They thought she was one of the youngest when she came in the door, the red and white and black people. She was happy and curious as she observed them all, although they were beautiful and horrible and quite, quite deadly. But as she passed she heard one say "Amongst the Eldest Clan there was no monogamy," she smiled and shook her head and said "That's not how I remember it." They started to frown, thinking her pretentious, but she went up to the Throne casually and sat next to a writhing abomination, all hair and bone and tentacle, and spoke to it familiarly as it hoarsely hissed. "I know, Princess, but you're not really happy, are you?" With the smallest movement of her hand It went still. A frowning man in a red coat and black, black hair came up to question her, but she smiled again and gently said "Fwisk." "Fwisk?" he repeated puzzled, and realized he was dead. Then all the people were stirred, and some tried to flee, and some tried to fight, but she passed among them, lightly, unperturbed, unshakable, and where she had passed they all were still. One or two she spared; "You're cute," she dimpled at a youth with blonde hair like a Greek god, and let him flee. She paused by a large black cat with white markings in recognition. "You're here?" she questioned. It stared at her. "Well, get up. Get up!" It stared at her, not to be bidden. "Oh, very well, stay that way, if you must" she said, amused. As she headed out the door she called behind her "If any of you want revenge, you can find me at Samarra," then turned her head back as a thought struck her. "Oh, but you're all dead, aren't you?" "We were all dead anyway, ducky," drawled an elderly lady, her wattles shaking as her body shut down. "It's simply a matter of degree." Outside she stepped into a twilight world that, still, was clear and sharp as far as the eye could see, trees to hills to sea to stars. She rose fearless forward through the air, determined to voyage out no matter what might meet her.
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