A/N: Originally posted on AO3 on June 10 2018

Little vandal, little beast, the Maw will punish you at the feast.

Once, it was very simple. To merely escape this place and try to find home, wherever that would be, with only a sweet song to guide her. Perhaps the source of this comfort never existed.

Hunger in this place taught her something; take what was in front of you. Kindness would be undoing.

But hunger was too broad a term to blame for this injustice. Fault was found within selfish adults, ones that consumed until their flesh was rotted with the smell of grease and sweat. She would make them bleed like the stuck pigs that they were. Only the innocent adults would be spared.

The adults that skulked in these halls were not innocent. She made sure that the chefs boiled in their own pots, their horrendous screaming finally ceasing. If the janitor was still alive she would make sure that he felt worse pain than his arms being cleaved off.

She regarded the nomes that cautiously followed her; perhaps unaware that she had consumed one of their own. That was regret, blood that was bitter on her tongue. But the children of this world were not safe with gluttonous adults. She would transform all of the children of the world into this, so that nothing would bring them harm. They would be unappetizing and unappealing.

These were her rules. There would finally be order in this chaotic world.