Pasta by Cheese Lord
The girl snorted, looking down passively at the piles upon piles of bodies strewn before her throne. She spat, disgusted. These once "fearsome warriors" had come so far to challenge her, and after all sought, they like everyone else who faced her inside the walls of her kingdom fell dead - nothing but sacrifices to relieve her own everlasting boredom.
But the boredom could not be relieved. All those she faced were simply so small and weak a good bloodshed was so scarce it was almost laughable. The girl, restrained by her chains, could only wait for a worthy prey to come by - a struggle she could enjoy, a struggle where she could savor the sight of the assailant's skin being peeled off by her own hand, all the while he or she fought back and gave the girl a worthy battle for once.
But the day never came. Hours, days, and months passed, but no assailant strong enough came to stand up to her clutches. It was all the same for months on end - a one-sided fight against weak willed soldiers, who could not even lift a finger before the girl disposed of them.
She looked upon the horizon, staring at her rotten waste dump of a kingdom. She sighed. This area had previously been fertile and full of animal life, but that all changed once the clan seized the land, replacing the moist, refreshing plant life with virtually dead, industrial black office buildings, disposing of the animals as well as turning the light blue sky into a rotten, achromatic green that choked the land with its dissonance.
The girl sighed again. Despite the fact that she hated humans for all they were worth, she also felt a sense of loneliness and dread in the air - not only from the lack of a good battle, but from the lack of people in general. The only friends she had were her throne and her lancer, her murder weapon of choice - and she made comfort with the dead bodies scattered and piled across the land. Rotting, dead shells, once human and now stuffed meat puppets to satisfy her own endless grief.
"It's dissonant here..."
A male voice startled her. She looked up, her train of thought shattered, to come face to face with a boy of about her age.
Upon first glance the boy obviously had a taste for the achromatic. His eyes matched his hair - deep dark, grey, and void of true color. His clothes were dark as night, making him nearly invisible to the naked eye, at least under the decaying, dilapidated sky. His face was pale pure white.
"Who are you?" the girl asked. She narrowed her eyes, mentally licking her lips. Maybe a challenge would be in this boy.
"I'm a traveler," he responded, shattering her hopes of a battle. Normal travelers had never fought, rather marched through her wasteland kingdom, the girl letting them firmly pass. Or killing them downright, depending on her mood. "And who might you be?"
The boy looked at her, curiosity in his large grey eyes, the howling winds of the waste dump air beating against his hair.
The girl was long to respond. "It would be best if you did not know."
"You look lonely."
This reply had the girl taken aback. How dare he?
But she was intrigued as well. How did he know? He was just a traveler who came out of the blue, not aware of the rotten, grinning things beneath her skin - and he also oddly did not acknowledge the bodies lying stretched out before his feet, filthy and grimy. But he knew.
"I can sense it in your eyes."
There was indeed a loneliness and sorrow in the girls' light blue eyes - a light blue that was highly out of place with the dilapidated buildings and dripping dead sky.
"Tell me your name, girl," he said, interested in the girl. Perhaps they could be friends - loneliness obviously bled her soul, with only her mere existence keeping her from taking that final step into oblivion alone.
"My name," the girl said, a teardrop, just like a tiny speck of light in a sea of ink black darkness, hitting the grim soil, "is Koromo Amae."