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fayeĀ feelsĀ restlessĀ āāĀ theĀ galaĀ isĀ tooĀ organised,Ā tooĀ politeĀ andĀ thereĀ isĀ nothingĀ toĀ doĀ otherĀ thanĀ drinkĀ fromĀ flutesĀ andĀ haveĀ emptyĀ headedĀ conversationsĀ withĀ peopleĀ sheĀ couldn'tĀ giveĀ lessĀ ofĀ aĀ damnĀ about.Ā andĀ then,Ā itĀ isĀ asĀ ifĀ theĀ universeĀ hearsĀ theirĀ plea.
hazelĀ eyesĀ spotĀ theĀ perfectĀ entertainment.Ā withoutĀ hesitation,Ā fayeĀ makesĀ herĀ moveĀ andĀ promptlyĀ bitesĀ intoĀ theĀ onlyĀ evidenceĀ ofĀ herĀ crimeĀ againstĀ theĀ codeĀ ofĀ anyĀ gala.
"yesĀ itĀ was."Ā fayeĀ speaksĀ asĀ sheĀ chews,Ā makingĀ itĀ moreĀ dramaticĀ thanĀ itĀ oughtĀ toĀ be.Ā mischievousĀ eyesĀ areĀ gluedĀ toĀ herĀ victim,Ā feedingĀ offĀ ofĀ hisĀ reaction.Ā "andĀ itĀ tastesĀ amazing.Ā thankĀ youĀ forĀ holdingĀ ontoĀ itĀ forĀ me."
closed starter for @einchants, snack table at the gala
puck haunt the sweets table, eating his fill of little delicacies. if there's one thing they love more than mischief, it is not having to choose between affording a glamour or imbibing in a sweet treat (or five).
after contemplating their choice carefully, they pluck another pastry from the table, turning to enjoy. then, a crime is committed: it is taken right out of their eager hands.
"hey!" by the time he makes a move to defend his own honor, the thief has taken a bite. puck can do nothing but watch in abject horror. where's the sheriff when you need him? where are the witnesses? "... that was the last fig tart."
