Mistress of the Well
She did a little dance around the Well, the cone-shaped party hat (made from a blank page in the back of a text book) dangling just to the side of her face.
Naraku's defeat had been sweet indeed.
"I am the Mistress of the Well! Fear meh!"
From a distance, Sango glowered at her intended.
"You should have told her it was sake, monk…"
Miroku laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair to try and dispel his discomfort.
"But Sango, it was a party! And now she is in the party frame of mind! Besides," he added, in an attempt to save his own hide, "if Inuyasha hadn't driven her to it, she never would have accepted the flask I offered her."
Sango's eyelids lowered ever so slightly.
Rushing, Miroku continued, "You must admit, my sweet, she's much more, ah, amusing...now…"
As Kagome completed a twirl – complicated by her inebriation – a resounding smack sounded through the clearing.
For a moment, Kagome paused.
And then she lifted her hands, shaking her hips.
This was a party, after all.
