Summary: He could see right through her. He could see the darkness. (Oneshot)(Vanessa x Tymmie)

Author's Note: Yeah, yeah… odd pairing that just came to me. Takes place after book 6 and before book 7 (You know, when Vanessa's "Pandora side" comes to life? God, I love that book).

Disclaimer: I don't own Daughters of the Moon… Damn you, book 13! Where are you?!


To Slaughter A Butterfly


I stand here, gazing at each and every face. And while these people are dancing and twirling, I stand with such intense misery; misery I can't even comprehend. Why am I so melancholy? Then I know.

These people are so… bad. I guess the term "bad" could be used for this situation. After all, here I stand, wearing a tight, leathery white skirt and a pink, lacy corset… While they –the "bad" people- wear a complete collage of silver and black – no shiny, happy colors such as pink and baby blue.

No… those colors wouldn't show how "bad" they were.

"Why aren't I bad?" I say aloud, scanning the string of dancers.

But then again… Why am I here?

At the Dungeon…


She's so… fascinating.

I stare at her, watching as she stares longingly at the crowd. What is she longing for, though? This question keeps annoying me as it never leaves my head. She glances, again, at her own attire.

"Prep" is what teenagers use in these times – for people like her, who don't understand the meaning of true, bitter loneliness or what it feels like to be shunned by the thing we call "life"

But still… She's very interesting to stare at.

I smirk as she shifts uncomfortably. Why she even here, at the Dungeon? She's a Daughter of the Moon, and she decides to travel into enemy land…? Apparently, the one things she lusts after resides in this scum hole.

Then it clicks.

"She wants to be evil," I snicker.

How sweet.

The Butterfly wants to tear apart her wings, eh? She can't stand being a beautiful, pure creature, anymore? She'd rather become the caterpillar – a being who nobody cares about because they're to busy paying attention to the Butterfly?

My eyes narrow.

Why does she want to be… like me? Like us Followers, who have nothing better to do with our hopeless lives. My eyes darken as I imagine her, the lost Butterfly, having her wings torn apart.

And for some reason, I don't want that to happen…


I can feel someone watching me, examining me.

Without a seconds thought, I place a strong barrier around my mind in case any Follower decides to convert me into the evil that now possesses each of them…

But isn't that what I want…?

"To be bad," I breathe out, enjoying how the word rolls off my tongue.

"Bad": having a wicked or evil character; morally reprehensible.

Oh, great… I can feel that stare again. My eyes narrow as dangerous waves of energy radiate off my body. However, it quickly dies down as I realize that I may in fact harm an innocent person who might have stumbled into this club.

I become repulsed with my own thoughts.

"That's not being bad," I scold myself.


I laughed loudly, enjoying her struggle to be a morally wrong, disastrous, evil human that she's –so far- failing at. Will she ever learn? You need a 'push' to dive into that direction.

However… she already has a sinister side.

I can see it, I can sense it… It's hiding deep within her, waiting for the right moment to strike. And when that day comes, she'll learn what being "bad" is truly like. And she'll regret it immensely.

"Poor, poor Butterfly..." I shake my head, pitying the Goddess. "When will you stop being naïve?"

Before my thoughts on her can progress, she does something interesting, again.

She begins to stumble through the crowd, not giving a damn that many of the Followers are eyeing her with savage, pathetic hunger. They want to be the ones to bring the Goddess down.

And I wasn't going to allow this.


"Stop staring," I whisper.

I've found who has been gazing at me, and it disgusts me.

It's the vile and heartless Tymmie who had –about a year ago- tried to destroy me and my best friend (who I fear is no longer my best friend, but is the ever so perfect, Tianna). He seems to notice me, but makes no notion as to rip his gaze away.

In fact, he just keeps on staring.

"But not like the others," I mumble, puzzled.

While others are watching me, wondering if I should be crossed over, he is merely observing me as I were an animal in a zoo. His gaze bores into mine, and I feel as if I am transparent.

Quickly, I glance at my own body.

No… I'm not turning invisible.

Then why is he staring…? It irritates me to the core. Anger and unexplainable malice rise to the surface as I strut toward him, not understanding this intense need to confront him.

I actually want to tear out his black, empty eyes.

"So he'll never see, again," I giggle.


"That's right, Butterfly," I encourage.

She's thinking about tearing out my eyes. Now she's thinking "bad" thoughts… However, she doesn't even realize it. And she continues to advance toward me threateningly, but I don't give a damn.

"I'm the only savior, you've got."

I am, after all, the only one who is not thinking about tainting this poor girl's soul.

"Quit staring at me," she snarls.

I then realize that she stands right in front of me, her eyes glaring up.

"I'm just watching you… You're very interesting," I admit.

You are interesting, Butterfly. You want so desperately to be something you don't understand. You want to be wrong in every way. You want to a "bad" Daughter like your comrades are. Unlike them, you haven't shown a "bad" side… All you show is good.

Then another idea rings in my head.

"Are you wearing a mask?" I ask.

She eyes me, confused by my question. "A mask?" she repeats.

"Yes… mask. M-A-S-K." I spell it out for her.

She clenches her fists. "I know how to spell, damn it! But what does that mean?"

"You know what it means…"

My hand shoots out and grabs a lock of her golden hair while the other hand grasps a strap from her corset. Her eyes widen, and before she can move away, I stare at her, right in the eye. She is immediately lost in my alluring eyes.

"Now listen," I command. "You're blond-haired, blue-eyed… You wear frilly, pink, bright clothes and you get perfect grades, right? You're terrified to disobey your mother and you make friends easily with your sunshine smile… But deep down, don't you think that a part of you is already "bad", and because of this knowledge, you unknowingly hide your dark side?

"Because you are evil," I continue, "Because something so… perfect… has to be evil. You're like a beautiful predator who can easily string in their prey because the prey is so captivated by the predator's perfect beauty.

"So I guess… You aren't wearing a mask," I muse, letting go of her hair and the thin strap. "Maybe you are evil, but right now, you're just too…" I smirk at her, amused by her astonished gaze. "Naïve."

She blinks, her eyes blank. "So you're saying that because I'm beautiful, that it makes me dangerous?" She arches an eyebrow.

I scoff. "So naïve," I mumble, then to her, I say, "Yes… You're beauty is lethal; you're a dangerous beauty, a beautiful disaster, a terrible angel!" I throw my hands up in the air, trying to get everything out in the open for her.

She steps back, startled by my anger.

"You can be "bad". You just haven't tried," I sneer at her.

She sniffs, sinking into my words, and without another glance at me, walks away, but not without saying one last thing to me.

"Why are you being so… helpful?" she asks, curious.

"You better leave, Goddess, or I won't be so nice… Besides, I have other things to attend to. However, you should leave before my 'comrades' decide to stop staring, and take action." I point to the Followers who are gazing hungrily at Vanessa. "And I won't stop them."

Quickly, she makes her way out of the club, and my mind melds with hers as thoughts of my previous words linger in her head. She understands what I have said, and it frightens and excites her.

'I am bad…'

This keeps replaying in her mind.

I snicker, again, amused by her naivety.

"Naïve Vanessa…"


He stares at me as if I am some child who doesn't understand the meaning of something simple. It irritates me and I'm sure he knows that; and that knowledge is what fuels his need to further annoy me.

I leave the club, eager to be away from the Followers and their disgusting stares.

"I am bad," I whisper again.

And somehow, I know he heard that…

"Stupid Tymmie…"