Gala of Mysteries Fall Ball

Open to interactions!

hex: #173518

Wyatt had gone back and forth on whether he was to go to the ball or not. There were pros and cons. Cons, he was going to go without a date, and he was sort of tired from the broom race. He had just enough time to shower and put on a suit after the match, but still enough to make it. Pros, he hadn’t gone to a ball in a while, and was starting to get more tired of missing out than he was exhausted by the race. Ultimately, he’d decided to go. Even if he was alone, even if he had no plans to dance. There was that murder mystery later he was interested in. If nothing else, he was here to buy time before that started.

Scanning the ballroom for familiar faces, his eyes caught on the posters lining the walls. Some collaged together, others on their own, but most sporting some sort of red ink graffiti on them. Wyatt wondered if he should be taking notes, if these posters were part of the mystery. There certainly was an air of intrigue to the Great Hall tonight, a mist having settled on the floor. Wyatt briefly spared a thought for those who carefully considered what shoes to wear this evening just for them to be hidden by the magical fog.

As if he magnetically gravitated toward the posters, Wyatt blinked and found himself halfway there. A few more steps and he was standing right before one, crossing his arms and taking a good look at the thing. It was probably just a random decoration, but the graffiti wasn’t a typical part of the aesthetic the ball was going for. Even if they didn’t mean anything, it was still something to look at.

Wyatt clasped his hands behind his back, looking up at the poster, trying to read the print hidden under bold red ink. He thought it was as good a way as any to kill time. He looked around, remembering his initial task of finding anyone familiar. There were a few faces known to him: Matt Pride, his… ex roommate? They never spoke but even among all the weirdos in the Snape dorm, he stood out as odd. A strange, strange boy. The Demarest kid from the courtyard a few weeks back was also present. Wyatt turned his head to look at the other side of the room, not wanting to make eye contact with the Gryffindor. No one else stuck out to him in the crowd, yet. It was only a matter of time. Someone would cause a scene soon.

His focus returned to the poster. It was starting to get dull. He moved to another. Then, a distraction. Commotion, murmurs, both hesitant and excited claps, and Matt Pride on one knee. A strange, strange boy he continued to be. Wyatt looked on for a moment, catching the slightest bit of a shift in energy from the bride to be. Anxious? Nervous? Excited? But it was gone in a second, and Wyatt didn’t know the girl or the situation enough to think about it any further. He sighed, and, allowing his hands to find his pockets, once again eyed the poster.

Action(s): Entering, but it's mostly staring at the wall

Abilities: Parselmouth, prodigal DADA, fearless
Stats: Sta: 12 | Eva: 12 | Str: 4 | Wis: 9 | Arc: 9 | Acc: 10

Mentioning: n/a
Interacting: n/a

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Mentions: @Sanguinius Demarest
open for interaction if someone has a genius idea

English | thoughts	Date: 16/10/2024
Outfit: Reducio	OOC Notes: Reducio Abilities: Sixth Sense code made by 𝑅𝑒𝓎&𝐿𝒾'𝓈 𝑅𝑒𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀𝒶𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈

