unedited - 1
universe: i wish no more harm

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

note: an interaction i just needed to write, will definitely be revisited and edited. nilam just suffers in this universe, and i'm hoping to add more to anil's character. title is just for organisation.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Her stomach ached as she made her way up the stairs. Her cloak trailed behind her, the weight throwing her off-balance. The fact that all it took was a little fabric to * her off, that irked her more than any fatigue could. Beneath her feet, the carpet seemed to dull every day. Whether it was the dust or her mind playing some pointless trick on her, she’s never know. Her crown shifted from side to side with every step she took towards her room. Her gaze shifted to the walls, trying to find some peace in the chaos of the infinite paintings, tapestries and sculptures. Beautiful, truly. A shame that they were destined to rot in some noble’s basement after the auction.

The drag of the cloak grew stronger and her head felt lighter. She staggered towards the entrance of her room. With a wave of her arm, she disabled the security systems, the marking on her palm glowing a muted red. She was far too exhausted to deal with them, but she made it a point to enter the room and lock the doors as quickly as possible. As soon as she was welcomed by the sight of her catastrophically messy desk and glimmering chandelier, she collapsed onto the bed. Her mind raced, stuck in a state where she was far too tired to move, yet not enough to fall asleep. Convenient.

“Nilam.” a voice whispered. Her body froze at the familiar voice, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted.

No. No, not him.

“I’m tired, not today.” She replied after several moments. Her limbs tensed, sinking into the mattress. The silk suddenly felt too cold, the air too still.

“You don’t get to choose.” he stated, smug as ever.

“You’re just in my head, I’m in full control of this.” Nilam groaned more to herself than to the figure before her. He was translucent, yet his silhouette perfectly discernable.

“That’s a lie, you know it.”

“Am I to believe you are some spirit, Anil? Some ghost haunting my every waking moment?”

“I can haunt your dreams instead, if you’d like.”

“Leave.”

The past year had been exceptionally taxing on her. The world is a difficult place to navigate once you’ve been swallowed by loss. With every breath she takes, she is reminded of his betrayal, and more importantly, her failure.

They remained in silence for a few minutes, allowing Nilam to recollect her thoughts. She took in a deep breath and tried not to focus on the dampness of her hair.

“Where are the others?” Her voice was feeble. The question had remained at the tip of her tongue for weeks, but she never really wanted the answer. Until now. Anil tilted his head in confusion, but after one look at her face, he looked down and sighed.

“They’re enjoying my realm.” He replied, though he was aware that his answer was unsatisfactory. “They,” he proceeded cautiously, “didn’t want to visit.”

Nilam closed her eyes. The words stung more than she expected them too. “Why?”

“They don’t see a need for it, I think.” He said.

That was when Nilam’s heart began to break.

“No need? After everything I’ve been through, they think there’s no need to meet me?” Nilam whispered, “Anil, it would’ve been so much easier if I had died with all of you, you know that right? You’re the reason I’m here, for gods sake. You and your cursed corruption, it’s the reason we’re in this mess. That, and my blatant incompetence.”

“Nilam, I think-”

“Shut up, no, seriously. Are you still trying to control me?” Her voice was growing louder, more desperate and pained with every word.

Anil’s neutral expression faltered, nearly offended at the statement.

“You killed them, you know that right?” Nilam asked, “And they’d still rather spend time with you over the one that got left behind.”

No, this wasn’t fair.

“Anil, you slaughtered them without mercy and made me kill you. You smiled and cherished the whole event. My friends, the people that kept me alive, ruthlessly murdered by the boy I had fallen in love with. To top it all off, said boy forces me to kill him and save myself. Do you know how many times it replays in my head? Over and over again, and every single time I stab myself instead. That battle lasted not more than a day to the rest of you, right?”

Anil shifted uncomfortably, tempted to console her, but he knew it was far from his place to do so.

“My whole life has been dictated by you. I am forced to fix your mistakes, help the people you hurt. In doing so, I have living in that battle ever since. I’ve been forced to drown myself in those long hours, replaying every moment because I have no choice. My existence will forever be dictated by something you did, and my friends think it doesn’t matter. That I saw them die. Do you understand that?” She was screaming now, seated on the mattress, finger pointed at him.

