Author Notes:

Please keep in mind this is better formatted on AO3, I would rather you go over there to check it out if you can. Same name, Dara999. Same story, The Crimson Gala.

Of course; Willow was chosen. The mayor's son had made unwanted advancements and she told him to fuck off, multiple times. Then one of the town's food stores burnt down. Willow had... a history. Accidents when she was younger; still trying to understand her place in the world and the desires she had in regards to fire. She caused a few fires, nothing too major. No one died. Not in her fires anyway. But she was branded as a pyromaniac no matter how much control she had over herself now. The blame for the massive loss was pinned upon her, silence falling upon all those she had previously trusted. Eye contact was refused when she pleaded to her innocence, heads shook disappointingly. But the benevolent mayor forgave her; said that they all made mistakes. Then his damned son pushed himself on her again; pig-faced and spoilt. She owed him apparently, as his father was so lenient to her.

She broke his nose.

Now she was dressed up like a slut and standing in a ballroom, gathering in front of a set of chairs. She recognised other people from her town; but there were so many other people here. How many of them were like her? How many were here to be sacrificed for the 'good of their people'? Surely everyone standing couldn't be one of those things, nor could they all be here to die. A handful of people walked in; lavishly dressed in black, red and gold. Those must be them. That meant everyone else was cattle? An older looking man stood up front, a smile showing off large fangs.

"Ladies and gentlemen, friends and esteemed... guests. Welcome to this year's gala! I trust this will be just as enjoyable as the ones before. Please; dine, drink and be merry! Let the festivities commence and allow this year be as prosperous as the last." A band begun playing, conversation increasing in volume.

Willow's heart was in her throat; she expected it to be a bloodbath. Yet here she was, standing in a skimpy dress, people seemingly enjoying themselves. Maybe she could sneak away? Was this even the slaughter she imagined? Slowly she made her way over to a large table, picking up a glass full of some kind of red liquid. Was this blood?

"It's wine sweetheart. An old vintage. Priceless." She turned to meet the gaze of a woman, tall and elegantly dressed in flowing black. She flashed a sharp smile, causing Willow to swallow a lump in her throat. "Don't be shy, you can have anything you want on the table." Long slender nails plucked an item form the table, offering it to Willow. "Foie gras. A French dish." Willow took it and hesitantly put it in her mouth. It was creamy, savoury, salty, the crunch of the cracker changing the texture. She'd never had something so nice, never had the money to have something so nice.

"What is it?" Maybe these creatures weren't as bloodthirsty as the rumours said.

"Liver." Her heart dropped, stomach turning in on itself. The countess must have seen her face drop as she let out a chuckle.

"Duck liver. Not human." Of course it was. Why would it have been human?

A scream sounded out, a man sprinting at full speed across the ballroom. "The first runner!" The air beside Willow moved and the woman was gone. In moments the countess had the man's head in her hand, lifting him off the ground. He cried and flailed, screaming obscenities at his captor. "I got him!" A small round of applause came from various members of the crowd. "Who would like the honours? Miss Wicker?" An elderly woman shook her head. "How about you Wilson?"

"You caught him Charlotte, you have the honours." She gave a light giggle before bringing her hand back, plunging it into the man's chest with a sickening crack. As she pulled her hand back out, blood sprayed over her dress and with pride she held his still beating heart in her hand for all to see.

"All those who attempt to escape will be part of the hunt later this evening. Allow this to be a warning." Charlie dropped the body, letting it hit the ground with a wet thump. As she stepped away, biting into the heart, the corpse was swarmed. Blood pooled on the ground as teeth tore into flesh ravenously. Willow's own blood ran cold. A few people screamed, others sobbing. She swore people were being dragged away.

She was going to die here.