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While she was apologising, Elena's eyes narrowed as she heard the person she had hit hissing under his breath. She couldn't make out all of the words for it was barely above a whisper, but the venom dripping from the words had made their intention clear. Okay, agressive much. Frowning, she tilted her chin, composed and ready to face whatever was coming. To her great surprise, the boy's face softened when he looked at her. Previously ready to reduce to dust whoever had dared to disrupt him, he now looked intrigued, looking at her. Confused by this sudden attitude change, Elena raised an defiant eyebrow, daring him to say anything. He looked rather charming, she had to admit. His leather coat fell perfectly on a dark suit, and the look was completed by a dark red scarf elegantly resting on his shoulder. With his golden locks and light eyes, the only thing Elena could think about was the sun personified. He gave off a overwhelming confidence, and looked like he took nothing too seriously. Arrogant was the word that came to her mind. But she was still intrigued, for she new very well that people seemingly so sure of themselves hid behind a mask. She wondered what lied behind that boy's mask. When looking through his eyes, she only saw a violent thirst, an angry desire. A desire to live, to suffer, a desire hurt anyone who would get in his way. An ache for what he couldn't have, and hunger to rip that away from those who'd hide it. Surprised by this thirst for blood lying in his eyes, she took an imperceptible step back. Who was he ? And why was she so compelled by him ? His voice started her, as she was still lost in her thoughts. Opening her mouth to answer, something tingled her at the edge of her memory. She lost track of the rest of his sentence, only catching back when he complimented her. A soft smile cracked, and she slightly bowed, graciously nodding. "Why, thank you," she responded. After a brief hesitation, she returned the flattery. "It appears we're matching today. Red suits you too." Euphemism, given by how his golden jewelry made him look as if Apollo himself graced him, but he looked arrogant enough like that. A second passed, before she shook her head. "I'm sorry, but have we met before ?" she asked, confusion obvious in her voice. He looked so foreign, yet he sounded so familiar. "Perhaps in a class ?" It could only be that. She couldn't put the finger on what was tickling her memory, couldn't grasp it. Wooshing the thoughts away, she presented him one of her hands, with the intention to shake his. Her silver rings were shining in the candlelight, the lepidolite reflecting a hundred different colours while the moonstone caught them all in her pearly, white way. "I'm Elena. Elena Clark." she introduced herself with a smile. "I'm a Ravenclaw, from Howgarts." She knew her accent would give her away but the distinction sounded important, given by how many foreign students were in this ball. Examining him, she tried desperately to recall where she's seen him before. It couldn't be that hard. Classroom ? He looked like the type to make himself notice, so no. Diagon Alley perhaps ? No. Didn't felt right. She would have remembered him. It was something else. And she had a weird feeling about it. His presence radiated a kind of intensity that pulled her in, but it was like looking through a storm. Or rather, looking right at the sun. Not able to look away until tears strain your cheeks, until it consumes you. Beauty and fear, both strangely mixed and hidden under that boy's façade. "So," she said after a few seconds, looking around. "What could be the goal of a young lad who looks like he just stepped out of a vampire gothic novel ? Here to steal hearts ?" She glanced at the bloodied cakes lingering on the tables, a faint chuckle escaping her lips - meaning by that steal and drink them, like a vampire would do. "Should I be worried ? Playing with tip of her glass, she took a sip before lowering it again.

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Word Count: 713/200
Stats: Sta 6 / Ev 7 / Str 4 / Wis 6 / Arc 6 / Acc 6
Action : n/a

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@Xiomara Torres

Aamon watched Xiomara with quiet amusement as she darted around, her camera clicking away, capturing the details of the evening with an excitement that was contagious. She moved with so much energy, so much life, it was hard not to get swept up in her joy. But beneath his smile, a heavier thought lingered in the back of his mind—a thought he couldn’t shake, no matter how much he wanted to just enjoy the moment.

He would catch sight of his brother out of the corner of his eye and would wisely choose to avoid him. He was not supposed to talk to his elder brother and in truth he did not want to speak with any of his brothers if he could help it. He found them obnoxious and cruel and the evidence he had been given here in Hogwarts only supported that presumption. His stomach would flip however when he saw the pink lady, not wearing pink this time. The poor dear was all he could think before he looked the other way. He saw the bulge in Pride's pocket and knew what was coming next and what would then come thereafter.

He was not going to be able to change that. All he could do was live his life somewhere adjacent, ideally minimally effected. He would turn to his pleasant evening, Xiomarra. Her bright enthusiasm, her innocence—it all reminded him of someone. The pink lady. A chill ran down his spine as he considered the fact that this was in a way history repeating itself. He was terrified of the prospect that one day looking at Mathias would be like looking into a mirror.

Aamon couldn’t see his future yet in vivid detail, not the way others could see what would be, but the fear was there. The weight of something dark, lurking at the edges of his path and the certainty that his kin was keeping something terrible from him. He feared that, despite his intentions, Xiomarra's end would be... tragic. There were patterns in lives, in people’s stories, that he had seen too many times before in his own family. The kind that didn’t end well.

As Xiomara grinned and pulled him toward the food table, her hand warm in his, he tried to push the terrible thoughts aside. Tonight wasn’t about the future, or about tragic endings—it was about now he decided. Kit had made an impact on the pre-teen even if he was not willing to admit it. And yet, as Xiomara turned her camera toward him again, her laughter filling the air, Aamon couldn’t help but glance away, just for a moment, the weight of it all pressing down on him before he forced a similarly wide smile. Another lie, but such a minor one he told himself. Minor lies were fine weren't they? Some lies can make people happy. Make them worry less. Give them hope when there is none.

She posed for a picture, all smiles, but in the back of his mind, he wondered how much longer this would last. He could ask what tapestry was being wovenm and what was already determined and what could change. Perhaps he should. No, tomorrow is another day and today is for living.