“I was corrupted.” He whispered.

“And I don’t care.” She spat.

version 2
universe: i wish no more harm

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

note: i tried to redeem anil's character slightly, however i thing i lost some of the weight of the situation. the dialogue doesn't seem as sad, if that makes sense? while i do strongly believe that nilam has a breaking point, i don't think this is the right place for it, but i'm still unhappy with the lack of emotion.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

“So you’ll visit regularly?”

Nilam wondered how she found herself in this situation: staying up at night talking to the ghost of the person that ruined her life. She lay on her side with her back against the wall. It was uncomfortable, but she didn’t have it in her to care.

“Probably, I don’t have anything better to do.” He replied with a tilt of his head. The figure seated beside her was translucent and glowed a faint crimson, and if she looked closely, she would notice that his hair was black instead of a rich brown and that his hazel eyes were adorned with flecks of green. These faults should have stood out instantly, but she didn’t care enough to notice. Company was company, and she was grateful for it.

“Does she miss me?” She asked.

He cautiously ran his hand through a lock of her hair. “Who?”

“Manasa,” She chose to ignore his feigned cluelessness.

“She hopes you’re doing well, I’m sure.” He said.

“Does she not enquire about my whereabouts? I’ve been expecting her visit for a long time.” She said with a raised eyebrow.

“She doesn’t talk about you much, she’s busy with Karunya.”

Nilam paused. Manasa was someone she held very dear, and for the past year, she had been patiently waiting for news from her best friend.

“Does she not have the time?”

“Nilam, I don’t think-”

“So she doesn’t wish to visit me, understood.” She whispered, holding back a stubborn tear. She’d fought through worse, and it will take more to see her cry. Oh, how far she’s come: an astonishingly sensitive child turned into a stoic excuse of a mage. Her friends must be glad.

“It’s nothing like that.”

“Do not lie to me, Anil. I deserve the truth from at least you.”

He sighed, closing his eyes and resting a hand on her shoulder, to which she flinched. She shifted her body, now lying on her back. Beneath her were sheets of golden silk, which she was grateful for since the mattress below was painfully firm. The ceiling above seemed duller than usual everything around her did. Odd.

“I am here, trying my best to make amends. Is that not enough?”

She spoke, “This is not about you.”

“I know, I just-” His voice faltered, “I know it’s not possible to compensate my actions. And they believe that since I’m at fault, there’s no need for their interference.”

“Checking up on me is not interference.”

“Valid argument, but death changes people. They become . . . less rational.”

“But you’re here?”

“Our arrangement is far from rational.” He stated with a dry scoff. Nilam nodded slowly.

“I want to be free, Anil.” she whispered.

“From what, the luxuries of the palace?” He attempted at humouring her. She forced a small smile.

“How long was the battle?” She noticed his expression drop, “A few hours, was it not?” He nodded, and she took a deep breath.

“To me, I-” She struggled to phrase it correctly, “The battle, it’s dictated my life ever since; it probably will till my dying breath. Those moments have lasted about a year. Day after day, I have to surround myself in it.”

His brows furrowed, unable to hide his confusion. “Why?”

“That is my job, analysing those few hours to make sure it never happens again. I help the people you’ve harmed, Anil, and I fix all the problems you created. And for that, the nobles find it necessary that I-” She paused, “I must drown myself in the details. I must relive those moments with every breath.”

“That’s unecessary.”

“Are you aware of the extent of the damage you dealt? I failed, and this is the only way I can repay-”

“Failed? You killed me, you stopped me.”

“No. Anil, I didn’t prevent anything. You killed everyone, and t-then,” A tear rolled down her cheek, “y-you knelt before me and made me stab you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“Whatever you’re going to say, I assure you that it won’t help.”

“I want to fix things, Nilam.”

“You can’t. It’s far too late. I just wish that,” She sighed, “your actions didn’t have to dictate my entire existence. And I miss my friends, Anil. I miss them so much.” Her voice was beginning to tremble.

“I’ll ask them to visit, if you’d like that.” He suggested. She nodded in response. He continued, “They’ve changed so much, and trust me, they’re not worth any emotion from you.”

“I’ll decide that for myself.” She said firmly.

