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12-30-2011   #3 (permalink)
Deadpool approves!
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What had brought her here? Was it on a whim? Perhaps, but her conscious mind failed to produce the same feeling that was welling up within her chest. Whether it was by instinct, by some wonderful coincidence, or by a hidden decree of fate, she did not know. But wherever she went, she seemed to be there for a reason...

The apparition, staunch in a cream white over-cloak, gripped her feet to the therapeutic sands underneath, heaved in a ghastly breath, and continued into the town before her, her yellow orbs peering through the thin slits of her weathered bronze mask, shaped in the regal form of the Egyptian vulture.

Her steps were slow, but with a confidence in herself as she went through town, being led on by an invisible guide to what destination awaited her. Her staff jingled with six loose rings hanging from decorative holes in its design, as if the holes were dots that laid out what it could of a blueprint for a perfect circle. She eyed her surroundings warily, taking in the scenery of the bustling, clockwork life of the town.

Her presence in the town was unsettling to some in the know of the rumors about her: Some feared what lay under those two layers of clothing: perhaps she had the worst, unimaginable case of leprosy. Perhaps she was so misshapen that she dared not show her grotesque form. The latter, however, was only partly true. Others state that she's here to collect her due of souls from this town to guide into the next life or oblivion, if such a thing exists. Whatever the case, the people in town tried secretly to defrag and understand her current state of being, but no one could ever be sure...

The gold trim of her gear gleamed feverishly in the sunlight as she made her way to the market place. Her butterfly necklace dangled freely below her chest, moving in the likeness of it creeping below her bosom.

That same bosom suddenly felt a tug from within, in the likeness of the event just outside of town. A slow sigh came out of her hidden mouth, and her eyes started to scan the marketplace. She was looking for her new and hidden objective. Who or what was here that perhaps was the next step to her goal? She gave herself a faster pace as she looked over the raggedy stands and the gear people of this clock town.

But one such gear seemed to stand out to her; in fact, she was not part of the grand design of this town at all, but an intruding insect passing through. And not just any insect. She was a golden winged butterfly that seemed to flit around in avoidance of these grinding gears. That golden butterfly was in the form of a young girl that seemed to do as she pleased among the busybodies. The girl with a pot under her arm seemed to scoff at a gullible woman buying from a merchant of false wares. It mattered not if the ghost intervened in this encounter; she merely passed by this act of cruelty. The merchant would meet his demise soon enough for his duplicity.

The butterfly girl was ahead of the ghost now, heading to the river. Not trying to even conceal her presence, she followed silently behind...

Pinkie Pool's archnemesis: Oatmeal.