The Black Butterfly
Beautiful and graceful, varied and enchanting, small but approachable, butterflies lead you to the sunny side of life. And everyone deserves a little sunshine...
As soon as she was alone again her tatoos peeled from her skin, shaping themselves into dark black shapes, than solidifying into their preffered form: Ink-black butterflies. She could shape her familiars at will, but she liked them like this. Her own wings spread a little as they whispered eerily, incomprehensible words and mutterings. Some sounded like spells, others just vague warnings or prophecies. One even mentioned the torturer. Her sharp ears shifted a little, focusing on the one. The boy had been interesting, she would admit. Maybe he even knew something about whatever she was seeking. Most definately, like her, he wasn't with the titans. Perhaps it would be a good idea to seek him out, but not now. Now was time for rest. Her inky butterflies spiraled around her, and in a slight silver shimmer she was gone.
At home, the skyscraper, Flitt curled up in her mess of blankets. She paid no attention to the noises fromt he door; it was likely the building settling.
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