The castle of Emperor Belos sat in the heart of the Boiling Isles - a foreboding, dark place of fire, brimstone, and barely restrained magic. A smokestack like pillar rose from the heart of the castle, loosing thin streamers of flames and soot into the air periodically, while the fluttering banners of the Belosian Empire caught the hot breeze and shifted against the walls. The guards of the Emperor's Coven stood at attention at the gate, and patrolled along the walls.
Within the castle's corridors, there was one creature who was one step below Belos in terms of power, influence, control.
Said creature kept a secret, buried deep inside her tiny head.
The next step after one remains zero.
Kikimora tented her fingers.
Well, maybe a fraction could-
The front gates of the castle opened with a roaring
crash
and the Golden Guard came stomping in, her tail dragging and her mask off. Her face was splattered with muck, mud, and bits of stringy bile, while her short cropped hair was stringy with a kind of thick, cocoon like substance. She growled and tugged at some of it as she started to walk down the corridor, clearly about to pass Kikimora without noticing the tiny demon was there.
"Ahem."
The Golden Guard sighed, then glowered down at her. "Yes, what?"
Kikimora narrowed the one of her eyes that was visible - her hand-hair remained clasped around her head in a sweeping curve of flesh, concealing a good portion of her face, while her high collared robes did for the rest of it. The Golden Guard scowled, then stood a bit straighter.
"Yes, what is it, Kikimora?" she asked, her voice not even approaching respectful.
"You were out on patrol. Now, you're three hours behind schedule and covered in
slime
." Kikimora frowned behind her collar. "Explain yourself."
"Sometimes, teen girls like me just love to roll around in muck for no reason, Kikimora, check on Penstagram, everyone's just
wild
for it!" She waggled her hands mockingly as she started to stalk away, her shoulders hunched and irritated.
"You ran into The Owl Lady, didn't you?" Kikimora asked, her voice smug as she walked after Catra. "After so much braggadocio-"
"Someone's been in the dictionaries," Catra muttered under her breath.
"-and you have nothing to show for it. What would the Emperor say, if he was to hear this."
"I don't know, Kikimora," Catra said, then turned and glowered down at her. "What would Lilith say if she heard that you were trying to interfere in Emperor Coven business?" She smirked, slightly. "Last time I checked, Lilith was in charge. You run
bureaucracy.
Not covens."
Kikimora narrowed her eyes. "You presume much, Golden Guard."
Catra snorted. "And you talk too much, Kiks."
"Don't call me Kiks!" Kikimora growled, but Catra was already stalking off - flicking a bit of slime she picked from her hair and straight into Kikimora's face.
The urge to rush off and tell Belos was overwhelming. But Kikimora forced herself to wait. Be patient. There were other ways to get her revenge on the arrogant, stuck up foundling that Belos had showered with such acclaim. She had been welcomed into a Coven, without even casting magic
properly
. Kikimora shook her head.
I have a better way to get revenge...
She thought.
All it takes is a stamp.
She, in fact, went to her office, pulled down the papers, hummed cheerfully as she started to white out the large
REJECTED
word in the box. Once she had finished, she examined the papers closely, to make sure everything was just as it should be. She nodded, then brought her stamp down with a huge
whump
. Green text -
APPROVED -
snapped up in the box next to the picture of a smiling, white haired demoness who was trying to wave at the camera midway through getting her coven ID picture taken.
Kikimora, behind her collar, smirked.
Her eye shifted to the other paper, which had six different
REJECTED
red marks on it, several printed across the witchling's face so that the only thing visible was her bright purple hair.
A light touch,
she thought to herself.
A light touch is what is needed for Catra.
Then she grabbed the other paper and started stamping
APPROVED
over every single red mark, cackling to herself as she applied her stamp with malicious will.
***
Catra stood in the shower, watching the last bits of grime and gunk slide off her body and down the drain. The pouring, hot water - spelled into existence in the basement of the castle and pumped through pipes of brass and steel - continued along her shoulders and soaked the base of her neck. Her clawed fingers dug into the tile wall as she clenched her teeth. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She would not cry.
She would not let Adora Grey make her cry.
She
refused
.
Why can't I have anything?