out here the good girls die

by our dancing days

You're Cinderella in your party dress; hair down, eyes burning, but you're searching for your nightgown, 'cause your feet hurt from dancing, baby, and don't you know it wasn't supposed to go like this? / freeverse.

Title: Out Here The Good Girls Die

Character: Andromeda Black

Summary: You're Cinderella in your party dress; hair down, eyes burning, but you're searching for your nightgown, 'cause your feet hurt from dancing, baby, and don't you know it wasn't supposed to go like this? Freeverse.

Notes: This is a songfic-freeverse-type-thing, with inspiration from The Killers' A Dustland Fairytale. I'd really recommend listening to it! I sincerely hope you enjoy!

---

"Now Cinderella, don't you go to sleep,
it's such a bitter form of refuge.
Why don't you know your kingdom's under siege,
and everybody needs you?"
-A Dustland Fairytale

---

Andy -

AndyAndyAndy.

You'd cut/off your own arm

just to get out of that house, wouldn't you?

To start off your f-a-i-r-y-t-a-l-e.

Your voice is like a (moon) shadow,

sweetheart;

cold & dead & oh so pretty.

Long brown hair and foolish eyes;

you're fooling no one, hun.

You're Cinderella in REVERSE/ESREVER;

turning your back on !glory! and ~riches~

to meet your prince.

.

You're not leaving, no;

you prefer the term escaping.

Escape, then,

b-l-o-o-d t-r-a-i-t-o-r,

or aren't you as Gryffindor

as you have wittle Siwius believe you are?

You're c-u-n-n-i-n-g, and witty,

and maybe even cruel,

and n-e-v-e-r-e-v-e-r-e-v-e-r

have you doubted your place in Slytherin

'til you meet your slick chrome prince.

.

You're their sister - always will be -

and no pathetic -black- spot on the family tapestry

will ever change that.

Blood is t-h-i-c-k-e-r than water, right?

Don't c˅r˅y then, Andy;

unless you choose to cr˅y˅ blood.

Right, Bella, darling?

You don't believe that.

You're just as Slytherin as always, dear.

.

You're Cinderella in your party dress;

hair d^o^w^n, eyes bur/ning,

but you're searching for your nightgown,

'cause your feet hurt from dancing,

baby,

and don't you know it wasn't supposed to go like this?

Your castles in the sky

are ((stranded)), vandalized,

and you climb d^o^w^n from your |turret| -

'cause who needs that prince, right?

.

But you want to sleep now, princess;

your crown, oh! how it hurts,

and you just need that refuge,

that salvation!

Still, your kingdom's under siege,

and that pretty perfect prince

ain't so much help in the face of your father's fury.

Everybody needs YOU;

there's still magic in the air, like there was in '61.

{{the last time you were all together}}

.

But you c-r-a-w-l into his arms

because even if you're Cinders

in reverse/esrever,

you still end u^p with that prince.

There's still m~a~g~i~c in the cadence of that young man's eyes.

Out of that (ball gown),

out of that castle |turret|...

Out here -

the good girls die.