The rattle echoed through the tunnel, followed immediately by the fizz of a spray can. The fumes wafted. Her nose wrinkled and she threw her hood off to shake her platinum blonde hair free. She rolled her right hand and wiggled her hips before stretching her arms. The artist was almost finished with this mural but a sliver of anticipation tickled her neck and slid down her spine.
She was strokes from perfecting her image when the sound of footsteps started echoing. Clenching her muscles, she dropped the can she was using into a bag right underneath her. She hastily picked up another can, scribbling her signature tag, throwing that into her backpack as police puffed, 'Hey! Stay where you are!'
Zipping it up she threw her bag on and started making haste in the other direction. She was at the mouth of the overpass and into The Isle City, moving bullet-fast as she evaded the authority. They were still on her tail when her options started limiting themselves. If she was going to escape, she was going to have to start climbing.
She sped into an alley and started ascending the fire escape. The police started climbing once she had reached the third floor. When she was on the sixth she had to climb up the building in order to reach the rooftop. Chest heaving she pulled herself up the side, rolled and started sprinting for the other end of the structure. The police were just pulling themselves up when she was at the edge of the roof. There was a huge jump between this building and the next one. If she didn't make it, she'd probably die when she hit the ground.
The taggist grinned as she readied herself to leap. The police yelled for her to stop, but she was already soaring through the air. Time stopped and she was one with the clouds as the adrenaline pumped through her veins like pistons. Her landing was rough and awkward, but when she steadied herself and got up the police were standing on the edge of the other building and yelling obscenities.
"We'll get you next time, Witch!"
{Naminé}
I remember the last time I was comfortable as myself with intense clarity. I was thirteen years old, a budding artist, moving on from copying pictures of Crash Bandicoot and imitating Picasso to find my own style. I'd been a fan of steampunk and contrasting feminine elements with masculine influences. I loved limiting the colour schemes. I enjoyed adding swirls, and crosshatching, and delicate spidery designs. Art was a form of self-expression, and less of a way to vent my frustrations.
What hung on the back of my door now was the first artwork I'd managed to get in an actual gallery. It was slightly cartoonish, but more grown-up than anything I'd managed to produce before. It was of a girl sitting behind a window, wearing a white dress, and a rib cage created from the spindly, spidery claws of black-purple mist. She was sitting in the middle of a lavish white room, its walls covered in places she had only dreamed of visiting. The girl in the painting had never experienced the warmth of a sunset, the glory of the ocean, the beauty of seashells, or the content happiness of friendship. The image itself was called Dusk. No one at the gallery had managed to figure out what it meant, but Naminé did. It was what the girl was staring at, all the time, every day, stuck in a world of perpetual twilight. She wanted to see what night and day looked like, but she couldn't. It was like being stuck in purgatory.
I can't quite remember what compelled me to create it, but it might have had something to do with learning to play the flute, and how the music came out better than when it was blown in.
Everyone's gone through it right? An art lesson, or an English class, where your teachers find a myriad of hidden meanings, and specific messages constructed of different brush strokes and a few fancy similes. I hated those lessons, because at the time I was terrible with case studies. I thought they were stupid. My mindset was more along the lines of 'Why can't the curtains be blue, because they're fucking blue. Can't the writer detail something as simple as curtain colour without having their motives questioned?' I didn't get that the teachers were actually on to something- well- not concerning curtain colour, but in character movement, in selected words, and paragraph construction. I didn't get that emotion fuelled the very way that artists did everything, because the art and very creative function is written into their bones.
When I constructed this image I didn't paint with my own blood, sweat and tears, but someone else's. I'd seen the pain of my friends and acquaintances as they developed into people that hid behind lies and used it to fuel my inspirations. I feel that the main reason they resonated with my painting was because there were elements of it that corresponded to their own lives.
