Ugly Duckling

He strongly believed in all his life he had never seen a person dirtier or more caked in grime and waste than the small mouse of a girl that stood before him now, glowering up at him and somehow managing to make herself look more dangerous than she was. Actually, it was almost laughable, but he was too distracted by the very state of the girl to spare a chuckle over her obvious superiority complex.

In all honesty it was like looking down at a breathing pile of mud; some elemental monster of old, if one wanted to be philosophical about it. He was not sure if she actually had any hair of her own, for her head was completely covered in a helmet of dried, cracked dirt that had surely been gathering there for years. Her face was no better, with layers of earthen smudges that were so thick that a true skin tone was impossible to identify, except perhaps if she were to strip off her undergarmets. Even her clothes seemed to be cemented to her body, but any curves or femininity that might have shown through were masked by the shapelessness of the coarse fabric; it hung from her small, thin shoulders much like a ragdoll, making it impossible to even tell if she was old enough to sport her own pair of breasts. Altogether, she was the filthiest creature he had ever seen, and he shuddered to think of what it would take to even begin to relieve her of her burden of mud, or what might be found beneath after years of neglected good hygiene.

At least, that was how she appeared to the untrained eye. His eyes, however, were refined enough to pick up even the smallest nuisance within the cracking and brittle exterior. The girl was a mess, filthy and soiled beyond measure; but she was anything but hideous.

Ciar smiled grimly.

“Tough little bitch, now aren’t you?” Without warning, he reached for her and caught her by the arm, dragging her forward until she was unbalanced and using the moment of panicked confusion to hoist her over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes – which was exactly what she was for the time being, as far as he was concerned. She screeched in protest and began to struggle, but he only tightened his grip and turned, walking from the room as quietly and nonchalantly as he had come.

A bath would do her good.

~ by eeratka on May 7, 2008.