#mod:rose

She sniffed, “What, so I offended you? Sorry, your high -ass I can’t adhere to your bullshit leadership, we just don’t have that fucking budget.”

His eyebrow twitched,”Bullshit? My plans are always good.”

“Good?” she gasped, gritting her teeth, “Good? Did your daddy ever tell you that things cost money? For god sake, just let someone else fucking take over, it isn’t even your job--”

“My daddy- uh dad,” he cut her off, his face tight, “Trusted me to do this, you’re just a temporary treasurer, so who’s really too big for her britches?”

“Not this bitch,” she curtsy her dress, her gangly mess of legs swooping easily for once before she spun around. As an afterthought, she sharply added, “Bitch.”

Before she could walk away, she felt his cold hands clasp her shoulders, jolting her back. In an instant, she spun around, death grip, preventing from him to take his hand back as she dug her freshly manicured hands into his flesh.

“Excuse me?” she hissed, dropping the offending hand.

“You didn’t apologize.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” she scoffed.

He stepped forward, towering over her as usual, invading her space as usual. And as usual, she took the challenge, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. This dance wasn’t new, but it was exhausting.

“You’re just being rude,” he huffed, “You ripped her up and everything.”

“Wish I didn’t see how damn expensive the paper was,” she allowed herself to idly let her gaze linger on the blush trailing up the back of his neck. Oddly satisfying to see him crack. That fact alone should probably worry her, but it's not anything new either.

He cracked a grin, “Oh we’re making jokes now?

“Money is not a joke,” she crossed her arms, shifting her legs, “So get some new ideas or else I’m going to impeach your ass.”

He took another step, leaning down “Oh really now?” and she stiffened, taking a step back and bumping into the table, elbows saddling against it to support herself.

Her eyes flitted around his face, to the nose, cheekbones, everything but the eyes. Her face felt warm, in fact, her entire body felt warm...restricted...trapped. She didn’t dare move, as if waiting for him to just leave like he usually did-just walk away--just leave-

His neck craned down, breath fanning her face,  “So what if I propose a compromise?”

“N-Get the fuck out of my face,” she barked, not liking how small she felt. Despite her confidence, he was so much taller, she always felt so frail around him. He took it as a joke, he leaned in any way, he tried anyway-

If this had happened a few years ago, she would’ve been cried most definitely.

Now…

Her fist felt heavy, her fist was solid.

They had more of a presence then she had.

Their bulking knuckles, rough touch, and smatterings of scars that littered like white freckles across her skin always spoke more clearly than any insult, any curse, anything really.

. . . .

Freshman year, upon the discovery of an old email, Myra decided to shoot her pen-pal a message, like old times. 

She didn’t expect much from it, especially not her old crush on the girl to resurface and cause the grey blob on her hip to sting a bit more. 

Yasamin responded, not expecting much either. She only responds to squash any prior feelings of loneliness she had .

 Sure she’s used to it, but being in a new house, with new people, and mother thousands of miles away does make it a lot harder.

These four years of AP stress, poorly dealing with your feelings, friends being absolutely no help, poor driving skills, just being poor, a bitchy glitch that puts you on blast, hurricanes, loss, and whatever else vaguely southern, east- coast, pride having teens have to worry about.

Characters: ( Quotes from character’s chatroom to summarize them)

Myra: uhhhh rrreed goblins????

Yasamin:  Ignoring the personal attack, thank you

Charles:I prefer not to have “dickballswashere” scribbled all over my head while I sleep, and then sent to my catholic grandmother

Vanessa: yall dehydrated motherfuckers

-

Category: “Joint JustWrite”

Word Count: 25k ish

Gerald was bleeding out on the floor, whether or not he was alive still was debatable. I could feel a distant flow of energy from him, so perhaps he was still savable.

There was the teeny-tiny, minor issue of the killer still being there, however.

It was the doe instincts; Honey froze harshly, ears thew forward and her eyes wide.

Silken black hair, light medium skin, and a pair of golden eyes.

Danielle’s hooves ground into the concrete.

A pair of golden wings.

My throat went dry.

Eve.

“You came!” She cheered. “I was just finishing up.”

It was the doe instincts and many nights of madness; Honey charged.

A shining silver knife and a weeping smile carved delicately deep into a teenage fawn’s stomach.

“Why?” Was the word out of Honey’s mouth, the weeping red drizzling now from a twisted, mangled mouth.

“Why?” Eve laughed lightly, that lopsided smile. She gently held Honey’s jaw as the cervitaur’s legs collapsed under her, forcing the blonde to look up. “Because I never loved you.” She was so… condescending. Full of pity. Anger made me shake.

“I never loved you, Honey June Wincer. I wouldn’t have given you the time of day if it had not been for Illie. My Illie. I just wanted to make her jealous, maybe then she’d finally understand and ask me out. But, no, of course not. So maybe I wasn’t… protective enough? So I wanted to show her that I’d kill anyone who tried to hurt my lover! Then she’d see! She’d see-!” Eve started laughing, mid-sentence, sentence bouncing with the tone of perfect understanding. Like she’d finally cracked the code. The non-existent code.

