@1stltrusso & tinkerbell / starter call ( no longer accepting )
𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦. tinkerbell remembers it vaguely : there was honey made by bees born at midnight during full moon, magic seeping through her skin and morning dew washing it off — then drying it in the morning sun and then grinding it into powder... yeah, something like that.
she looks at billy and cocks her head to the side. there's little to no magic or sparkle in the see through ziplock bag she extends his way.
❝ you can try it. then we'll distribute, ❞ she says with the tone of a businesswoman whilst looking like an exhausted mother of more than a dozen orphans. which she, precisely, is. ❝ seventy - thirty. ❞
the glimmer in her eye is not one of excitement caused by possibility of a deal sealed. it's tears.
desperate, at loss of options, with her wings torn off her back and her magic gone, what can a mother do if not protect her kids by any means necessary — even if she has to become a drug supplier?
