Bluebell

-im blue da ba dee da ba die

-loves blue

-marries blue

-loves to read

-wants to punch Charm in the face

-Charm always roasts her

-only one who can roast back and not feel bad

-fierce


Imperfection.

Up close, wherever Spire looks, he imagines it better. Neon spines too bright and too cyan against milder bluebell colors. Worst is the eyes: what should have been a mild ice or matching water was red.

His mind turns to improving, perhaps a pair of glasses or lenses, when he finds a solution. The ten hatchlings cry and whine for food. The nocturne snaps and howls from the packing crate.

Her profession will match her eyes, he decides. Nauseating and crude.

---

Bluebell's crate returns silently. When she sees Spire she propels herself forward with a half-bound wing and tries to bite him. Spire flutters backwards and her teeth click in empty air.

"Fighter," he says. With a contuse she falls and stares at the ground with red-rimmed eyes.

---

She is fast, so Spire orders her to attack first, tearing apart and being torn apart by beasts. The dead-eyed spiral and unperturbed fae regard her impassively, and the unfairness burns.