Chapter Text
Whipped Saffron Cookie was supposed to be the perfect little girl.
A beautiful mix of her fathers, the wild curls and flaming of destruction, the sharp smile and delicate touch of deceit.
Delicate. Beautiful.
Too delicate. Too soggy. Too weak.
And so she crumbled before she even knew life, breathing slowed to a stop and cracks splitting across her little body.
They let her die.
And I was what crawled out of the rot. What clawed it's way out of the chest of death.
The sharp smile of deceit, the haunting tresses of deceit. The prying eyes of deceit.
I am not Whipped Saffron. I am just the disappointing culmination of what remained of her.
I have never smelled spice. Never saffron. What remained of the name saffron disappeared with destruction. All that remained was deceit, and the ghost of a lamb who did not yet know what a lie even was.
