With one last swipe of my darkest mascara, I smile at myself in the full body mirror I had propped up against the wall of my bedroom. It was a cheap, unflattering glass that I half suspect is plastic more than anything. I take a breath and survey the work of art before me. I'd chosen a form fitting black shirt that tapered down into a very wide and frilly black skirt, it looked like the offspring of a gothic tutu and a cheerleader. This was of course followed by slightly torn up black stockings and a pair of black slip on shoes that looked like more of an afterthought than a part of the get up. Now, back up to the tippy top I go, because oh my sweet baby Jesus the wig I found is without doubt, the best part of everything. It's a flowy, silk wig that is probably the most brilliant cotton candy pink I have ever laid my eyes on. Well, to finish the design I turned to the side and giggled slightly in delight at the two bright blue wings I had strapped to my back. Yes....I was going to go to the party as a fairy, because fairies are the shit. I wondered if I might offend some of the winged little guys, if I so happened to run into any at the party that is, but they'll just have to deal.


Brushing the sparkles off my hand and onto the black shirt (they kept falling off from the wings), I grabbed my cell phone and stuffed it into my bra before heading out the door. Just outside was a yellow taxi, a sign that yes, I did plan to get drunk tonight. It wasn't that long drive, thankfully. I hated sitting in a cab. It was awkward, and I felt obligated to chat to the driver, who generally seemed annoyed at my awkwardness. Either way, what's done is done. I paid the driver and gave him a little wave as he drove off, you know...the dorky kind where you just wiggle your fingers up and down. Ya, that one. Now to the get the fun stuff, I could smell the sweet fragrance of food already, mingled with the smell of alcohol, and face paint. I could feel the excitement build almost instantly, I freaking love parties. The place looked absolutely stunning, the decorations were great, and I could already tell plenty of people had a way more active imagination than I did. I passed by an eager looking Zombie, who actually made me cringe a little cause the sight of all the fake blood made my stomach turn. So I casually avoided him and spied the bar. It seemed, naturally, to be a hub for everyone. Already I could see some kind of masked dude who reminded me of that V for Vendetta guy, but...not. And a woman who was rather striking in a gothic outfit of sorts. Yes, I honestly have no idea who these people are, I was never a TV/Movie watching kid, obviously. At least there was one person I could get, a woman dressed as a Pirate. See, someone who doesn't make me think to hard. Already deciding I was going ot go be obnoxious and introduce myself, I decide I aought to get something yummy first.


So, with that I head straight to the food. Snag myself a nice plate and once I'm done I have a nice little brownie and a piece of pie. Cause I'm a junk food junkie. Standing there with a mouth full of pie, I watch the Pirate at the table, she seemed rather distressed by the drink, her face telling all. I smirked to myself and decided now was the time to approach, though the closer I got, the more my hairs stood up on my arms. I could feel the magic coming off her, it tickled a little, like static or something. This was a sort of personal warning, so I didn't go blowing things up and being my typical disaster self, god knows what kind of power she has. Walking behind her, I scooted up on the stool next to her and put my plate of food down. Swallowing my mouthful of cherry pie, I waved towards the bartender. (Again...that finger wiggle thing, ugh) When he walks over, I order a bloody mary and then stretch my arms out in front of me, fold them, and rest my head down, facing the Pirate. "Capt'n doesn't seem to be holding 'er liquer well, arrr ya?" Why did I even speak? I internally cringe at the failure to be anything but dorky, but the damage is done, so I blink my large blue eyes up at her and just smile, hoping she has a sense of humor and doesn't just abandon ship.

OLEANDER TREMAYNE
Witch | Power Imitation | 25 Years Old

Lyrics by LP "Night Like This", character by fayrii, html by nook <3