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She doesn’t know her base and she does not want to. She never would, never could. She is the least human of them, or perhaps the most. Emotion came naturally to her. Or perhaps love did. Loyalty.
Utterly, to her sisters.
Atropos was strong but stern, an older sister who needed the protection of a guard. Lachesis was a gift just for her, a little sister with a mad and bloodthirsty edge and a hunger for feeling and freedom.
In the end, that’s what destroyed them.
She was made this way. She came into the world and before she saw him, their creator and abuser who she could not leave because Atropos would never leave, Lachesis don’t you understand however afraid you are I have been for so long but she’s so small, and she’s ours, and—
A blank expression. Perhaps her curse was that she had the least of herself, so what of her could she give? Lachesis is a mad dog, Atropos is a lap pet.
“This is Clotho,” Glion had said. “She’s our new weapon. And your new sister.”
He should have said something to her, she thinks now.
She just remembers Atropos nodding.
“Sister,” she had said. “Of course.”
“Sister,” Clotho had said. “…And fighter.”
Maybe, then, she was the first to claim humanity.
She existed for pain. To hurt others. To keep her sisters and Glion for pain. While Lachesis basked in her own madness - and oh, what a gift she was. Violent, yes, but her joy was infectious. She was a selfish girl, Clotho thinks. She always was.
Clotho didn’t mind. Not when they were together. Lachesis’ selfishness was one born of her heart - full of joy and love and curiosity.
Her sisters were naive. Lachesis believed she was safe. Atropos believed she was loved. Clotho said nothing, because they were true, when she was by their sides.
Lachesis was her prize. Clotho thinks it maybe isn’t fair to her. She didn’t ask to be born, but neither did Clotho, and they were both happy, she thinks.
But Clotho was made for pain. So she said none of that, it hurt too much. Lachesis hummed when she was bored and thought she was alone. She longed for more - dreams. Wishes. Freedom.
So Clotho, out of love, accepted her lack of understanding.
Clotho accepted it because—
Pain was every power up. They hurt and tore her apart, and she endured.
Pain was hands on her body, on theirs, sprouting out.
That was nothing. That was expected. She is an object, and unlike her sisters, she is okay with it. Pain for revenge, for protection, for power…
They had years of waiting, of peace. Clotho practiced fighting and Lachesis lounged boredly and Atropos worked on her alchemy. She remembers those times fondly.
Preparations for the end of a world that was not made for them. Preparations for a world they will not be made for, either. Shadows of shadows of a godlike being.
She screams, and no one hears. Because she is made to take this.
Clotho isn’t human, which perhaps would make her the closest. Humans do not doubt their nature, they just are.
Humans have family. Humans have a desire to grow for the ones they love.
Atropos dies.
She does for Kudo Rinne, who was her real twin. For a family she really loved.
Lachesis dies.
A smile on her face. Dreams of a human life that are nothing like her - her teeth pulled, her wings clipped, to become human.
Is that all humanity is? A body and a failed dream? Is that all Clotho is?
A failed dream?
Pain she can endure, but now she has failed her only mission.
A sister.
Her first word.
It isn’t fair.