Zelda "Spades" Harpy

Zelda "Spades" Harpy

She was rotting inside, that much was clear. Still alive, but her soul was covered in black mold that smelled of beached fish. The poison in her blood coursed with a slowed heartbeat, like the obese crawl of molten lava. Her exterior matched the struggle of her spirit. Her blonde hair was fixed into poorly constructed dreadlocks that had become matted with time. It seemed at one point she had tried to undo them, perhaps during a moment of clarity and redemption. But clearly, the inspiration passed as soon as it was recognized. Her skin was a forever dirtied porcelain, and her teeth were the colors of pond scum. Swollen red dots were found in her inner right forearm, while deep slashes that varied in health and recovery covered her limbs from head to toe. Her right arm was the worst, for the self-harm was so extravagant that it seemed the limb was beginning to die off, with ripe patches of black skin beginning to take form. The large handprint tattoo that covered her shoulder appeared infected; it oozed a clear liquid that softened the hardened blood of the slashes found on her back. She was as skinny as a mangy street dog and walked with the timelessness of a corpse that had wandered from the afterlife back to Earth. Her aura smelled of ganja and soil. She was sick-looking: vile and dangerous. But despite the tragedy of her body, and the devastation of her mind, the wise people who looked at her saw a glimpse of a being trapped by the evil of a cruel, hateful world. She knew it too. She hated herself with every fiber of her creation. She was consumed by shadows but longed for the sunshine more than her physical form could comprehend.