“I’m sorry,” He muttered, “For everything. For getting corrupted, for the whole fiasco.”

“Fiasco is an astronomical understatement.” Nilam quipped. He let out a dry laugh, though his regret was clear as day. She knew his apologies were sincere, yet she couldn’t bring herself to accept them. “I wish I didn’t get left behind.” She mumbled.

They dwelled in the silence for a while before she noticed Anil’s figure begin to fade. She closed her eyes, and by the time the chandelier above returned to her view, he was gone. She was glad he made it a point to visit, but she was aware that the last thing she needed was more . . . triggers; more things that act as a catalyst for a downward spiral. In all honesty, she didn’t care. His company was the only thing keeping her sane. How inconvenient.

“Get some rest,” She commanded herself, “You are in desperate need of it.”

noé and jagriti - someone on your mind?
universe: chb ocs

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

note: i love their dynamic the more i think about it. especially considering that their alignments are chaotic good (noé) and lawful evil (jagriti). they were also revamped versions of my old chb ocs (noé was previously . . . forget their name and jagriti was jordan). jagriti is tamil and noé is spanish. i had to look up the slang so i have no idea if these are correct but fingers crossed. i love writing about friendships like these, so hopefully more of these two in the future.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

“Noé, where is it?”

“None of your business, Calaca.”

Noé was seated across the couch in the Primordial Gods' cabin, determined to ignore that Jagriti was in search of his diary. He fiddled with a scrap of fabric, observing how the gold embroidery glinted in the light.

“Come on, who is this mystery soul that has won over your stone heart?” She whined. He rolled his eyes and threw the cloth across the room.

“No one, I don’t who you’re—what’s the word? Rambling? Yes, rambling. I don’t know who you’re rambling about.” He argued, crossing his arms in defiance. She raised an eyebrow. How does someone show so much with just their eyebrows, while maintaining an otherwise emotionless expression?

“You don’t trust me?” She accused.

“Woah, you said that, not me.” Noé said, throwing his hands in the air. Jagriti groaned, forcing a smirk out of him. “What,” he teased, “Do you want it to be you?”

“Shut up, da. Anyway, know that I will hold this against you. Also, you’ve dated like, what, seven people in the last three months?”

He tensed up, to which she tilted her head. “Didn’t mean in a negative way.” She explained.

“Six people, not seven.” He jested. She rolled her eyes and collapsed onto a nearby chair. God, she couldn’t sit like a normal person to save her life.

“I hate it when you date people for fun. How many of them have broken up with you?” She asked.

“I broke up with all of them.” He cautiously answered. Jagriti sighed and furrowed her brows. He was well aware of her disapproval, and it didn’t help that she didn’t even try to hide it.

“Respectfully, you’re a—what’s the thing you say? (redactied)?”

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

“From what angle?”

“You’re the worst friend ever. Mates are supposed to be, you know, supportive? Is it so hard?”

"Suma suma. Who even says ‘mates’?” She countered and he cursed under his breath.

“Not the point.” He mumbled. She let out a tsk sound and began to fiddle with the loose threads of her baggy jeans. Cement grey, their colour was one he loathed with his whole heart.

“Is this one different?” She asked; she always did, and he always said yes. Then they’d last two weeks, and the list of people who hated him with a burning passion grew longer. She knew this too, so why was even asking?

“I don’t know, I’m not getting my hopes up.” He replied.

“Want to change topic?” She said, and he nodded. “A shame,” she continued, “I was enjoying your uncomfort.”

“You’re a ray of sunshine, Tramposa.”

“How insulting of you, nai. One day, I will uncover the identity of ‘Mi cielito’ and you will never hear the end of it.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Sleepover; you talk a lot in your sleep.” She said with a shrug.

“Anyone on your mind?” Noé questioned. He grinned as he noticed Jagriti’s eyes narrow.

“No, we both know I’m above such things.” She joked. He chuckled and grabbed a chair, placing it next to hers.

“Honestly, no one?” He muttered.

“Luckily, no. Now tell me about mystery person.” She demanded.

“You’re a child.” He hissed.

“I know.” She said with a small grin.

“You have a spar with Alain in about, uh, five minutes?” He reminded her. Her eyes widened and her face was in her hands, to which he let out a hearty laugh.

