I came by mail. [closed]

And here she was, in a box. It hadn’t been the finest idea the danava had ever had, but desperate times called for desperate measures. After listening to the mail-man for the better part of a week, it was getting.. Tedious. If she had to listen to the mail-man flirt one god damned more time with the “nice ladies” enroute, she was going to shoot herself. Eventually though, the mail-man knocked at a door, and waited for someone to answer the door as it was marked “signature on arrival, as well as fragile”.

For blackheart, it wasn’t being trapped in a females body that had been the worst thing, it had been waking up, in a place she hadn’t wanted to be, with no means of communication other than garbled, utterances of a child. How many days had she simply wished to drown in the ocean outside, simply due to that frustration. After 8,000 years, blackheart could honestly say she’d never had been born a baby, nor interacted with them, the incessantly squalling, pooping things that they were.

It was dark in the box, blackhearts emerald green eyes staring up at the slight white light that filtered in dimly from the clear packing tape that bound the box closed. There were vague noises, like birds chirping and dogs barking. It was hot and stuffy, the temperature in the medium sized box enough to kill a normal child, and certainly enough to make blackheart, in her current state, sweat. She wished the box would be open soon, as it honestly sucked being stucked within the cardboard confines.

The second time the mail-man knocked, it was clear they were getting impatient. While it was early morning, the man, balding and rotund as he was, had a long, annoying route to finish, and having already been held up as long as he was, he certainly wished to be relieved of his package soon.

”Package miss, package directed to Haydens wife, Abalia. I have the right address right?”

The mail courier finally spoke in a moderately loud tone, knocking a few more times as he looked at the holographic time-face that said 0530. He was behind schedule, and hoped someone would pick this god-damned package up soon.