The gallery which showed my painting created a pamphlet, where my image fronted the section for junior entries, the only thing left behind in my comment section were my initials and a very old email that I am ashamed to admit involved my obsession with Bleach and Soul Eater at the time (something along the lines of nami-no-kami at hotmail dot com). And, I don't know if that was the worst or best decision of my life. There might have been a school of idiots that visited the gallery during that time, who all spammed me with dick pictures, or stupid chain emails that promised to rip my tongue out if I didn't send them on, but there were a few special people who were really inspired and amazed at my picture, and that made it all worthwhile.
I came into email correspondence with one boy, a special being that could have been a forty-year-old man living in his mother's basement- but if he wasn't then he sounded like an amazing talent. He loved my picture. He sent me a song, inspired by my picture, that became the first in a long list of songs he created with his band, also named after my picture. I was so flattered. The boy, under the name 'Black Cat', eventually revealed himself to be Roxas Evans, a very handsome boy that went to my school, a fact I was completely shocked, ecstatic and petrified over. But he didn't know that. To him, I was an online persona under the signature 'Fauxame'.
We told each other a lot without actually telling one another. He wanted to know what stemmed such a moving image, and I made it seem like these problems my friends were experiencing were something I was actually worried about. I was so shallow. Roxas grew up believing that I was some kind of really depressed emo child. You don't understand the misconceptions he believes now. But the truth is… I am not dealing with my parents refusing to acknowledge my existence because of my gender, or sexuality. I'm not depressed. I'm not clinically insane. I'm not poor, or retarded, or lonely.
Well… maybe lonely, but definitely not to the extent that I require therapy of any kind. I was lonely in the way that my best friends were my sister, and her gay boy toy. I was lonely in a way that I was too awkward for real conversations, so I listened to imaginary music in order to avoid them. I was lonely in a way that I spoke to my pet fishes (Bacon and Gypsy) more than I did to people on a regular basis.
Over time Roxas became more popular, and really cool, and I just developed into a girl who couldn't- for the life of her- keep up a regular conversation. We stopped speaking, and in one foolish act of idiocy, I deleted my old email and created a newer, more mature one (ie. naminexdblanc at gmail dot com). Even though we had once been so close, I watched as he drifted away. The conversations between Fauxame and Black Cat became a distant memory. Even though I try to fight them off, my affections for him have only grown stronger, and I find facets of him in all of my paintings.
I had an email in my 'drafts' folder telling Roxas that this was my new email, and that if he wanted to keep talking to me, this was the one to use. But it didn't work. I didn't want him to know this was the real me. My thoughts became muddled up, I abandoned my diary and turned to art. But at this time I was too shy to actually get myself another spot in an art gallery. Fighting for fancy spots in a nice, clean museum was definitely too much work, so I turned to the streets.
Around the time my older sister, Aqua, went to fight in The Midgar War, my mom was asked to take care of our cousin, Prompto, who introduced me to the amazing art of parkour. If I had to describe it in one sentence, I'd say 'It's the closest humans come to flying'. I was completely determined to learn this sport so I could reach tagging heights that others couldn't. Prompto was the first one to learn that by night I ran around to scribble my signature and personal style all over Destiny Capitol.
I remember him saying that my initials (N. D.) were definitely not enough to keep up a tagger's façade, I told him I used to go by 'Fauxame', but he made me think long and hard to see if this was what I wanted to be known as. Fauxame was something warm and personal, between Roxas and I. Did I want to share that with everyone else? Prompto brought together a lot of my artworks and looked for a collective theme. He saw how easily I manipulated reality until it was just something to be expected, like the slivers of Harry Potter that weaved into reader's lives.
From that moment on, he dubbed me Witch.
As I grew older the picture I didn't understand myself started to make more sense. The cage around people's hearts became stronger while at the same time disintegrating into delicacy. Their problems became my own because of my own growing compassion. These problems weren't trivial anymore, they were becoming real issues.
Why wasn't my cousin Larxene allowed to dress the way 'he' wanted to? How come it wasn't okay for Sora to fall in love with boys? Why weren't mom and dad allowing Kairi to study hairdressing, make up, or fashion? Why must I got to church without understanding why I have to go? Why college? Why choose a career in my teens when I still needed to ask my teachers if I could go to the bathroom?