With a deep breath, he focused on the present, forcing a smile as Xiomara suggested they take a photo together. "Yeah, let’s do it," he said, adjusting the camera to capture the two of them. Her joy, her light—it was something worth holding onto, even if only for a little while longer.

She would need to take a few pictures because he made a few funny faces, was blinking in another, and somehow sneezed at the perfect moment in yet another. "Please don't keep that one," he begged.

She enjoyed the food, seemingly having a penchant for sweets, something he would have to take note of. He never agreed to stop showering her with gifts. He would absentmindedly dig into his pocket and pull a dried apricot and cashew bar from his pocket and start munching while she tried to fill what he was pretty sure was an endless void. Where is she putting it all? She was so small, he took a step to the side and cocked his head as if attempting to see a hidden pouch or something, like a chipmunk or a squirrel.

OC: As for doing one of the other activities. Your call, he will follow.

Trunk

Winnie’s forced smile was unraveling, and the cracks in her mask revealed the tremor beneath her calm. But that was fine. Let her tremble. She always looked so pretty when she tried to hide her fear—eyes wide, lips trembling. It was almost endearing how much she still believed she had a choice.

It was almost cute when she tried to intimidate him.

"We can go back to the old times, Matt. So long as you stay away from my friends. But if you so much as think about harming a single hair on their head, I will destroy myself and drag you to hell with me."

"You won't," he replied without skipping a beat. As if he was somehow challenging her with his nonchalance over his admission, her ire and what he was about to do next.

As Mathias knelt before her, the weight of the ring heavy in his palm, he could practically feel the room pause around us. All eyes on her. On me. Exactly as it should be. He smiled a bit, knowing he was giving not just Hogwarts but the young international wizarding community a show.

The marriage proposal clear, Winnie Harper, will you marry me? The words rolled off his tongue like a script he had been rehearsing for years, but the truth was, this wasn’t about just love. Even if there was for a time some sort of emotion tangled into the mess that was their toxic relationship. There was something that drew him to her, like a moth to a flame. A strange infatuation turned yearning then want and ultimately frustration. she had become so much less than she was and he resented her for that. He didn’t need some grand romance he resolved. He needed her—or someone like her he convinced himself. Malleable. Sweet. So simple, with all that muggle blood running through her veins, making her easier to control. He needed her to play the part. His part.

And what a good little actress she was, even if her performance was cracking under the pressure. The fairy tales she adored had woven themselves into her life so seamlessly. He knew exactly how to make her believe this was her “happily ever after”—the prince kneeling before his princess, offering her a ring that sparkled like the promises whispered in those bedtime stories. She was always waiting for her prince to come.

Except Mathias wasn’t her prince. The Slytherin was something much worse and he made sure she was aware of that fact.

"Of course, Mattie. How can I say no?" she had said.

Her voice barely squeaked out her acceptance, her “yes” barely audible. But he heard it. That small, broken consent. It was all he needed. Pride rose to his feet and slipped the ring onto her trembling finger, feeling the weight of her resignation. The ring glinted under the chandelier light, mocking her, binding her.

He could see it in her eyes, though—the fleeting panic, the way she scanned the room for someone to save her. Foolish girl. She knew, deep down, that no one would and even if they could, they had no idea what they were tangling with. A millennia of intention to his back, a lifetime of refinement and a future that he could control. No one would dare. And if they did, they would be playing into his hand. Her friends were already a distant threat. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

He leaned in slightly, just enough so she could hear his voice over the buzz of whispers in the ball. His breath grazed her ear, a faint echo of what she feared most.

“Don’t worry, princess,” I whispered, my voice dripping with sick sweetness. “You’ve found your prince. You’re mine now.”
His lips would brush her cheek, if it was not so insidious it might be seen by a third party as something sweet said between lovers.

He could feel the pulse of her fear, her worry, as if it were a tangible thing between the pair. He knew she could feel it too—the threads tightening, weaving around her, pulling her deeper into the web he had spun for her. She was trapped, and no matter how much she pretended to smile, she knew it. He could see the resignation sinking into her bones.

She was so tragic, really. Her fate sealed long before she ever said "yes." The idea of it almost amused him. How long had I been waiting for this? For her to realize that no matter how hard she tried, she was mine. How many times they had been through this before she was sufficiently subdued. Her bothersome sibling gone to who knows where. Her other friends, jealous and alienating rather than worried. She had few left that she even needed to sacrifice herself to protect. She’d never escape, not while he was pulling the strings. He had watched her, studied her, even if he pretended to be so very indifferent. He knew her every dream, every fear, and now, they were all his to mold.

