Delya doesn’t consider herself all that pretty. She can be pretty, maybe. Thin, on the verge of malnourishment because of her naturally low weight… she is the daughter of her fathers. Makism and Tarquin had always been slender and beautiful. She got the short end of the stick… pretty, but too thin. Riptide in the gene pool had left her thinner than either father would ever be. She’s a dancer, slender and agile all by nature. Nurture had nothing to do with the way she was built, and at least she had that. Maybe she wouldn’t be all weird. She was too attached to her looks, maybe. Delya felt like it was her only option.
She had the option of being a kid for now. She was a child, and that was what she could cling to. A vain child, but a pretty child. At least Delya could pretend to be anything she wanted out here. She could pretend that she had her daddies… any daddies she wanted. Daddies that weren’t a little out of their minds, a little bitter… at least they were loving. They’d loved their children. That was what comforted her, the idea that they had loved her. Saving graces came in the form of love. Love and play. Play was good too.
There’s a girl. She appears, and Delya turns to look at her. She’s an odd looking thing, but she’s pretty enough too. A wag of the tail from the girl on the rocks, a little fluff of the head—no hello. Just a question. Who the hell taught her manners? It didn’t matter. The girl watched cooly, a stretch as she stood upon her rocky fortress. It’s a swishing tail, a toothy grin. “Practice. Come up, I’ll show you.” Delya wouldn’t mind playing nice, making friends. She couldn’t deal with trying to befriend that weird cousin… she could deal with other friends. Friends that won’t fucking weird. Oops, daddy had said she shouldn’t use those words.delya
hound’s
tarquin x makism x hush
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