Witch asked these questions, she answered them, she provoked thought, emotions, and inspired. Witch became the girl that I wanted to be. She asked what I couldn't, she dressed like I couldn't, and she attracted the attention that I couldn't. She was the sassier, sexier, more intelligent, more enchanting, more… magical human than I could never be. And so she became my biggest curse.
Witch became my form of self expression while the strength of my voice as regular old Naminé tightened and died. The idea of Witch unfolded her wings and spread like wildfire. Witch was now a common name in the Destiny Capitol Underground. She became bigger than I would ever have imagined, and I don't know how to feel about that. I guess I really hated the irony that I could never become the entity that I was already.
In my search for answers to my subconscious painting, I became everything that my gallery picture now portrayed. On the way I created an imaginary creature that held more power than a real person ever could. Had I solved the problem or made it a thousand times worse? Before I created 'Dusk' I might have been happy as who I was, but that painting made real all the insecurities I was yet to face, and eventually, who I would become.
Everyone I know wears a kind of mask. Everyone has something to hide, I think. We walk around with masks that bind our smiles and cut off our oxygen. Mysterious. Straight. Perfect. Unfeeling. Content. But masks break. The battle lies in accepting the facets of humanity we find underneath.
Or… that might be something Witch would say.
{Naminé}
When I was a lot younger, I read a manga about a girl who put up a hell of a façade herself. It wasn't in the same way which I pulled my stunts; nerd by day, tagger by night, but pretty pink princess during the day, and gross tomboy by night.
The story 'Switch Girl' is about a girl who was a complete tomboy before she entered high school. Right before graduating elementary school, the boy she had been best friends with (and by friends, she meant flirting through wrestling, arm wrestling, insulting, etc.) started crushing on a cuter, more feminine girl. The boy she had been in love with (or whatever grandiose feelings resembling love you feel when you're a total of eleven years old) fell for a girl who was the complete opposite of what the protagonist was.
That apparently stung so hard that the heroine dedicated her life to becoming a gorgeous, fashion-savvy beauty queen. But after a while this sparkling image became tiring, and at night time she would revert back to her true self; a bargain-hunting, farting, bunned-up, sweatpant-clad, glasses-wearing disaster.
I should have realised long before elementary school finished that Kairi was going through the exact same thing. She used to be in a one-sided flirtationship with a hottie named Tidus, who has since moved to Besaid Village on the other side of The Destiny Isle. They used to fight a lot, meaning; she arm wrestled him into the ground and for some reason he got off on losing or something. He was a boy. She was a girl. Can I make it any more obvious?
A pretty girl called Yuna came along around fifth grade and completely entranced the kid. Kairi tried her best to charm him, but he was infatuated, enough so to follow her all the way to Besaid anyway. From there on out Kairi recreated her image in order to make sure she would never be heartbroken again. Her transformation was incredible. She grew out her hair, and worked all summer at the local markets for a new wardrobe. She watched beauty tutorial videos over and over again until she knew how to apply make up without looking like a clown (with her eyes closed, in the dark… twerking), and she even handed over her skateboard. That was a pretty tearful event. (Of course I wouldn't let her give it away. I had it. Taught myself how to ride it too.)
It was six o'clock in the morning on a Sunday and I was watching the transformation take place now. I was already set to go. I had on a long sleeved chiffon shirt and a black pencil skirt. What I was wearing was for squares, which is what I was when I wasn't Witch. I had to keep the difference as stark as possible, because if someone figured out that I was Witch- oh boy, I don't even want to think about the consequences.
Kairi was going all out as usual, sitting at her vanity with an opened Michelle Phan video attempting to imitate the 'Summer Getaway' look within the twenty minutes we had left before stepmom made us haul ass. Kairi was the personification of 'Go big or go home'.
"You know she doesn't like it when you wear make up to church," I said.
"There is always the possibility of running into someone we know there," Kairi replied. "Can you fishtail my hair? This concealer is being a bitch."
