Domino - Black & White & Odd All Over [complete]

"A-tisket a-tasket,
A green and yellow basket.
I wrote a letter to my love
And on the way I dropped it."
With a rhyme in her head and a song in her heart, a little white pup spattered in black trotted through the meadow. She had no family to speak of and no path to follow. She was but 6 weeks old. How is this possible, you might ask, for such a young thing to brave the world alone? How did she survive without her mother's milk? If you were to ask the little fae herself, the strange youngling with one green eye and one blue, she would smile and tell you a riddle or perhaps just sing you a song.
You see, the answer to that simple question is really this: she survived bodily (if only just barely if her skeletal appearance is anything to judge by) but not mentally.
Rhymes and riddles are her speech now; songs and poems her thoughts. Her mind has found itself in a tangled web where up is down and down is up and front is back and back is front.
Nothing is what it seems.
That is all that this little whelp knows. The rest does not concern her. So as she scampers through the meadow, among the flowers colored red and blue and yellow, and among the grasses green, she sings a song to while away the time.
"I dropped it, I dropped it,
Yes, on the way I dropped it.
A little girlie picked it up
And took it to the market."
A strange smile stretches her black lips into a wide grin, and her tail twitches in time to her tinny sweet voice. She does not concern herself with where she is or where she is going. In truth, she does not know. No more than she knows the true identities of her birth parents, both of whom were brutally, grusomely murdered the day she was born.
It was rumored her mother was insane. So much so that they called her by three names. First was Mary, quite contrary; next was Typhoid, yellow passion fever; last was only screamed as her victims fell like flies: Mary, Bloody Mary. But that's why her daddy liked her mommy. They were mad together. Not mad as in "angry" (though sometimes they were angry, too) but mas as in "crazy."
After all, the filly's daddy was known as The Psychopath.
The Psychopath and Typhoid Mary. A match made in madness.
All things considered, it really is no wonder that when the little fae woke on her first day on Earth amid a massive pool of blood with the carcasses of both her parents on either side, something in her tiny head snapped. It was sharp and quick, like too much tension on a violin string, but it did far more damage than just causing a single member of an orchestra to play off-key. Because even if she would never admit it in plain-and-simple, straightforward words, the pup knew what had happened. She knew her parents had murdered one another. She just didn't feel the need to tell anyone about it. Nor did she feel the need to run to anyone for help. This was her world, she thought, and this was what happened in her world. Death and chaos were her bedfellows. Madness and lunacy her playmates.
But this strange little fae who calls herself Domino wouldn't have it any other way.
"A-tisket a-tasket,
She took my yellow basket.
And if she doesn't bring it back,
I think that I shall die!"
The little whelp shrilly cried out the last line, leaping from a boulder wedged amongst the green, green grass to the flowers below, crushing them with great stomps of her too-large paws. Giggling maniacally, she pistoned and kicked her feet, up and down, down and up, watching the pretty little flowers be ground into the dust. The effort of her play left her suddenly tired; she had not been this active in days. Malnutrition and exhaustion were finally taking their toll on her young body. Coughing hoarsely, the little fae turned her head left and right, right and left, looking through her two-toned eyes and listening with her large black ears for someone. Anyone. They could be a playmate, a Queen, a stud or a killer.
But what Domino wished most for was a mother. A home.
And a beginning all her own.