“How badly did you lose last time?”

“I didn’t,” she scowled, “because I played by the rules. She cheated, and she always does.”

“They have my respect if they manage to scare you.” He said and smirked.

“Shut up, kurangu. Do you like to see me suffer?”

“What’s that word? Ah, yes, leave with haste dear friend.” Noé quipped resulting in Jagriti letting out an exasperated groan.

“Meet you later?”

“I’ll find you, don’t worry. Origami this time or—”

“We’re never doing origami ever again.”

“Such resentment towards paper?”

That was supposedly Jagriti’s last straw since she sprinted out of the cabin, Noé giggled and stretched his limbs. Part of him hoped that she'd find out who it was because it was too much work trying to keep it a secret, but he knew the consequences were not worth it. Endless jokes, teasing and pranks? Nope, absolutely not.

And with that Noé decided that he deserved to bask in the orange sunshine, being as unproductive as ever while singing terribly to annoy his cabin-mates. That sounded like a treat.

aizah and nanditha: night skies and painkillers
universe: interwoven


*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

note: another title merely for organisation. these two need more fleshing out, but i am still content. i do like the dialogue in this piece a lot though.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Nanditha glanced nervously at the bruises on Aizah’s left knee.

“Are they listening?” Nanditha signed. Aizah shook her head, which relieved some of Nanditha’s stress, but the tightness in her chest lingered. Her eyes narrowed as her palm grazed beside a particularly frightening wound.

“This?” Nanditha whispered. Aizah hesitated to respond, which irked Nanditha, but she finally managed, “The blade was . . . special. I’m not sure, sorry.”

Nanditha didn’t fail to notice how often Aizah’s gaze wandered to her hair. For once, it was untamed and messy; she wondered whether Aizah preferred it that way.

Aizah’s finger made its way to a stray lock, gently brushing against the silver strands. “Looks different.” She murmured.

“How perceptive of you.” Nanditha jested, to which Aizah tilted her head and smiled.

The two sat in silence, occasionally paying attention to the night sky above. Shades of deep purple and greys provided a stark contrast to the lilac clouds.

“Let’s dress your injuries.” Nanditha offered, but Aizah dismissed it with a shake of her head. “No, it’s okay. It’s not that bad.” Aizah said. Nanditha scoffed, “I’ll decide that for myself.”

Soon the lilac clouds blended in with the navy blues, the greys shifted to blacks, and the stars finally decided to make an appearance. Nanditha spotted three in the sky, tiny but as bright as ever. The moon peeked through a fleeting cloud or two, and the sky seemed brighter for it. Aizah loved the skies.

“Your hair looks like it was made of starlight,” Aizah stated blankly. Nanditha wondered if Aizah had even meant to voice the statement, so she didn’t pay much attention to it. Yet, heat crept to her cheeks, and the pace of her heartbeat picked up ever so slightly.

“How much painkillers did you take?” Nanditha sighed.

“Probably too many.” Aizah confessed.

“Go sleep.”

“No, the view's quite nice today.”

“Then do just that and stop rambling.” Nanditha mumbled and ran her hand through her hair. Her thoughts raced back to Aizah's wound, more specifically the mention of a ‘special blade’. If their opponents were getting creative, they would have to reinforce a few barriers soon.

“We're in danger, aren't we?” Aizah whispered.

“We're always in danger.” Nanditha replied.

“I want you to be safe.” Aizah said. Nanditha's gaze met Aizah's, brows furrowing. “We are—”

“I want to protect you,” Aizah continued, "No matter the cost. You've been caring for me for too long thangam. I have to do—“

”You being alive is more than enough for me,“ Nanditha paused, ”It is more than what I deserve.“

Aizah shook her head and held her hand. ”You deserve the world, the skies, the heavens and everything in between. If not that, you at least deserve to be happy.“

”I am happy,“ Nanditha said.

”With a life of being on the run?“

”With the life I chose to spend with you.“

”I made you choose this,“ Aizah argued.

”You didn't make me choose to stay.“ Nanditha's tone was stubborn, and Aizah couldn't help but admire it.

”We are young; we have a long road ahead of us.“ Nanditha said, gazing at the stars.