Kairi was my identical twin, but you wouldn't have guessed it from how differently we dressed and our different hair colours. We were both naturally blond. Kairi's hair was actually a lot darker than mine, but she started dying it red around eighth grade. Now it was a pretty burgundy-wine colour. We'd been blessed with Barbie-rivalling features; small noses, plump lips, heart-shaped faces and wide lake-eyes. But while Kairi flaunted how gorgeous she was, I hid myself behind my bangs and a pair of dark square-rimmed glasses.
I guess, I can't call myself ugly because Kairi and I are identical, but I have to say she's prettier than me. She puts so much effort into her appearance. But it's also in the way she's so confident and flirtatious. She rocks what she wears, and the only time I feel happy in my clothes is when I'm chillin' at home in my pyjamas. The known Naminé dressed like a tool or a prep, with clothes that cover a lot of skin despite how much this killed me during the really, really hot days.
I really wished that I could show you what I looked like while I was Witch, I really do. But you're going to have to settle for Normal Naminé; brown contacts, brown wig and baggy, unflattering clothes. Of course our mother/father didn't think nor mind the fact that I was walking around in 'appropriate' clothing. They didn't know that I ran through the streets in barely a crop top whenever I was Witch. If they found out that I was an infamous, parkouring, street-art-enthusiast I'd be sent off to Departure Military School instantly. They'd threatened Kairi with it over and over.
Kairi exhaled loudly, smiling in triumph as she brushed her blush down, "Okay, now your turn, Naminé."
"No," I growled, tugging on her hair to get her to sit still. It had taken me three days to learn how to do a proper fishtail braid and I was going to do it right dammit.
My older sister was always trying pull her makeover rubbish on me while I was still Naminé.
"Oh, c'mon Naminé."
"I said no, Kai."
She was a hypocrite, and didn't believe keeping Witch a secret was a good idea. I didn't like it, but that's just the way it had to be. Besides, I had leverage. If she ever told anyone I was Witch, all I had to do was show them a few pictures of Kairi taken in her 'off mode' (sweatpants, bun, no make-up, glasses). It wouldn't do anything, but revenge didn't often serve a purpose anyway, it was purely for there for non-existent gratification. Sure, it wasn't exactly mild to wave evidence that would murder Kairi's position on the social hierarchy in her face, but what she had on me was definitely way bigger than any petty high school status quo.
I wasn't being dramatic, if my principle (evil Nazi bitch) found out who I was I'd definitely get expelled.
We both walked into the kitchen and dining room, and I moved to grab an apple off the table when my stepmother surged forward to slap my hand.
"Naminé," she scolded, "you know you have to fast before you attend The Lord's mass. We'll eat afterwards."
My mother's name was Aurora Beauty. She was our stepmom and hadn't married our father as of yet, but plans were in progress. She spent half of her day doing regular bridely duties. She was still kind-of dealing with her temperamental fresh-out-of-the-closet ex-husband Philip. She had seemed pretty chill at first; taking our sides in arguments and occasionally treating us to frozen yoghurt, but when we were fifteen she started pulling this overly-religious crap on us. Dad had never really believed in intense religious devotion, dedicating more focus on academics and college than he had ever shown The Church, but according to him, while he was gone, whatever Aurora said went. And he was always gone.
It's like she had been born in the sixteenth century. Church. Clothes that covered almost all our skin. Being 'ladylike'. Little to no electronics. It drove us mad sometimes.
Kairi and I were practically still asleep when she forced us into the car. Kairi took the wheel and I sat shotgun while Aurora clambered in. There was no conversation and the only time I made noise was when I dug through Kairi's purse to find some gum strips. Even though she had been around for a good third of our lives, we were still particularly cautious about what we said around her. Even one slip up could rub her the wrong way.
We were driving under an overpass when we hit traffic, and Kairi tapped my shoulder. She pointed to my left. Painted on the side of the overpass was one of my bigger tags, slightly covered by scribbles of other graffiti artists, but still pushing through the designs with bold sunset colours and a feminine, intricate design.
"That's one of my favourite Witch tags," Kairi admitted. "It reminds me of Twilight Town."
