A/N: So sorry for the wait! University has been keeping me busy, but not too busy to disappear! :)
Disclaimer: I own about as much as Skye does.
There are things I like about my best friend, and others which I think should be buried six feet under along with her grandma shawl. Yet I do think that if those peculiar traits were buried, they would rise from the dead to prey upon an unsuspecting village population or a nearby homestead. The shawl would serve as the ultimate fashion disaster.
Yes, that's right. I'm talking about the Witch Princess' tendency to take everything as if it was all one big, mischievous catastrophe solely for her twisted amusement. I'm talking about her habit of trying to save my sorry behind and then failing to help me with anything besides that which she had initially intended.
The second run-in with the Harvest King had made me queasy, not to mention jittery with nerves. Plates had shattered to the floor, along with my super expensive cottage as a whole. Plaster had crumbled, wooden floorboards resembled very large burnt french fries, and yes the water I had splattered had already seeped into any wood that hadn't been over-grilled by the misplaced bonfire.
And what did the Witch Princess do…?
Leave me to suffer… again.
"Gee, thanks," I muttered sarcastically, as I plopped down on my dust-coated couch. Despite the itchy grains of plaster, the couch was a great deal better than the mangled thing that was my mattress.
The Witch Princess had finished her enthusiastic jumping, choosing to stretch out on the couch, hands folded behind her neck in lax contentment. She wasn't, however, content with sharing couch space. The witch stubbornly stretched her bare feet out over my thighs.
"Relax," she urged, eyes closed. It was as if she had born witness to incessant mass destruction on a daily basis. Oh wait, she had. The situation was merely a walk in the park, hardly worthy of her supernatural attention. "I'll fix it up eventually. As you know, I'm quite capable. Take a nap. It'll do you good…"
Despite the situation, I snorted. "I would if a chunk of the ceiling hadn't ripped my mattress a new one."
A chuckle sounded from the foot of the couch, where Skye sat with his legs crossed. The weariness on his face told me he was as strained as I was, but his laugh rang true.
"See…? He gets it," the Witch Princess offered.
I was about to say I couldn't expect anything less from the two of them, my best friend being the epitome of destruction and Skye being a liar-liar-pants-on-fire to most people he met.
My bitterness had still not faded, so I was glad when Skye spoke instead. I truly adored my best friend, and despite my obvious issues with Skye, it could be said that I had enough respect for him at that point to not want the man drowning, whether it be actual water or a wave of self-pity.
"I find Jill's wording amusing, but I wouldn't say her misfortune is," Skye corrected with a well-timed hair flip. "Princesses deserve castles, not half-destroyed homes." I could have sworn he was leering at that last part. The sass was reminiscent of the local twelve-year-old girl, Kate, trying to convince me that sprites weren't real.
Pft! Kids these days!
"I can agree with that," I mentioned.
My words were returned with a thirty-second-long sigh from the Witch Princess, filled with dramatized agony, "Buuuut I waaannnnnaaaaaa sleeep...!"
My response was immediate. "Yeah, but I want to work."
"Jill, Jill…" she chastised, shaking her head. Her untamed, blond ringlets swirled about her face, reminding me that the witch hadn't so much as tamed her bedhead that morning."You need less work and more play."
"I'll drag you if you don't get up," I warned, grabbing her bare foot in a vice grip.
To this, she cracked an eye open. A permanent scowl planted itself on her face. I was pretty darn sure Skye would have run screaming if I wasn't wearing a poker face equivalent to a clown's ten layers of face makeup.
Let's put it simply. If the Witch Princess is upset and you are anyone who is not in her immediate friend group, you should run far, far away, preferably to another planet. She will likely set your house on fire.
But the Witch Princess has her loyalties. She knew she had to help me. After all, she keeps her word… most of the time. It doesn't really count the days that she decides to spontaneously combust something or dump five liters of rainbow glitter glue on your head.
"I'll take you guys home, but you won't like my methods," the Witch Princess muttered darkly.
"Just don't go over the broom limit," I reminded, recalling the Harvest King's recent angry outburst.
"Please," she scoffed, swinging her legs off and putting her feet to the floor. She stood up and motioned for us to follow her out the door. "There is no broom limit."
I followed her, not at all scared of her travel method. After all, it wasn't as though I hadn't been offered a ride on her broomstick before. It's quite exhilarating zipping through the air. Besides, you just have to make sure you hold on tight. The Witch Princess wouldn't let me fall to my death in the first place, being friends and all.
You just have to keep your mouth closed, obviously. Bugs don't taste good. Also, watch out for seagulls. The Witch Princess may hit the poor guys. She's not exactly friendly to wildlife. The fact that she almost started a forest fire proves it.
"Then why…?" Skye started, following close behind me.
I was about to assure him that nothing terrible would occur, but the Witch Princess beat me to it in her own twisted way, "She just meant don't go so fast that your puny human, thief's head takes a nosedive into the ocean."
"You'll be fine," I added.
"You'll just fall off twice. I'll catch you… maybe. If I feel like I," the Witch Princess said, swinging my door open and walking out into the cool night air. She picked up her worn broomstick from the damp grass, balancing it between her hand. Skye and I followed behind her.
