Dark Precure was, perhaps, one of the few people on this train whose death had not followed long after the adventures for which they were known. In fact, she came from the very end of them, at the end of her story... a story about a doll, made under glass, who fought to be something she could never be.
She stared at the brochure she'd been given. What she read would have caused her to rampage if she wasn't aware of the utter futility of it all. Who was this young fool? She was undeserving of her power, her grace. And what's more, she was more or less her hated enemy's sister... a fact undeserving of what Dark Precure was truly entitled to.
And yet... perhaps most aggravating of all... despite her loneliness, her awkwardness, and so much else, she had something Dark Precure never had...
She was happy.
In fact, it seemed as though her power would only grant the girl misery. Was that her fate? Was that her lot in life? To be a curse upon others?
It made her sick inside. But outwardly, Dark Precure sat in her seat without making a sound, glaring at the brochure with a wide-eyed, unreadable expression.
no subject
She stared at the brochure she'd been given. What she read would have caused her to rampage if she wasn't aware of the utter futility of it all. Who was this young fool? She was undeserving of her power, her grace. And what's more, she was more or less her hated enemy's sister... a fact undeserving of what Dark Precure was truly entitled to.
And yet... perhaps most aggravating of all... despite her loneliness, her awkwardness, and so much else, she had something Dark Precure never had...
She was happy.
In fact, it seemed as though her power would only grant the girl misery. Was that her fate? Was that her lot in life? To be a curse upon others?
It made her sick inside. But outwardly, Dark Precure sat in her seat without making a sound, glaring at the brochure with a wide-eyed, unreadable expression.