She was always alone by her own making, by her parents designs on her life, by a past mistake. The one person who ever saw as she was, she fell out with by an incident then by death. A death she caused and blames herself for. A death that landed her someplace no human should be. A place lorded over by someone who could only be described as inhuman. He holds her as a doll, a simple plaything to do as he pleases. Something disposable and delicate. She should be long dead, but he cannot bring himself to kill her not when she intrigues him so much despite how much she irritates him. This strange, distempered, little human he cannot bring himself to even give her a name. How can two beings- one who hates the other but herself even more; one who loves himself too greatly to care for another and finds her absolutely appetizing- not destroy each other and anything that is unfortunate enough to become caught in the touch of their storm?