Fairy tale Dark

Once upon a time there was a girl named Otem. Otem had a rather large chip on her shoulder, though it was not necessarily any weightier or more sizable than those chips carried around by others. Especially when one takes into account that just about every single beating heart in a 10 mile radius had been unceremoniously thrust from everything they had known and held dear, into a dark and twisted wonderland of magic and mutations.  Otem's mother had died. So had many others. Otem was angry. So were many others. Otem felt lost, impetuous, misunderstood, without guidance, vengeful, rebellious, small, immaterial, immortal. But so did many others.  and yet Otem felt herself to be so unique in her hurt and grief that she had fled every kind stranger and found relative, and come to this place of dusk and bio-luminescence. Here she could be properly broody and upset for this was the perfect backdrop for her pain. She was the granddaughter of the Earth God after all, and though she blamed him and the rest of the Helovian Gods for the demise of Helovia, at the same time she carried his blood and his ram-horns with pride (though this was another splinter in the chip Otem carried, for how could she be proud to be the grand-offspring of a God who no longer lived?). "Maybe we could just ... live here." Otem mused outloud as she and Pandora came to the base of the vast dragonfly willow. The oak-marked child looked up into its boughs, watching with adoring eyes as glowing fronds fell gently from above. otem

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