I slapped the weary thief on the back, making him stumble slightly from the force. It was true that he would probably fall off at some point. I did, and let me tell you, I hadn't been so scared since I discovered Santa Claus was Mayor Thomas breaking into my house. (It's a long story. Don't ask. He still does it each year. I hide under my bed.)
Anyways, falling off a broomstick is like skydiving. The only difference is that it is a sadistic witch that catches you and not a parachute.
It was understandable that Skye was nervous, but I wasn't about to deny the inevitable. He would fall at some point. It was just a matter of when.
...Or when I pushed him off.
I was kidding. I think. The guy had started to grow on me like some weird type of mold. Maybe the really gross yellow kind behind the horse stable. When I really thought about it, he wasn't that bad. I mean, mold is supposedly not completely bad. It can be used in some medicines, even if it would make you want to throw up your dinner just thinking about it while taking penicillin.
So the guy was not all bad, just annoying at times.
That was why I held out my hand reassuringly as we got on board, signaling to him that all was safe… for the most part. He eagerly accepted my hand and hopped on between the Witch Princess and me.
"Ready..?" the Witch Princess asked. I could hear the smile in her voice. She was certainly ready for some mischief.
Skye started to mumble a 'yes,' but I didn't bother. The Witch Princess was already kicking her feet off the ground. It would be unlike her to ask unless it was to give the illusion of asking. Like I said, she was ready for some mischief.
...At Skye's expense.
The poor guy was not prepared for a trip on the witch's mystic broom. So while I gave a squeal of excitement as we set off, Skye full out hollered.
Riding broomstick style is no joyride; it's more like taking a spin on the world's most thrilling roller coaster. Some people (like me) are complete suckers for such things. Others would rather spend their time at the concession booths, wasting their ticket to go and gain their weight in cotton candy and tooth decay.
Skye has always had a preference for sitting in the (partially) shaded area and stuffing his cheeks full of over-salted popcorn like a starved chipmunk. Quite honestly, roller coasters make him sick more than any amount of junk food.
I thank him for keeping his stale cookies down.
The ride home was zippity-quick but notoriously reckless. I wasn't surprised to see him collapsed on the grass as soon as we hit solid ground. The poor guy had fallen off five times, which was, of course, each time the Witch Princess decided to do a loop-de-loop. She really likes her loop-de-loops, although I do think she made him fall off on purpose.
"Hey, Skye," I called, walking over and shaking his shoulder. His eyes were closed and he looked a bit pale leaning against the siding. "You alive?"
His eyes fluttered open, before eyeing me warily. "I am never doing that again."
"See Jill?" the Witch Princess urged. She was still on her broom, not planning to stick around. As her name implied, she still had much mischief to do. "He's no fun. I even stayed within the broom limit."
"You said there was no broom limit," Skye recalled, giving her a menacing glare.
The witch's face lit up. "I lied!"
Being one to get the last word in, the Witch Princess sped off into the night air, leaving a baffled Skye and an exhausted me in the dust, gaping like fish.
Skye then looked up at me questioningly.
"What? Did you swallow a bug or something?" I teased, my hand still on his shoulder in an effort to comfort the poor guy.
"I'm fine," he assured, straightening up. He smiled warmly, to which I let go of his shoulder as if it was scalding hot.
Skye's affections were strikingly obvious to the point where I knew if I didn't lay off the coddling, I was in for a relentless barrage of flirting. As if he wasn't doing it enough...
I let out a string of awkward laughter. "Okay, okay… Let's go inside. I know I said you were getting relocated, but my cottage is kind of damaged…"
His smile remained sunny. "No worries, princess. I rather like your home."
"I know you do," I muttered all while reaching down to my doormat and digging out my house key from under the worn carpet. "That is why I'm going to have to beg you to not break my trust. I don't want to turn you in, and I won't. I did say I'd help you, and I'm staying true to my word."
I slid the key into the lock before pushing the door open. I kicked my boots off as soon as I stepped inside the comforts of my own home.
"I won't do it again," Skye replied, placing his boots neatly to the side. He gently closed the door behind him as to not let the cold, late autumn air drift into my toasty homestead.
I eyed him warily. "You'd better not. You get one chance. One chance, you hear?"
"One chance is all I'll need," he assured with an unhealthy serving of arrogance.
"And one chance is all you'll get," I reminded him once again. "But I'm actually kind of hungry right now. I could use some curry. If you really want to make some, go ahead. I'll even help, and you can have full reign… so long as you help clean it up. I trust you won't poison me."
I didn't realize at the time what a change that was. At one point in time, I wouldn't trust Skye with a fist full of red curry any more than I would trust the Witch Princess when she told me she had absolutely nothing up her sleeves. But at that particular point of time, I trusted the guy to make me a potentially poisonous dish.
It's funny how things can change. I went from taking full control of food preparation to taking on the role of an assistant chef. I may have convinced myself that I didn't fully trust Skye, but my words were clearly wrong.
You obviously trust someone when you let them cook you a potentially lethal curry dish, then eat it without giving a second thought.
Obviously.
A/N: Again, so sorry for the wait! Thank you for the kind words! Reviews are love. :3