Shadows of the sucessor

Ms. Wildstar holds up her hand. She's staring at her fingers. I see she's painted her fingernails black, and they are an inch and half long. And filed into points. I shake my head. I knew she'd been bored since Zsmed ditched her for Delilah and then wandered off to sort adverbs with Nekar, but giving herself freakish manicures wasn't what I'd pictured her doing in her down time. She'd always seemed more the bookish or doodling sort.

She spreads her fingers wide and takes a swipe at the empty air in front of her. A satisfied smile creeps across her lips.

That's when I recognize the nails and that smile. They belong to her older, far more jaded and violent incarnation. I clear my throat. "What are you doing?"

"I found these lying around." She waves her hand of claw-like nails. "I was just trying them on. They feel so right."

"Those are Ms. MC's. Not yours. Take them off."

"But..." Ms. Wildstar glances at the shadows under my desk where I see Delilah pouting and casting longing looks at Zsmed.

Maybe this young woman does have some of the backbone of her replacement after all. However, I don't need her honing her revenge skills. Having recently cleared out a fifty pages of Ms. MC's similar lack-of-sympathy-inducing antics, I really didn't need to deal with the issue all over again.

I adopt my best accusing motherly tone. "You're not planning on doing anything to anyone with those, are you?"

Her gaze falls to the floor and her shoulders slump. "No, of course not."

That's more like her. "Good. Hand over the nail implants. They got dropped from the story for the same reason as those eyeballs that are rolling around here somewhere. Besides, you could really hurt someone with those. They're metal and sharp. Ms. MC ripped out a few throats with them in her time."

"I know. I've read." Ms. Wildstar limply points at the litter of a thousand torn pages that forms the landscape her world. "She gets to have all the fun."

"If you'd like to be tortured by having your nails ripped out one by one, I'll gladly go get the pliers, but I didn't think you were into that sort of thing."

She pales. "Um, no. That's ok. I'd forgotten that part." She backs away. "Maybe I'll go have a talk with Delilah and see if she wants to come with me to talk to those boys who don't get blown up anymore. They're kind of cute."

I try to picture Ms. Mc saying such a thing as a teen and fail. They can't be the same people. I never intended them to be the same. Nah, can't be. I smile and wave her off to her awaiting friend and impending giggle-filled adventure.