Aurora turned her head and scoffed at the graffiti. "Kairi, you shouldn't concern yourself with the likes of someone like Witch. Illegal tagging is only going to get you in trouble."
I clenched my fists and breathed in slowly, blinking to keep my eyes from narrowing instinctively. You are now allowed to make every terrible assumption you can about her. Do you know how irritating it is to live with someone that hates half of who you are?
The corner of Kairi's lips quirked up, "Witch is a hurricane of inspiration for The Destiny Isle Underground. There's nothing wrong with admiring art, Aurora."
"Art?" she questioned. "If it's not on a canvas, or in a sculpture, it will never be art to me. Witch will get caught, and then she'll atone for her sins."
Kairi pulled into the church parking lot and Aurora got out, waiting for us to follow her. I motioned for her to go on ahead while Kairi fussed around with some components of her bag. While she wasn't looking I let out a roar and kicked the tires.
"I seriously can't sit through another one of these," I sighed, cooling down and turning my phone off.
"Don't worry," Kairi assured winking, "Remember? We have more chance of skipping once school starts. You better ready your excuses."
As I did every Sunday, I zoned out through everything that wasn't the homily, the Eucharist, or hymns, and thought about the glory of a stained glass mural. It was either that, or showing the public the ugliness in beautiful, yet desperate housewives.
{Naminé}
The way that the both of us spent the last Sunday before school started was completely different. Nerdy Naminé had already studied her ass off to familiarise herself with the Year 12 coursework, and so I rewarded myself by playing a few hours of Assassin's Creed IV, decked out in boy shorts and a bra. It was reaching that unbearable heat in the summertime best suited to undies weather.
When I was excited about a particular game, my inner monologue tended to slip out in the form of barely-restrained curses and various blasphemies, stopped only by the occasional sip of Ribena (the drink of the under eighteen gods). I paused the game and ripped off my glasses, rubbing my eye sockets with the heel of my palms. I needed this because the writing on PS3 games were suited for large plasma screens, and not the ancient technology I was too lazy to replace. The door burst open and Kairi pranced in with her iPad balanced on top of her manicure box and make up bag. I wiggled the glass bottle in my hand before placing it down, bottle-cap off.
"Kairi, I said I'm not going to go through with your makeovers while I'm still Naminé."
She rolled her eyes, and while I was looking at them, I wondered if mine were that blue when I took out my brown contacts. I was also kind of concerned because of how I kept referring to myself in third person.
"Guess who's hosting a before-school-starts party?" Kairi announced, dumping the stuff down on a bean bag, the clatter of her nail polishes drowning out the sound of the in-game dialogue. I groaned loudly.
"I'm not going." I stated firmly.
"No, you're not. But Witch is."
"What? No."
"C'mon. It's at Vanitas' house."
"How is that supposed to encourage me? I don't even know Vanitas that well."
Kairi pouted, biting her lip before muttering, "Roxas is coming." Normally that wouldn't have worked for me, because- no offense- she looked absolutely ridiculous in her off-mode. C'mon. She was wearing a stained tank top and a pair of shorts I believe belonged to Dad, the drawstring was gathered and reached down to her knees. It wasn't a pretty look, but hey- what did I know?
I paused the game and sent Kairi the dirtiest of dirty looks I could muster, flipping her off before returning to the game, "I have an infamous Templar to assassinate, Kai. Leave me alone." I wasn't going to let her use my pathetic crush on Roxas against me.
Her pout became more pronounced as she crossed her arms over her chest. Or she could have been constipated. I don't know. It's hard to tell when you're not paying attention. "I will not have you squander our Year 12 experience with your stick-up-the-ass-ness. We're going to go out tomorrow, and we're going to dance, and drink, and have fun, just in time to nurse a hangover during morning assembly on Wednesday."
"No."
Kairi sighed, waiting a moment before dramatically sighing louder and taking out her phone, "Well, I guess I'm just going to have to tell Roxas that Witch can't make it."
