Humanity is ugly. She’s watched this truth, seen it bloom, seen it find its splendour in the years, how in every opportunity given, they’ve found an opportunity squandered, in which they had the chance to show that they could peacefully coexist. That there was, indeed, the K I N D N E S S that might prove their saving grace when faced off against a superior species, an evolution, of sorts, of their own DNA. But it was their fear that washed any goodness that could be found, away, how fear seemed to rule over all other things and that where they would have happily, or had happily, taken your hand before in help, they slapped it away now, with cruel words curling about the end of their tongue, ironic.
They called them monsters, but given their attitude, given what Emma could do to them if her mood saw fit, who was the real horror show? When they faced forwards with pitchforks and burning effigies, how all of them were branded as if they lacked humanity within them, without any chance, any opportunity, it hit a point within her life where all the blonde, unnatural in all ways as she was, could think – why not sink to that level, fight, as dirty as they fight? The Hellfire Club allowed her so much F R E E D O M, as did Sebastian, though, she knew there were limits to what he would allow for his little dove to fly, despite how she could, too, crush him.
This one is strange – he camps out, watching, she can tell behind those glasses, meant to shield the world from him, when, really they all ought to be running. “This is unusual…” the velvet curls of her voice, a sigh on her lips. “I can only assume you have bad news for me. Otherwise, wise else would you step into this pit of vipers? Or shall I peel you apart to find the answer, if you dare think to lie to me?” there’s humour, that softer till of laughter. “Scott. I’m being rude. Would you like a drink?”
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