The world could look on and see a proposal—something sweet, romantic even—but she and Pride both knew what this really was. It wasn’t love. It was control. And she, in her fragile state, had no choice but to accept it.

He caught her eyes again, still locked in their silent plea for help that would not come. p“You’ll make a beautiful bride, Winnie,” he said, his voice low, almost tender. “I’ve always known you would.”

But behind the words, there was something darker. He knew what lay ahead for her. what this moment would ignite and the domino of choices she would most likely make as she attempted to escape his web. Her ending wouldn’t be the fairy tale she had hoped for. No happy endings for girls like her. Not when they’d crossed paths with someone like Mathias Pride.

Students were flooding in by the second, most smittenly whisking away with their dates. It was cute, she supposed. Not her thing, but cute. Dodging past a pair of starry eyed dancers, Delaney avoided the incoming flurry of dresses and suits. Soon enough her pace slowed, scanning the room for a proper place to settle. While everyone else seemed determined to pair off and leap onto the dance floor, it left her free to find a spot where she could observe the chaos— preferably without getting tangled up in it.

Her eyes caught sight of an empty seat close enough, tucked a bit out of the way but with a decent view of everything. The black haired girl nearby didn’t seem to be in the middle of any romantic whirlwind either, which suited Delaney just fine. Less small talk about how dreamy so-and-so was, more room for breathing. Slipping herself adjacent, an introduction was ready to escape before something, much more entertaining, caught everyone's attention.

Watching as an older boy dropped to one knee, it was only obvious where this was going.

"Is he serious?" Better question. Was she? Watching as the rosy pink girl accepted his proposal, Delaney gawked so wide you'd think she'd catch flies. No way, the two of them couldn't have been more than sixteen. "My mom would throw me to the kelpies if I brought home so much as a boyfriend." Granted, she was only eleven. How were five years any different, though? Her seventeen year old brother couldn't even remember to brush his teeth in the morning most days. Maybe those two were more mature. Doubt it, but maybe.

Date: October 19 Word Count: 302/200 Action: Bumping into Basil and Meyra

Mentions: Reducio @Tesla Stone, @Meyra Lancaster, and @Elisa Wagner

English: #00b899 Spanish: #009919 French: #e69f3d Thoughts: Italics

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If the terror of arriving hadn't been enough, she had decided to go to the ball. Perhaps she was just stupid. Or perhaps she enjoyed the thrill of almost dying. Whatever the reason, she had come. People were already there, a lot of them. And she thought the pyre was big. How on earth would she find one person in all of this. Clément Cantegrel was her date, and she had no clue where to find him. "Clément! Where are you!" She half shouted, mostly to herself, but partially hoping he would hear her. Where is that boy? I want to have some fun with him. Her gruff encounter with him on the streets would be nothing like now, where she could have fun with him while dancing and finding mysteries. Save adventures might bring her confidence back up. But for now, she was quite scarred and scared. Hopefully one boy could save that. Not that she liked him or anything. He just seemed nice and she wanted to have a friend with her with her first ever ball. Or anything social really. Living in a farmhouse did that to you. Lucy closed her eyes, trying to block out the noise and tight feeling of being with a lot of people. But when she closed her eyes, she saw the flames, the explosion, the terror. The people. A carriage exploded and the flames flickered, snickering. The darkness fell like terrifying shadows, and the light only brought people staring with scared eyes. Everything was- And with that, she yanked her mind out of her memories, and took a few slow deep breaths, while opening her eyes. She closed her eyes again, this time with no horrifying memories. Her feet wandered, and she felt herself bump into a few people. She fell backwards a little, and opened her eyes. Basil, a boy who had helped her during the pyre, and a girl she didn't know were people she had bumped into. Why is it that I always meet people by bumping into them? Perhaps she would need to close her eyes less. To Basil, she tried to add humor to the situation. "I guess you always meet me on the ground, huh?" Even to her, that sounded lame. She needed to find her date and get out of the crowded room quickly. Before any other embarrassing things happened.

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Stats:
stamina 5 | evasion 6 | strength 7
wisdom 7 | arc power 5 | accuracy 5
Ability: Werewolf

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Coding by @Estelle Nyx

A mischievous red fox seemed to be on a mission as it slunk through the legs of the crowd. Eventually, it spotted a red-haired young man going down on one knee to propose to a red-haired young woman - Mathias Pride and Winnie Harper. Jack knew both decently enough. One he was far more fond of than the other. And the one he favored did not seem to be the more pleased of the two between the couple. If anything, she appeared to be the opposite.