"What?!" I yelled, outraged that she had gone behind my back to speak to him. Roxas was mine. Which is kind of awkward to say because Kairi definitely knows him better than I do. She's in his fucking band. Yeah, you try and deal with the fact that your sister gets to hang out with your crush MORE because you can't get over your fucking fear of social interaction.
"Think about it, Nam. You said that Witch was going to take a break in order for you to focus more on your studies, right? This could be her final hurrah."
"Witch is not dying, Kairi. The High School Certificate is just more important."
"Why? You don't even want to go to college," Kairi muttered crossly. I opened my mouth, about to retort, but the words launched themselves back into my throat. I'm pretty sure my expression at least looked outraged. I'd just been suckerpunched. Three times. "If you don't come to the party, I'll tell Aurora."
"What the fuck, Kairi," I snapped, throwing the controller down. "Why are you being such a bitch about this?"
"C'mon, Naminé, you didn't think I was actually going to do that." Could have fooled me.
"But seriously, I'm calling Roxas right now," Kairi said, holding up her dialling phone. I launched at her, trying to hit the 'end call' button when I heard a boyish husky voice answer the other end.
"Hello?"
I couldn't help my face from heating up, but before I could hit the screen Kairi swooped in and pressed the 'speaker' button.
"Hi, Roxas. I've got a treat for you."
"This isn't going to be like a last-Halloween type of trick, right Kai?"
I hated, and I mean hated the fact that Kairi was closer than him than I was. I didn't really have anyone else to blame but myself though. I never went to Kairi's gigs (awkward turtle) but each of those had been an opportunity to meet him. God, I'm such a coward.
"No," she said, grinning from ear to ear. "I've managed to track Witch down for you. I've asked her to come to Vanitas' party."
"Woah! Really?!" My heart shattered. Roxas sounded so happy and excited. "Is she with you? Can I speak to her?"
"Yeah." She smirked, "Witch, Roxas wants to speak to you. He's a huge fan."
I tried to refuse, but Kairi pinned me down and shoved the phone to my ear, even though I could clearly hear it from a metre away.
"Hello? Witch?"
"Um… Hi."
"I hate to sound sceptical, but it really is Witch right? Kairi is not the most reliable of sources."
I was going through an internal shit storm. Witch was a visual character. I'd never had to worry about what she sounded like until right this second. Should I lower my voice? Should I raise it? Should I speak slowly? Smokey-toned? Pretend I don't understand English?
In the end I just settled on my normal tone. I mean, it's not like he would be able to compare Witch to my normal voice anyway. I never spoke at school. He probably had no idea what I sounded like regardless.
I shrugged, "It's up to you whether you decide to believe in me or not. I'm not a faith-dependant pixie."
"Oh wow. I'm sorry for fangirling, I'm just a long-time fan." I was melting. Roxas' voice did all kind of nice things to my body, some of them inappropriate for viewers under the age of fifteen. So shoo. "I have a picture of every tag I've come across." I imagined that he did that thing where he scratched the back of his neck, hemp bracelets jangling. "Oh man, that sounds weird. I'm sorry."
I giggled. I'd never heard Roxas so flustered before. He always seemed so calm and collected. "It's alright, Roxas. Sick name by the way."
"I'm sorry- I mean… thank you. Your voice is beautiful. I- that came out weird." He laughed nervously on the other end, and I pinked up, laughing with him. I was so flattered. He thought my voice was pretty? "Anyway, my band is playing at a party around here, on Tuesday night. Do you think you could make it? I'd love to meet you, and a lot of my friends would too."
"I…"
"That is- unless you already had plans. Or don't want to go. I would totally understa-"
A warm feeling filled up my chest and I smiled softly. Suddenly there was nothing in the world but Roxas' voice and I. It made my skin tingle to think about his warm blue eyes and the curve of his lips. I wanted desperately to see his face when he saw Witch for the first time. It'd be like a mix of Christmas and New Years combined together, supposedly.
"Don't worry, Roxas. I'll come."
"Yes!" Kairi cheered, knocking me out of my perfect rose-tinted happy place. I rolled my eyes and motioned for her to shut up. I roll my eyes a lot, if you hadn't realised.
