Chapter Text
Spoken by the days of yore,
A girl whom danger yearns for;
She sings with all the cherub's grace,
Eyes shimmering like spring's oaken leaf
And hair of raven, crow, and sparrow.
Bearing pure white pinafore
And skin of tree's bark,
Speckles 'pon her cheek,
She transforms into beast.
Not unto whim, no
The beast inside her is
A whole 'nother being
That controls her like a God does his fruit.
'Fore she speaks to none and is born again
Each year of the Wolfe
Every hundred years she comes again,
After aging as the normal man,
Though she has lived for thousands and
Thousands of years in our forest.
She is borne of
The trees and their spirits.
She is the spirit of
The forest itself.
Both good and evil
Encompass her.
Beauty is she,
But beauty is fatal,
When named both,
Jadien and Becquerel.
Bullshit. That's exactly what he though of the legend.
He didn't even begin to believe that kind of egregious and puerile lunacy. No, no, he was the kind of guy who totally tore it all to hell. Screw the elders - they just wanted to scare kids like him. And the thought stuck with him.
Five years old, when he was first told the story so he never wandered into the forest, or even out at night;
Eleven years old, when he was first told that he was born in the year of the Wolf and became just a tad bit curious, even if he "didn't believe an ounce of that little kid crap";
Seventeen years old, when he knew he didn't believe it, but christ, this whole thing was really just too interesting for him to pass up.
All of the sudden, he was asking around town, finding out everything he could about the legend and the beastly girl - Jadien and her inner monster, Becquerel. Sadly, few wanted to even begin to elaborate about the old myth, most in the twon being very strong believers of the legend.
Bullshit. He reminded himself that's what it was frequently ( not because maybe he was starting to believe it, though ).
The notebook he kept in his hands was cloth-bound and worn with age, its pages filled with notes about her - Jadien. The forest guardian, the town's blessing and curse, its protector and bane. Sketches, stories, bullets of information, or what little he got out of the villages.
Stupid, superstitious idiots. It was just some silly girl in a dress. It wasn't like she was real or anything.
Right?
Right.
His name was Karkat Vantas, and he didn't believe in fairy tales or beast-infested girls.
Boy, was he wrong.