The fox raced toward the pair even after Mathias finished placing the ring on Winnie’s finger. This seemed to make no difference to the eager, excitable vulpine. It rushed forward until it was at Winnie’s side. If her hand, too, had fallen to her side, the red-furred creature would determinedly attempt to get his jaws around it – not to bite her, though it might appear that way at first, but to get his teeth around the ring in an attempt to slip it downward and off her finger. If Winnie’s hand was not at her side but raised, the fox would paw at her ankles, whine, and whimper at her until she lowered her hand enough for him to get at the ring.

If the band of jewelry was magical, there was a chance that it was too late and he wouldn’t be able to pry it off. However, as he wasn’t sure, there wasn’t any reason good enough for him not to try. It seemed someone didn't wish the matching couple well.

Meanwhile, a little furry black shadow lingered in the fox's wake, sniffing here and there to make sure it was headed in the right direction as its perceived parental figure. Salami, the two-month old black kitten, however, was supposed to have a babysitter. And if said babysitter didn't hold her back from following him into danger, there would be hell to pay.

@Mathias Pride & @Winnie Harper

Date: October 19th, 2024 Interacting/Mentioning: @Uri Davies

Speaking: #b284be Thoughts: #c9a0dc Translations:

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ "Mystery is as mystery does... Whatever is whatever was..."⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Siobhan preened in her mirror before she stepped out of her common room. She was so excited for this new adventure but she wanted to make sure she looked as presentable as possible. She had forgone asking for a new ball dress when she had heard that the theme would be paying homage to decades past as the school stepped back into a world of mystery and whimsy. When the invitations had gone out, she had ben delighted to see that there would be games this time around- that way if she didn't see anyone whom she knew, she could at least escape into a guessing game.

As she took one last little glance in the mirror, she hoped she didn't look out of place with her outfit. It had been a hand-me-down from her mother, from back in her "flower-power" days. It was a beautiful chiffon dress, adorned with a pattern of wisteries and green leaves all across the bodice and skirt. It wasn't too fancy- nor was it too plain. It was perfectly her, falling just above her knees and fitting itself around her wrists With a little of her mother's tender, love, and care, the dress had been altered to fit her and it was fun to twirl in. Her boots were sent to her from her sister from an old Halloween costume as an "early" birthday present. She had even requested help from a professor in enchanting two of her favorite hair clips to make the bees on them fly around and land in different spots on her hair. She never really considered herself to look more than average but tonight she felt... radiant...

Siobhan practically skipped out of the Gryffindor tower and down to the Great Hall where it had been decorated so... dreary? She suddenly felt overly colorful- far too bright for such an event and was hesitant to step inside. What if the other students thought her dress was too childish? Too out of place? She didn't have a back up option...

She slowly inched her way inside of the Great Hall and relaxed slightly as she saw the more "60's" entrophy as muggle meals such as Jello, Television Meals and "Space" food made her giggle as she entered the Ball for sure. Truthfully she was just parched and was hoping to find some tea or perhaps some water. Over the summer, she had been gifted a beuatiful ornamental tea set from her Nana and she had brought one of the lavender tea cups down with her to sip out of, just for that added air of proper ladylike structure. As she walked she observed the beauty that the decorations brought to the historic hall and she let her fingers waft through the enchanted fog that floated across the ground.

Having filled her teacup, she smiled into the lavender infused flavoring of the tea she had poured for herself. While the tea itself wasn't lavender flavored, the teacup had been stained with the flavoring over the years that it had been in her Nana's posession and it would continue to be flavored with lavender and honey as long as it was in Siobhan's.

Looking around she noticed a couple people she had met the year before but a familiar back caught her eye. Siobhan straighted her dress out and counted her bees as she walked towards him quietly trying not to spook him. Last ball- she had broken his nose and she did not want a repeat of that event as this time there was nothing she could make to fix his nose if she accidentally broke it again. Other than ask a professor and she didn't want to earn detention for breaking it again AND back detention for doing it last year.

She placed a content smile on her face as she politely and softly tapped his shoulder so as not to startle him. The bees in her hair happily resituated themselves as she waited for her friend to turn around and hopefully chat with her for a few minutes.

