(no subject)

She loved her new home; it was fun. It had to be fun; everything was FUN.

"Except that it's not..." That's a quiet whisper, said before glancing at the sky, hair turning white as her face transforms to one of sorrow. "It was supposed to be fun. They told me that they were giving me the earth; that I could experiment with it, and find out everything I'd ever wanted; and that I could have all the little human toys. They said it was my toybox. Mine. I wouldn't have to wait anymore, or pester them with a hundred questions just so they'd tell me that fire worked.

"I got all happy. I was supposed to be happy!" Another shift, hair moving to red as her features turn to anger. "And then they locked me in. They locked me in my toybox, in this STUPID plane of existence where everybody's so closeminded, and small, and nobody has enough power, and all of them just expect me to be <I>nice</I> to them, and they don't even realize how tiny they are in the universe, how little and insignifcant, and wrong they are, and I'm stuck with them! They told me my entire life I was better than these people, and then they just tossed me in with the toys and locked the doors!"

The anger seems to be fading away, the hair shifting back to the white of misery as Lyla stares at the floor, and then to blonde. She speaks, not expecting an answer, her body slowly dwindling to the form of a child, lost and confused and staring up at the skies. "They made me... they said I was special... that I was different. They said they were excited to have me..."

She plucks lightly at her shirt, trying to remember the human it had once been; the human it would be again when she was finished with it.

"...Why did they lock me up in this plane, like a toy?"

Special; 'cause nobody cares.

She smiles; 'cause she's Special. Just Special. That's the only thing they call her - they're not much for names. They don't like them. They're Superior - the only thing they ever call themselves - but she's Special.

She's also Lyla; but she stole that. Stole it like her face, and they don't even notice. She doesn't tell them, and they don't care; she's Lyla. And she's Special. And nobody cares.

They think she asks too many questions; they say it's a "leftover" - she's afraid to ask what it's left over from.

Doesn't matter. Because she's Special. She's as smart as they are; as strong as they are - or good enough. Can change herself like they can -  though she can't remember how she used to look.

And she's Special. They told her so. They said they made her; so she's Special. Made her like them. Except for the questions; she always wants to ask the questions.

Why was the sky red tonight? Why is the grass green? Why do you look differnet than me? What does it al mean? Why are you Superior? What makes me so great? Is it really okay, to look down on the humans and control their fates?

But shhh, they said; it doesn't matter.

Because she's special. Questions shouldn't matter; find a curiosity and follow it; solve it; find another; wait for answers to come to you; don't always ask more; don't pursue unless you know what you're doing; don't question. Don't question. Humans question - she isn't human, is she? She can't question.

She's special.

Just special.

Not special enough; they locked her away. In another plane of existence, with all the humans; all the lesser beings. But that's okay. Because she's Special.

That just means alone anyway.