Post by Jewel on Jul 7, 2017 22:31:27 GMT -5
((Decoii))
Daughter of the Devil.
That was what everyone in the neighborhood called her. Honestly, though, could she blame them? Rarely ever did anyone see Thea around; when they did, they suddenly got a chill and a sense of foreboding. It didn't help that she had eyes that were unnatural for a human to have. What was she?
A demon. That was her species. And she had many titles. The one that Marigold had the pleasure of calling her is "Mom", though.
The neighbors weren't technically ... wrong to call her that. But it still hurt. Treble was well known for his voice. Being celebrity, it was a given. Because of it, people were able to look past the fact that he came from what a lot of brown-nosers would consider a "broken home". Parents were divorced. He had an estranged sister. All of that fun jazz. Marigold can't even get out the front door without a Catholic neighbor crossing herself and worrying her rosary beads.
Nine times out of ten, she would curse every single deity she could think of that could be responsible for her being born of the Queen of Vengeance. This one time, coming home from work, she was glad that her presence was known to clear the room like a foul-smelling fart.
***
"I'm sorry they did that to you."
Marigold scratched behind the black dog's ear, not expecting - and was disappointed when - any kind of response other than a growl. "I bet being paintballed is no fun when you can't protect yourself."
A small smile lit her face at the answering huff it gave, as if sarcastically saying, "No, really?" Then she reached for the shower head, jerking it from the wall before sitting on the edge of the tub. "I'll be as gentle as possible. And we're going to have to use my brother's shampoo. Unless you want to smell like daisies?"
This time, like the first, there was no intelligent answer. Which was really disheartening. The teal-colored gaze of his promised something more than met the eye of this dog. Wolf. (She wasn't sure. It was a bit on the small size.)
She set to work cleaning out the paint from its fur, making sure the water going down the drain was clear before turning it off. All the while, she talked about everything. How her mother was a tough, wretched being. How her brother was better than her in everything they did. How her ex-boyfriend was a total douche. How – sometimes – she wanted to run away from the unfairness of her life.
Finally, she stood, hearing her spine crack. "Ugh. All right, Im going to get a towel. Don't jump out yet."
It had taken fifteen minutes for her to get back, irritation at her unnecessary quest for a clean towel making her brows scrunch together. "I swear, Treble is such a–"
"I can dry myself."
Marigold jumped, free hand going to her throat, fearing her heart was going to jump out of her mouth if she didn't stop it. "Oh, my God!"
"Call me Jashua."
Daughter of the Devil.
That was what everyone in the neighborhood called her. Honestly, though, could she blame them? Rarely ever did anyone see Thea around; when they did, they suddenly got a chill and a sense of foreboding. It didn't help that she had eyes that were unnatural for a human to have. What was she?
A demon. That was her species. And she had many titles. The one that Marigold had the pleasure of calling her is "Mom", though.
The neighbors weren't technically ... wrong to call her that. But it still hurt. Treble was well known for his voice. Being celebrity, it was a given. Because of it, people were able to look past the fact that he came from what a lot of brown-nosers would consider a "broken home". Parents were divorced. He had an estranged sister. All of that fun jazz. Marigold can't even get out the front door without a Catholic neighbor crossing herself and worrying her rosary beads.
Nine times out of ten, she would curse every single deity she could think of that could be responsible for her being born of the Queen of Vengeance. This one time, coming home from work, she was glad that her presence was known to clear the room like a foul-smelling fart.
***
"I'm sorry they did that to you."
Marigold scratched behind the black dog's ear, not expecting - and was disappointed when - any kind of response other than a growl. "I bet being paintballed is no fun when you can't protect yourself."
A small smile lit her face at the answering huff it gave, as if sarcastically saying, "No, really?" Then she reached for the shower head, jerking it from the wall before sitting on the edge of the tub. "I'll be as gentle as possible. And we're going to have to use my brother's shampoo. Unless you want to smell like daisies?"
This time, like the first, there was no intelligent answer. Which was really disheartening. The teal-colored gaze of his promised something more than met the eye of this dog. Wolf. (She wasn't sure. It was a bit on the small size.)
She set to work cleaning out the paint from its fur, making sure the water going down the drain was clear before turning it off. All the while, she talked about everything. How her mother was a tough, wretched being. How her brother was better than her in everything they did. How her ex-boyfriend was a total douche. How – sometimes – she wanted to run away from the unfairness of her life.
Finally, she stood, hearing her spine crack. "Ugh. All right, Im going to get a towel. Don't jump out yet."
It had taken fifteen minutes for her to get back, irritation at her unnecessary quest for a clean towel making her brows scrunch together. "I swear, Treble is such a–"
"I can dry myself."
Marigold jumped, free hand going to her throat, fearing her heart was going to jump out of her mouth if she didn't stop it. "Oh, my God!"
"Call me Jashua."