Remember, remember, the fifth of November
She didnt know why that part of the rhyme was always the bit she hummed to herself. She didnt remember when she had started to hum it.
She didn’t remember a lot of things.
People thought her harmless because of that.
A shrieking laugh, mocking and high pitched, escaped her. It echoed in the surrounding woods. That was their foolish mistake.
She forgot dates, places, random objects, but never faces, never names. She was a faerie, an unseelie, names had power, power she could use, power she adored. Why would they think she would forget?
She’d let them though. She would let them think she was harmless. She’d let them think she was nothing more than a forgetful junkshop owner with wings that fidgeted when she got bored and always had a smile ready to greet her friends with.
It made it all the more fun to cross paths with people who were foolish enough to give her their names and watch them slowly realise what they had done.
Perhaps Dio’s insistence that she was evil wasn’t that far off.
Remember, remember indeed
cheshireinunderland 