The food. The drinks. The music. The dancing. It was all a façade. They really were just cattle for slaughter.

xX~~~Xx

Willow spent as much time as possible making herself as small as possible. She was frightened and exposed, silky white adorning her loosely. She wanted to scream, to rip out the crimson flowers in her hair and on her dress. To grab a knife and go down fighting! But… the image of that woman with the heart in her hands was too much for her. The trouble makers were taken away for 'the hunt'. She didn't want to be a part of that.

Willow downed glasses of wine, feeling the heat of the alcohol inside her. She wished that this would just be over and done with, maybe she should just off herself to save her dignity. All she could do was look back and forth, avoiding those who approached her. During this glance around she noticed a pair hiding behind one of the columns in the ballroom's far corner. They were… really going at it. Hands running through hair, under clothing and faces pressed together. It was kind of mesmerising to watch. Two people totally shut out from those around them, just focused on the other.

"Would you please join me for a dance miss?" Startled, Willow snapped her attention to the man in front of her. Shit. She got distracted by the dumb people making out. They extended an arm out, white fills billowing from their attire. Willow stuttered, searching for a reason to decline.

"I-I uh… I'm not really much of a dancer. S-sorry."

"Nonsense. Just allow me to lead, I'll teach you." The ravenette flashed a smile, the tips of fangs peaking out from under his lips. Oh fuck. He was one of them. Panic started to flood through her system. He was talking her hand, pulling her away from the edge of the room. She felt vulnerable, it didn't help that she was basically wearing glorified bedsheet. Willow could feel her limbs shake, he wouldn't kill her for no reason would he? Maybe he would. She had no idea.

Wilson had been watching the woman for a while now. Watching her weave in and out of the crowd, a lacy garter flashing every now and then. It would be a lie if he said he wasn't attracted to her, but it wasn't the first time a beautiful person had come to the gala. Nevertheless, he wanted her.

"Have your eyes on that one Higgsbury?" Maxwell smirked, coming into Wilson's peripheral.

"I do indeed."

"She seems flighty. I think you're going to have to wait until the hunt for her."

"I don't think she's a runner."

"We'll see." Maxwell brought a glass to his lips, sipping the dark liquid inside it.

Wilson saw his chance, she was distracted by a promiscuous pair in the corner. He strode over, daring not to make a sound until he was right next to her. She seemed so jumpy. Maybe she would run. That would be a shame; he was looking forward to playing with her.

The music was light, easy to move to. He took her hand in his, placing his other hand on her waist. He guided her, smirking as her face become flushed, avoiding eye contact. They flew across the floor. Her feet were clumsy at first but she eventually got into the swing of it.

"Wilson." Amber eyes met his own, blinking in confusion. "My name. Wilson P Higgsbury."

"I… Uh… Willow… just Willow." He hummed thoughtfully. This all felt so surreal to Willow. No one came back from the gala. What came next? How long until the façade stopped and the killing started.

"Did you know that Willow trees symbolise immortality in Chinese culture?" His prey was silent, furrowing its brow at him.

"They're a symbol of grief here."

"True. They're also supposed to be the trees witches use to craft with."

"Is that right?"

"Indeed." The music began to fade, swiftly jumping into the next piece. Something slower, closer to a waltz. Wilson moved fluidly, giving her a twirl. "You know. For a mere mortal, you are gorgeous." Heat burned in Willow's cheeks.

"Do you say that to every meal?" He let out a hearty chuckle, teeth in full view. All willow could see was those same teeth tearing into her skin, her blood staining his ivory suit.

"Not at all. Just you~" Just when Willow thought it was impossible to feel any more exposed than she already was, suddenly she was aware of every bare part of her. As they moved a breeze touched her thigh, her chest. She could feel her heart pound in her ears. "Don't run on me Miss Willow. I'd hate for you to be caught by someone other than myself in the hunt." Wilson felt her freeze. Her heart was racing. Blood vessels pulsating. Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed it softly. "Thank you for the dances Miss Willow. You picked it up quite fast. I'll see you later this evening." With that he left her, melding back into the crowd of ghouls and prey alike. Willow tried to slow her breathing, moving back to the hidden edges of the room.