Snippet #2365050

From atop the jeweled throne, much too dramatic for the modern world, Venetia Astrid cradled a small child. There was some fascination, igneous in her dark sable eyes. Usually she'd make some use of the toddler at least - feed or swallow their souls. But this particular child, Maple Thompson, had sparked the queen of the netherworld's curiosity. Maple, such an interesting name for such an ordinary and mundane species. Her Majesty let out a longing sigh, pushing some of the feathery flaxen hair from wide, vacant emerald eyes that stared up at her yet, represented no fear. Only nothingness.

Truth be told, when Venetia had crept her way into this innocent's sleepy visions, it was a last-ditch effort. She was a final resort rather than a high priority. In fact, Venetia had wanted Maple's sister, Ruby, instead. Once she had delicately spun her web, she found Ruby's realm invulnerable. Whatever the defense was that existed, the head of dead state had to acknowledge it respectably. There were few children that could counter her dream punctures. Ruby was a lost cause but her little sister, a few feet away in an opposite bed, was not. Much like the boogeyman himself, Venetia spidered her way into little Maple's mind, chasing her through an eldritch forest in the shape of something she dreaded the most.

Darkness.

After relenting her chase, she slithered out of the reverie like a serpentine monstrosity and sat just beyond Maple's knees which were held tightly to the child's chest. Rather than going with her usual get up, that of a fairy godmother or something saintly, Venetia simply slicked herself in supernal luminescence and snatched a costume tiara off of the bed post. Like that, Maple was sold.

Children were so terribly exploitable.

"Do you have an evil step mother?" Maple nonchalantly cooed as Venetia hooked a nail into the atmosphere, tearing a slit just big enough for the two to fit.
"Oh yes," Venetia crooned, "I'll tell you all about her."
"I bet she's scary," Maple yawned sleepily, nuzzling her face against the queen of the damned's forearm, "Like what I see in my dreams."

Her teeth had been exhibited before Maple's alert eyes - but, Maple simply blinked and let her sternum rise and fall peacefully. Venetia hadn't enchanted her so entirely that she would be at ease and without worry. What was this grit that the mortal child demonstrated? Venetia hadn't seen anything like it. She scaled the halls of the hotel in agonizing, long strides. Toted in her supporting arms was Maple, observing the ominousness of the place she would soon become prisoner to. She did not cry, she did not flinch or shout. The lack of panic was exemplary. But what use could the queen make of a fearless child?

Vague incantation granted little Maple Thompson a wide-eyed vegetative state while Venetia tried to ascertain the tyke. She couldn't do anything with a fearless child. But at that point, she certainly couldn't turn her either.

Now bored by the subject of the brood who was just moments ago mesmerizing, Venitia exhaled and carefully pressed Maple's eyelids closed. At least they wouldn't be open to see her own blood running down the mouth and jowl of the fairytale princess she so trusted. There was lore of Venetia not having a soul, not knowing love. That bit was, well, for the most part, true. But under particular circumstances, she expressed some solicitude. The frightless child had earned that much.