Danielle had enough. She charged forward, more purpose and power in her hooves than Honey’s frantic gallops. I choked out a quick no as Eve opened her mouth and-

Sung.

Poetry, poetry, she was poetry, couldn’t you see?

Danielle collapsed over her legs.

Everyone knew, everyone saw, vying for the melody…

I fought back, struggling for my gun.

But she rejected every person to her, why? I answered.

Eve seemed surprised, shocked. Her song died in her throat. I was pure siren, Eve was not. She was susceptible to my song.

Because the person she loves, the person she cries,

I pulled the handgun free, unhooking the safety.

For they are blind.

And I fired.

i loved you, eve.

fin.

Of course, the moss had a different purpose for the real faes, a sponge in a sense, soaking up the excesses glow from the fluttering high-level faes and the dangerous amount of toxicity drip.

She stuck close to the walls, the soft, bark-like substance some comfort, but certainly not enough.

 She couldn’t find Grace anywhere, which was strange since even in a club full of fae, Grace had always kept the attention of everyone. Still, there weren’t many places for moth-brights to go, even with decent disguises us fakers had to stick to the ground, and some low-lying bar-lofts.

A rare breeze managed to get through the moss, a chill running up her spine, “Grace...where are you?” frowning, she unlocked her phone squinting, making sure the glow didn’t draw any eyes,[Oll-In]: where are you?

   [Oll-In]: grace for real, i’m getting worried read✓

Olla’s stomach turned, and she cut the phone off, as quickly as she turned it on, the stinging behind her eyes, growing, and she hugged her arms. While the Fae around her never touched her, the aura around them crackled. 

The lack of humanity, while not noticeable at first, the air was alive with something with big, something that could easily sweep you away into their world. 

It was what drew Olla to the faker life in the first place.

 But there was a reason Mothbrights traveled in pairs.

Without that anchor, a higher level fae could easily sweep someone away. The later it got, the heavier the air felt, the heavier her head felt, the more her eyes burned.

 What did her dealer even give her?

 Or was it the situation in general?

 The only other time they got separated, was their first day as “official” mothbrights, knee deep in glitter and naive assumptions. Funnily enough, it was also the day Grace met her fiance. 

She froze, her heart surged with panic.

She had never even met the man.

Sure it felt like she’d seen them, from the colorful swoonings from Grace, but overall the man was a mystery. She wasn’t even one hundred percent sure they were even a man.

 She wasn’t even sure if they were- No.

Shaking her head, she decided that at this point she might as well call the cops and face the judgments of being a faker.

 After-all it was her fault Grace was here alone. 

With a strange, unknown man to top it off. 

Her phone was strained between her hands, the air seemed to get even hotter, the more she thought about it. Her eyes burned, burned, and burned.

Wow, she was a great friend. Airheaded as usual, not even giving a seconds thought to her friend’s antics.  

Reaching for her phone, she froze as it buzzed. Opening it, however, hit her like a sack of bricks.

[BeGraced: hey sorry!!!]

[BeGraced: I had a MASSIVE headache earlier :((((]

Olla frowned, glancing around, [Oll-In: are you okay?] Grace always got headaches, but…

[BeGraced: AW don’t worry about ditzy ol me!!]

[BeGraced: just going home with some friends!!!]

Olla’s face fell, scowl firmly in place, [Olla: who are you?]

She took off her heels, tightened her loose top, and clutching at the button that would drop the dead weight that was her wings. 

If what she thinks is happening is actually happening, she is not dealing with it in heels.

[BeGraced: what???!?!?!]

[BeGraced: i AM grace!]

[Oll-In: sure.] she darted away from the main floor, climbing over lower decks, crawling under others. 

Her eyes, while in pain, still darted back every so often, as she got further away from the thick air and too keen eyes. She didn’t know what exactly led her here, most likely to get away, but from what she wasn’t exactly sure.

Here the moss was thinner, the stars peeking through, dusty spots amongst the toxic sky, without fear, Olla pulled her phone out completely.

[Be-Graced: i’m hurt]

[Oll-In: turn your location on then]

[Be-Graced: if you wanted to tag along you should’ve just said so!!!]

>location: 000921<

[Be-Graced: :D see you there, friend]

Entering the code into maps, her blood ran cold.

She whipped around, but before she could run, a  cold hand yanked her leg up. 

Her face crashed to the ground. 

Face now caked in mud, she screamed, willing the strength to claw at the ground, but soon it was out of reach. The attacker clasped at her other leg, easily lifting them from the ground, the beating of wings growing stronger.

“You faefuck!” she shrieked, as they carelessly flew higher, with her dangling uselessly like a bag behind.

The wind stung her face, her arms nearly ripping from the sockets. Her phone, fell to the ground, as she kicked, and jerked, her movements growing weaker as the blood rushed to her head. 

Below her, the club was a bright green, blur, the Spanish moss swinging, and equally as bright fae’s streaming in and out, as brisk as the wind.

“What..what do you want!” she slurred, her vision darkening

She could only get snippets of her attacker as if it would help since all fae’s looked the same, but they were a flutter of a disgusting puke green, the sheer toxicity causing her stomach to turn, and her eyes to burn.

Their wings, however, slowed, voice a whisper, “We want our queen.”

TBC