Xyla hated putting furniture together. She wasn’t good at it, didn’t have the patience for it, and frankly was just uninterested in building things. Life would be so much easier if things just came already assembled. At least if that was the case, she wouldn’t have had to beg Anders to come over and put together her new bed frame. “If we’re going to get through this, I need a drink. Do you want some win- I mean apple juice? I think I’ve got some in the fridge.”

@anderslarsson

Winnie walked into the bar, wearing one of her highest pair of heels so Anders wouldn’t tower over her, her eyes scanning the place as she looked for him. The place was a bit more crowded, more lively than she probably would’ve chosen, but it had been so long since she had seen Anders that she didn’t really care what she was agreeing to. She saw him near the corner of the bar, his head down - probably hiding from one of his fangirls, Winnie thought to herself with a bit of a wry smile, weaving through the crowd to get to him. “Hey you,” she called over the music when she got closer, her smile spreading as she gave him a hug. “It’s been too long,” Winnie added, leaning against the bar. “Your fan-club been keeping you too busy for me?” 

Rest of Beta: Well.. you don't have to.

Anders was pretty pumped for his bachelor party. He wasn’t a party guy, nor was he a regular at the surrounding strip clubs, but just like every guy about to get married, he was going to go out with a bang. It was the cliche bachelor party, thrown by his best man that he knew since he was old enough to walk and talk. Alcohol and strippers was the itinerary for the night and Ander’s couldn’t wait; it was probably the last time he’d be able to do something so audacious. 

Entering the strip club, it took no time for the guys to start ordering beers and shots all around. The good thing about the mass amounts of alcohol that was about to be consumed and the strippers that were about to dance was that Ander’s didn’t even have to pay a penny. 

They made their way to the center of the building and sat in front of the bigger stage, or as close as they could get with as packed as the place was.  Three girls were currently finishing up their routine so the next set could come on. The guys cheered them on, whistles and smiles all around while they finished. “I’ll be right back,” Anders stated as he noticed his beer was gone. 

“Full round, please” he nodded to the bartender once he reached the bar, turning around and leaning against the counter as he waited.

There was nothing that the people of Oz did better than party. No that wasn't true it was the people of the capital. Where the streets were paved in gold and they glutted themselves on the food grown in the fields of Munchkinland. The Wizard was no different, on the anniversary of his arrival in Oz he held a festival. It spanned the entire city, lasted a week or more at times. This one was no different, food and drink ran free and the people reveled. In the center of it was the royal palace. Only the most powerful, the most influential got in. Morgan lacked money, but she was powerful. Already surpassing her masters in strength, she was being fast tracked to be a state sorceress. Not that she anted to work like a dog for a Wizard she resented. 

She knew if she was there Anders was somewhere in the massive crowd. He was a prince, him and his brothers. Not that they held any interest for her, they seemed nice. She didn't need nice, she needed ambitious. With a sigh she drained her glass, shoving it into the hands of a passing server. The grand hall was the backbone of the palace, it was the main dining room and it ran the entire length of the building. Every inch of the ceiling was done in golden filigree, inlaid with precious stones. A remnant of the last king of Oz. A royal family who was rotting in the ground for many years now. Moving through the warm bodies that passed her, bowing, a polite mask on, moving toward the wall. She figured if she was going to find her friend it would be close to where they met once before. A corner. She craned her neck trying to spot the prince. Since this was technically a government function, Morgan dressed appropriate to her status. A fitted dress of dark blue almost black, touched with magic so it shone with thread of silver in the right light. As if spun from the night sky, not simple cotton. Black stockings above the knee and black shoes, tall enough to put her on eye level with most men in the kingdom, magicked to give her impeccable balance. She lamented that grace could not be bestowed by her magic though.