Sunset Valley layaway dreams, choked on first breath

The girl halts, whirling around with eyes hurling daggers at the shadowcreature. Morgana pauses mid-step, one onyx-clawed paw hovering above the ground for half a beat, then lowering slowly. Her head cants, mismatched gaze unreadable as she studies the girl. Is there a problem? She asks, toneless, a dark stone sentinel void of reaction or emotion. The Melonii has never cared for children. She holds no great dislike of them, either; they simply exist, an inconvenient larval stage acting as a barrier to true consciousness, training wheels on the true power of higher thought. This in mind, the child's apparent annoyance means little to her. She is simply doing her job as a child; flailing about with her emotions, lashing out, testing the waters and figuring out which suits her best. If she retains her prickliness into adulthood, perhaps she might even survive long enough to enjoy it.