Inventory:
-Siobhan's personal Teacup
-Enchanted hairclips
-Empty Potion Bottle
-Wand

sta 5 | eva 7 | str 7 | STATS | wis 6 | arc 4 | acc 6

Action: Saying hello to Uri Davies
Abilities: Healing Sage

Outfit

Reducio

Note: Thoughts Speech	Nabi's Dress: Reducio
The Great Hall 2024.10.19	Interaction Status: Open Interacting: @Delaney Collins Mentions: @Winnie Harper|@Mathias Pride

Nabi eventually found a place to sit, she had been drinking some of her punch. Placing her glass down as she looked out, Nabi noticed a girl walking towards her table. Nodding in a simple greeting, she observed as the girl sat down adjucent to her. Nabi said nothing as she looked back out to her surroundings, she was not known to have small talk. Nabi could feel her gaze, which was interrupted by the sudden sound of gasps and whispers near the center of the Great Hall.

Nabi could see at the center of the crowd two older students, one knelt on a single knee as he proposed to the other student. As she looked, she noticed that for a bride to be, the older student did not seem to be enraptured by the boy's proposal. Nabi continued to observe the scene with a stoic expression, she looked at the bride to be and noticed how she appeared to be in what she could only describe as heartsick. Nabi couldn't help but wonder if everyone else watching, also noticed the girl's reaction to being proposed.

She remained silent as everyone else began to exchange whispers amoungst each other after the scene had ended. It was not her place to meddle in such things, she thought to herself, "oh dear...may your story end well..". Without a word spoken, she took a sip of her punch; wishing the best to both students, although she had never met them.

The dramatic atmosphere of the ball seemed to have only amplified after the proposal, Nabi had begun to grow rather bored of it all. She got up thinking about whether or not she should head towards the murder mystery or get another glass of punch and continue observing the ball. Ultimately deciding to grab an overly sweet velvet cupcake, she made her way to the dessert table.

Abilities: none
Stamina: 6 Evasion: 6 Strength: 5
Wisdom: 8 ArcPower: 5 Accuracy: 5

Actions: awknowledged a girl's presence, observed a proposal, walks to the dessert table
Items: Wand

Interacting: @Mathias Pride | @Jack Burnett

Outfit: ✿

Mentioning: @Percival Gray | @Finnegan Conner

English | Irish

An imaginary audience was common among adolescences as they navigated the world around them and the awkward social anxiety that often accompanied it. Now Winnie could only wish the audience that had gathered around them was fictional. In her panic their faces had blurred; a faceless blob mocking her.

A year ago Winnie would have regarded Mathias as her prince charming. He looked the part as he knelt with an open ring box in his hand, but it was a cruel twist on the fairy tales she had once cherished. Yes. She had said yes, and she hadn't meant it. It wasn't the moment she had dreamed of as a starry eyed young child after her mother tucked her into bed.

The ring sliding onto her finger was less a promise of love, and more a shackle locking around her body and soul. She had handed her warden the keys to her mind, her hopes, dreams, and fears laid bare for him to study. What were you supposed to do when your enemy was the person who knew you best? She'd fare no better than an ice cube in hell.

He leaned in close, his breath grazing her ear, causing bile to rise in her throat, "Don’t worry, princess," he whispered, his voice like poisoned honey, sweet on the surface but lethal beneath. "You’ve found your prince. You’re mine now."

Mine. The word seared into her skin like an invisible brand. She could feel it—her invisible strings tightening, pulling. Eventually they would suffocate her. His hand seemed to linger, fingers brushing against her skin, each touch a reminder of just how much he owned her now.

In the crowd someone had dared to applaud her living nightmare, unaware they were cheering on her executioner. It felt like nails being hammered into her coffin she now found herself in.

"You’ll make a beautiful bride, Winnie. I’ve always known you would."

"Oh, Matt... You're so sweet..." She tried to fake her usual sweet tone, but couldn't stop her voice from trembling, "D-Don't get too far ahead, w-we'll have to wait until after we graduate." Two years, she reminded herself, she had two years.

She opened her mouth to try and confirm the length of their 'engagement' when suddenly she felt something warm and wet touch her finger. Despite the oddness of the moment, the distraction was welcome and widened blue eyes shot downwards to stare at the mischievous fox who was currently trying to steal her ring.

"What...? Where did you come from, little guy?" Winnie questioned as she knelt down, trying to carefully pry her finger out of its mouth. She grew up around animals and was used to getting bitten; it seemed the fox was only interested in the shimmering stone on her finger.

"Sorry, sweetie, this belongs to me," She tried to gently explain to the fox, her free hand reaching up to stroke his head to try and sooth the 'wild' animal as she wiggled her finger free, only to discover, much to her horror, that the ring was gone.