She doesn't care.

They could burn down the castle and she would laugh from high in her throat, the way that Riff likes.

She's built out of strange, and standing in the back corner waiting, and the rich rough growl of her accent when she murmurs to her brother. This is her alien world but she's risen up to meet the sloppy carnal desire here, the looseness of a human body.

Her face is a fake pale powder and her eyes crave the sing of skin, that's why she stays right through the whip and the slick loud mouths. She likes it, honest.

Magenta has one stiletto heel kicked up over the edge of the couch. The lacquer black gleams, its black edge cuts the sweet air like its namesake.

I want to leave, she tells her lover, who's crouched in the glittery muck of discarded garments on the ground before her. Magenta wants to leave more then anything. She can't tell whether her life on this planet real or not anymore (if it even matters), or how long she can wait for the birth of Frank's monster, it's unnerving and she's caring a little more then she should.

Magenta darling, he replies, his hair shines disgusting in the half –light, he's her monster to jealously adore. But he never answers because there's somebody at the door who becomes two rainy shuddering humans, they get swallowed into her prison of a castle. She ends up kind of liking them. They're something for her to watch.

She doesn't have to ask her brother again, and she gets her flashbang ending with lasers and smoke and her mouth done up bright red and crowing just like she needed.

Her brother knows her like the lines in his hands.