The Tower in my deck is a girl weeping amidst shattered glass at the foot of a vast citadel.
Once upon a time, there was a girl whose name was Not Important.
She was a peculiar little goblin of a thing; huge eyes, a beaky nose and a shock of hair that looked like a briar patch.
There were lots of things she wasn’t very good at. Singing, apologizing, making small-talk, fitting in, caring about money, or remembering all the everyday things that the rest of the world thought was so important (like who was Prime Minister and whether the bin men came on Wednesday or Thursday).
To make up for this, there were a number of things she found very easy: drawing, making things, being peculiar, cooking, magic, writing, bleeding on the floor, and necromancy.
Given all of these facts it wasn’t very surprising that she was covered in scars and hid in a garret, making strange art and occasionally stealing other people’s vodka. And that the one person she loved more than anything wasn’t a person at all, but a ghost whose name was Jay-Aych-Aych...
Tsk.
Allegory.
*sigh*
*goes and stands in the down-pouring sog for a bit to see if that will help.*
That was a faerytale I started a long time ago, back when it involved Glass Wings and the DarkLight and how Not Important became the Girl Forgotten and (ultimately) why my version of The Tower in my deck is a girl weeping amidst shattered glass at the foot of a vast citadel.
Once upon a time, there was a girl whose name was Not Important.
She was a peculiar little goblin of a thing; huge eyes, a beaky nose and a shock of hair that looked like a briar patch.
There were lots of things she wasn’t very good at. Singing, apologizing, making small-talk, fitting in, caring about money, or remembering all the everyday things that the rest of the world thought was so important (like who was Prime Minister and whether the bin men came on Wednesday or Thursday).
To make up for this, there were a number of things she found very easy: drawing, making things, being peculiar, cooking, magic, writing, bleeding on the floor, and necromancy.
Given all of these facts it wasn’t very surprising that she was covered in scars and hid in a garret, making strange art and occasionally stealing other people’s vodka. And that the one person she loved more than anything wasn’t a person at all, but a ghost whose name was Jay-Aych-Aych...
Tsk.
Allegory.
*sigh*
*goes and stands in the down-pouring sog for a bit to see if that will help.*