"Awesome," he replied, voice a mix of a laugh and an exhalation. "I'm really looking forward to meeting you."
"Me too." I hit the 'end call' button.
Kairi was sitting opposite me with her face in her hands, looking at me like I'd just sprouted fluffy, glitter-soaked wings. That's a good thing, I guess.
"You have it baaaaaad."
"Shut up, Kai."
"You want to kiss him~ And then undress him~ And then-"
"For the love of god, I will stitch your lips together," I growled, face an unhealthy shade of bubblegum pink.
"This is going to be awesome!" she exclaimed, reaching forward to hug me. I pushed her back, threatening to throw the PS3 remote at her face.
It would slam between her eyes. It would be satisfying.
"You put me on the spot! How can you possibly benefit from me going to that goddamn party?!" I lunged at her and clambered over my sister, straddling her stomach and hitting her repeatedly with my Minion plush toy. "What if someone figures out that Witch is really me?!"
Kairi spoke as if she was addressing an adoring audience, looking at the ceiling like it was a large spotlight, "Just imagine how popular I'll be once they realise that I'm the only one that Witch interacts with? 'Kairi; the girl in cahoots with Witch!' Just think about it Nami!"
"We. Can't." I accentuated my point by hitting her with the Minion doll in between words. "Just. YOLO. Our. Way. Through. Life! You stupid air-headed douche-canoe!" The Minion swung and knocked over the bottle of Ribena, spilling onto the wooden floor. "LOOK WHAT YOU DID!"
Kairi gasped, mock-offended, "I didn't do it! How dare you call me a douche-canoe, you turd-fondler."
Red-faced I spat out, "Slut biscuit!"
"Butt nugget!"
I bet you're wondering where the hell we get these terrible names, right?
My door opened and Aurora stood there looking unimpressed, the handle of a spatula tapping against her elbow. They hadn't just shoved a stick up her ass, they'd opted for the entire freaking tree. That's how pissed she sounded.
"Girls. Young ladies mind their volume and language." LOL (I really am sorry about that. Internet slang abbreviations don't look right to me unless they're in either all caps or all lowercase. None of this 'Lol' business). Excuse me for my mix of internet lingo, but 'butt nugget' was now considered a bad word? Excuse me while I do my lines of sherbet and rap along to the lyrics of the Teletubbies theme song.
"Sorry," Kairi and I said in tandem.
She returned back to her proper priss self, brushing down her below-knee dress and folding her hands over one another, "Clean up and dress yourself appropriately. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Our guests should be here any minute now." Aurora said.
"We have guests?"
"Yes, the Gainsboroughs are coming over."
As Aurora closed the door I placed my hands on my face and dragged them down. If my face fell off we might have a valid reason to avoid this. "If there was anything I didn't need right now, it was a visit from Olette."
Slut biscuit and butt nugget had nothing on Olette. I swear to god, she really boils my milk.
"It's okay," Kairi said optimistically. "Forget about her and try to figure out what you're going to wear to this party."
I scoffed, flopping back on my bean bags. "How are we even going to get there? We're grounded, and mom has your keys."
"Don't you worry your pretty little head. I've got a plan."
Follow Me Down
[Chapter One]
tbc.
a/n: Hi, my name is Kacey, but you can call me Kace if you'd like. Please review, favourite and follow. I like all the things.
warnings: adult themes, swearing, alcohol, drugs, illegal activities, homosexual pairings, OOCness, an unreliable author, idk, more to come…
blurb: "Everybody's got something to hide, I think. In this grade alone, we've got a narcissistic beauty who's really a tomboy, a twin that's sick of being identical, a queen bitch who might be batting for the same team, a hall pass dealer, and several super confused boys. But there are no secrets as grand as the identity of Witch, the mysterious daredevil taggist famous all across the capital, and as of right now, rumoured to attend Destiny Isle Academy." [21st October 2013]
disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts belongs to Square Enix and Disney. All bands and brands mentioned in this fiction belong to their respectful owners.
Cheers.