Aizah gestured at her wound. ”With trouble at every corner, I doubt it.“

”Don't say that,“ Nanditha said.

”Say what?“

”That we won't make it out of here alive.“

”You will. I have no doubt about it.“

”Shut up, Aizah. Go get some rest."

Aizah let go of Nanditha's hand, stood up with a groan and made her way back to the cabin. The wooden floor creaked with every step she took. Nanditha's hand recoiled from the sudden lack of warmth. Aizah's words stung, and she feared whether she believed that Nanditha was too incompetent to keep her alive. Aizah was far too eager to sacrifice her life, and it irked Nanditha. She wants the best for Nanditha, but yet fails to realise that all Nanditha needs at the moment is her. How convenient.

jagriti's nightmare
universe: chb ocs

praying this doesn't get taken down lmao TuT

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

note: jagriti's backstory isn't done but i have a vague idea of it. also, tw for bl00d and this is a nightmare scene, so do proceed with caution. also her mom is . . . complicated. please, do proceed with caution.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Her years before Camp Half-Blood often blurred together, yet certain parts have always been too clear for her liking. A haze of dull grey shifted into painfully sharp images, and the voices caused her head to spin. It suffocated her to the point where she feared closing her eyes and getting the rest she desperately needed.

Too late now.

TW: there is a lot of bl00d, so please, proceed with caution thanks :)

Drip.

The world shifted from darkness to lilac. The floor beneath her was cold, and her hands were covered in . . . bl00d. It was dripping down her skin, clinging to her hair. She could taste it as it coated her tongue. Gods, there was so much of it. She could feel it pooling beneath her feet, somehow crawling up her legs. Her clothes clung to her body, fusing with her skin. She tried to scream, but it trickled down her throat, warm and saline.

Drip. Drip.

The sky above was a glossy crimson. It felt like she was turning to stone, so all she could do was close her eyes while it began to pour. The droplets melted in her palm and seeped through the gaps between her fingers. The smell became unbearable, and the sound of bl00d hitting the stone beneath her drove her insane. Her insides curled.

end of TW for bl00d

Drip. Drip. Drip.

She wanted it to stop. She would do anything to make it stop.

“Anything?”

The voice made her skin crawl. The words echoed in her skull, absolutely maddening. Gods, she hated this.

“Amma?” Jagriti mumbled, a tear daring to roll down her cheek.

"Selflessness and desperation do not suit you, thangam,“ Amma replied.

Jagriti's eyes widened as the floor gave away beneath her. The world shifted once again, forcing her to close her eyes as a blinding white light filled her vision. Once she managed to pry them open, she observed the scenery around her: pleasant skies, fresh and dewy grass, and petals dancing along as a gust of wind took her by surprise. Her mother faced her, wearing her favourite saree. Jagriti noticed how the edges blurred into the background, like one of Noé's watercolour pieces.

Jagriti opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't manage to utter a single word. Amma chuckled and ran a hand through her luscious hair.

”Cat got your tongue?“ She asked, ”Your father would be so immensely disappointed; he always claimed you had a way with words.“

”What?“ Jagriti said.

Amma walked closer. Her skin glowed in the sunlight, and gods, she looked so painfully alive.

”You have to fix this, Jagriti. I deserve that much at least, right?“ Amma whispered, caressing Jagriti's cheek.

”Fix what?“ Jagriti asked, closing her eyes and enjoying the warmth of her mother's touch, ignoring the fact that it wasn't real.

”You caused this, chellam. A life for a life, though I do think it is insulting that your father believes we are even remotely equal.“

”Ma, what—“

”Shut up and do what must be done. You want to make me proud, right? I deserve a daughter that actually loves me."

The sky faded into darkness, and her mother began to bleed into it. Jagriti knelt as the dirt morphed into quicksand. The sand clung to her skin, itchy and cold.

You know nothing, The sand whispered, suddenly pouring into her ears. Do the right thing—the noble thing.

I would if I was brave enough, she replied. Make it stop, please.

The sand cackled as it enveloped her, rushing into her eyes, overwhelmingly cold. She hugged her knees and brought them against her chest, her nails digging into her skin. A shiver ran down her spine as shadows surrounded her.

“Jagriti?”

