They are with two, come in pairs. The puppeteer and the stubborn puppet. He, enormous, retreated, makes no sound in his step. She, small, arrogant, has her head raised like she is the queen of the world.
She wears a fake halo above her head. Dubbed herself goddess. He has his head hung low, burden too much to carry.

Though, she, unlike him, is very much made of flesh.

Her face made of solid ice. Red liquid drops from her fingertips after cutting off part of her insides.
It glows in her hand. Within her ripped open abdomen, more lights glow.



She stops her pace in front of the two mothers. The big shadow looming over her shoulder.



She has to lift the glowing ball pretty high to reach the gentle mother’s crown. She also carried the little lights, but out in the open. They rested, danced on top of her tines. They belonged there.
The white father behind the goddess, stared at the pale faced mother second to the gentle one. This could very well be a warning without a threat. He, like her, kept a balance.
It was to be kept, his eyes said.



The Pale faced mother hardly moved, all her pent emotions held at bay whilst the gentle lowered her crown. They were the duality and the extremity.





Said the fake goddess.



The Gentle mother corrected her posture as the glyph became settled on her tines. The starry child quivered nervously, as if reluctant to leave the goddess. The other children that had rested on her tines began to flicker and dance around Sterre to welcome her. The pale faced beast watched on as Sterre began to glow brighter.