𝗙𝗔𝗬𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗢𝗪𝗘 ⸻ Event: Remembrance Part Two - Blog Posts

fingers  tap  on  the  bar  top,  the  faerie's  head  tilting  to  the  side  as  she  watches  one  dorothy  gale  spin  one  too  many  times.  boredom  has  no  true  cure,  not  for  someone  like  faye  ━━  it  is  only  dormant,  waiting  to  come  back  when  her  latest  entertainment  loses  it's  novelty.  pudding  &  pie  helps  little  but  it  is  better  than  being  surrounded  by  nothing  and  no  one.  and  who  knows?  perhaps  the  opportunity  to  amuse  herself  (  and  perhaps  make  someone  else's  day  less  than  ideal  )  will  come  on  a  silver  platter.

and  it  did.

hazel  eyes  focus  on  the  fable,  narrowed  in  both  wander  and  annoyance.  faye  could  not  give  less  of  a  damn  about  the  dead  witch  ━━  they  barely  give  a  damn  about  people  whose  name  they  do  not  forget  on  a  daily  basis  ━━  but  there  is  something  dense  about  such  a  celebration,  not  because  dorothy  is  only  a  few  steps  away  from  dancing  on  the  witch's  grave,  no  ━━  who  is  to  say  being  a  witch  is  why...  whoever  her  name  is,  is  dead?

faye  smirks,  though  it  does  not  quite  reach  her  eyes.  "ding  dong  the  witch  is  dead,  yeah?"  a  scoff,  a  sip  on  her  drink.  furrowed  eyebrows  paint  themselves  on  faye's  expression  ━━  a  part  to  play,  a  reaction  that  is  planned  more  than  genuine.  "ever  think  that  maybe  there  is  a  possibility  it  wasn't  because  she's  a  witch?  you  could  be  the  next  victim  for  all  we  know.  and  i  don't  know  about  you  but  i  like  being  alive."

" I DON'T KNOW WHAT EVERYONE IS SO FUSSY ABOUT , " dorothy voiced , but the words were spoken between shallow and bitter breaths , having just teetered off the stage from a particularly grim performance ( the town's happenings had left little room for pallet - soothing whimsy , but perhaps her audience could have done without her celebratory merriment about the witch's fate ) . taking the scarlet fingertip of a stain glove between her teeth , dorothy tugged the costume piece off her tawny limb before discarding it behind her on the bar top .

" ─── anyone in their right state of mind would be relieved . feel , , , safer . " it were almost as if dorothy were self soothing ( as she was one to talk about what defined a right state of mind ) , shifting her bite to show her opposing glove the same attentions she had gifted the first . then , swirling on the stool so she was facing bar side , dorothy collected her thick , loose hair and pulled it over her shoulder , beginning to anxiously thread it into a loose plait , only to run her fingers through it and start over .

over . and over . and over again .

her eyes find the occupant of the seat next to her , eyes like that of a sleepy pup's as painted lashes framed droopy lids . she was so tired , their features blurring , a yawn burning her throat that she didn't let surface .

" i think we should give whoever did it a proper thanking . "

a 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 for 𝘋𝘖𝘙𝘖𝘛𝘏𝘠 𝘎𝘈𝘓𝘌 set at 𝐩𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 & 𝐩𝐢𝐞 the eve the news broke of the murder . ( @detr1tus , @gravemist , @lcgendaries , @einchants , @daydreambeliiever , @unyearning / @unforsworn )