Noé's voice managed to end that torturous nightmare. Jagriti jolted upward, her head throbbing and her fingers trembling. Her body and hair were dripping with sweat, gleaming in the light of the nightlamp.

“Shut up.” Jagriti blurted. She was in no mood for some heartfelt nonsense, especially not after . . . whatever the hell that was.

“Water?” Noé asked, holding out a copper water bottle. Jagriti nodded slowly, a wave of exhaustion washing over her.

He made his way next to her and hopped onto the bed. She snatched the bottle from him, earning a look of annoyance. She took a sip before placing it on the floor, her arms barely able to hold it for more than a few seconds.

Noé placed his hand on her shoulder, hoping to provide some sense of comfort. She nodded and placed her hand over his, trying to keep it there for as long as she could.

aizah and nanditha: what a shame
universe: interwoven

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

note: sort of proud? i thought i did a good job with everything other than dialogue. i love dialogue, but i tried to write less of it, and i don't think it's too bad

word count: 564

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Aizah sat across the table, trembling as the waitress brought out the first course. The air around her was frigid and raised the hairs on her skin, so as soon as she was presented with a warm plate, she clutched onto its edge, the intricate carvings transferring onto her palm. A shiver ran down her spine.

How did she let it come to this?

A bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. No, was it sweat or a tear? She hung her head low, determined to remain as silent as possible. Too much was on the line; she couldn't afford to let the situation get the better of her. Her hair brushed against her eyes, and she toyed with the fork in a feeble attempt to concentrate on something other than the person sitting across from her. This was torturous.

“Why are you so dull?” Nanditha's voice tore through the silence. She began to eat her meal: a tough bread with a side of concerningly vibrant vegetables. Nanditha glanced at the plate before her to find a portion of rice and rasam. She knew better than to indulge.

“There was only one way our story was going to end.” Nanditha said, monotonous. Aizah winced at the words, refusing to meet Nanditha's gaze. “It was written in the stars,” Nanditha continued, “You know that well enough.”

“Since when were you one to believe such nonsense?” Aizah drawled. Nanditha scoffed and brought her attention back to her food. Aizah straightened her posture and laced her fingers, resting them on her lap. Her gaze was still fixed on the marble beneath, focusing on the gold veins flowing through each tile.

“There's no point denying the truth,” Nanditha claimed, her voice firm. Aizah resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Oh please, are you listening to yourself?” Aizah asked, gently placing her hands on the table. Nanditha scoffed, running a hand through her iridescent hair.

“Have I told you how aggravating your voice is?” Nanditha remarked, her expression creeping into a smile. Aizah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I ought to do it more often.” Nanditha continued.

Aizah adjusted the collar of her shirt and toyed with the hem of her sleeves. She placed her hand on her things and drew circles with her thumbs. Nanditha had taught her that. She swept her hair to the side and let out a sigh.

“Will you not say anything back? No witty retorts? You're almost making me feel bad.” Nanditha jested as she placed her plate to the side.

“Who do you work for?” Aizah questioned.

“Why does it matter?” Nanditha replied.

“You want to kill me, don't you?” Aizah whispered. Nanditha's gaze softened.

“Took you long enough.” Nanditha said with a small smile

Nanditha wanted to kill her.

Aizah's mind went blank. Her heart was in her throat, and her palms grew sweaty. Suddenly the air was too cold, the light too bright and Nanditha's voice was far too loud. The words echoed in her skull, over and over again. Aizah felt . . . hollow.

Why would Nanditha want to kill her?
Did she not matter?
Did it mean nothing to her? The years they spent together, knowing no life but the one in which they cared for each other.

“Cat got your tongue?” Nanditha quipped.

Oh, how did Aizah mess it up so badly?

fairies and fiascoes

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

word count: 109

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Many things bothered Aditi the Small, but right now, it was probably the fairy messing up her lovely black hair.
It flew across the room, snickering, and how cruel it could be! It was only last week that it ruined her lovely purple gown. She couldn't stand a chance against Tarun's other friends!
So the young child ran, leaping from corner to corner. She shook her arms like one of the feral beasts in Tarun's tales.
She jumped over her comb, and alas, she had succeeded! The trickster was cornered! She reached forward to grab it, grinning wide as a cat.

Swish.

Only for it to flee once more.