Two Faces are Better then One (Basilisks vs. Doppelgänger)

She waits in the fog like she breathes it, a dragon with needle sharp teeth in her mouth and blades for claws clutched tight in her hands. Oh father thou art in the science labs a hundred miles from here, is this what you planned for me to be? She stands feet shoulder-width apart and wathes and watches, hungry and never full. Her limbs are light and heavy and life is inside of her but it is not and she has never wondered so very much.

The fog is wet on her and it irritates but she does not understand why. She wants to. Was she meant to have sentient thought, she wonders idly in the fog. Perhaps her father's imperfect human mind had designed her incorrectly and it had resulted in the perfect perfection that she was.

Things moved in the swirling mists and the Imp who was stolen danced among them, watching as one tribute attacked another. Her human piece, a cracked mirror to her superior beauty received a hit meant for her and she whimpered, "Olivia, I'm scared," and she clutched her throwing knives in her hands. "Olivia, why are there two of you?" she said,voice meddled with pretend.

She bared her teeth beneath a raised hand and threw her first shining star at the bag of meat and bones that bared an ugly, incorrect version of her partner in this.

They were ugly little things really, the tributes that ran the grounds here, tails between their legs and so much blood on their hands. She would have licked the fog to dissipate so she could watch her prey scurry around like headless little chickens before her but she could settle for watching her partner, her stolen imp stalk through the swirling mists, a grin so wicked and sharp on her face that it could burn cities and wound even the fiercest and bravest of them all.

She was a wraith herself and held her spear aloft above her head, fixing a concerned expression on her cheeks, burning the sun behind her eyes so that the world might consider her human and therefore something to root for. She understood the pain in her father's eyes when he had placed her hands on the weapons. You are a thing of beauty my little wraith, I am sad to see you go. Perhaps she would return to him, she and her stolen Imp, the return of his prodigal daughters.

"Olivia, I'm scared!" said her gorgeous stolen imp and she let out a soft cry of humanity in response. "Olivia why are there two of you?"

"I don't know, Imp" she called back through the fog enjoying the confusion on the mortal's faces. "Don't let them touch you!, You have to fight!"