she hums,
gracefully weaving,
effortlessly sewing.

scarlet hair cascades up to her back.
her lazy, brown eyes--sharp.
she's wearing a crimson dress
with horrible frills
and stuffy fabric.

she dances across the room,
and sings sinfully.

she inserts the red thread of fate
into the eye of the needle.
she knots it,
and sews.

she laughs,
as she hears shrieks.
a beautiful instrumental to her humming!

("What wonderful instruments you are.")

she mournfully shakes her head,
seeing looks of disdain and horror
directed at her.

her girls needed to look their best after all--
she even made the effort to help them too.
how ungrateful!

(sew their mouths shut.
she does just that.)

she bursts into a gleeful chorus.

(before their consciousness faded away,
they curse the inescapable thread
that caught them
and entangled them with the countess.)