(Disclaimer)
Eright, this fictional story is based on, get this, i another /i fictional story written by Holly Black. I am not claiming to be her, nor am I claiming any of her original work as my own. I don't even roleplay Holly Black or anythign wierd like that. ok?
(Author's note)
Thank you for the reviews. I'm actually not too sure where I'm going with this fic. Honestly, I don't see any intricate political plots happening so, my apologies. Most likely this will be a short little KayeXRoiben sort of thing... UGHGHGH, I know.
Most of these chapters are going to be brief. I'm farting them out little by little. This one right here is ridiculous but I decided to post anyways. You know when you write something and it sounds ok at the time (3:00am) and you wake up the next day, read it over and say "what the fuck."? Yeah…ta da!

( The night before.)
!&&&

The strobe lights were doing a nice job of making Kaye feel dazed and nauseous but she continued to mindlessly sway her hips on the dance floor. Well actually, there was no dance floor. The whole ground was made of ancient, wooden boards where a mixture of sweat and dust seeped into the cracks. Sometimes the abandoned warehouses near the dock became makeshift night clubs where a couple of light fixtures, some decent sound equipment, and five dollars all added up to another night out of town. And why not? Although there was nothing actually "fun" about coughing up your money so that one could grind against sweaty humans, it beat sweating by yourself at home.

Home. Yeah, that didn't really exist, at least not to a pixie who just discovered that she wasn't actually part of her family, her life, or the human race. Naturally, Kaye felt uneasy around Ellen, her non-mother. She still harbored some sort of sentiment for her, but it was the conditioned kind. The displaced girl sometimes thought of just leaving her gram's house, but she always ended up staying because the house was a place to stay, eat, and not get killed. And so without many options, she continued with "normalcy". Like going to school, which Kaye did (on occasion). But right now Kaye was definitely not in school. 2:00am. A damp and discombobulated girl squeezed her way out of the crowd, popped into the open air, and almost comically fell face first into the ground. Just kidding, she did.

"-uck."

Instead of springing back up hoping that no one saw her, Kaye just laid there on the ground, arms and legs sprawled, torso heaving. The heaving only made more dirt and dust to jump off the ground and settle on top of the little figure. Kaye was wearing purple (ripped) nylon stockings, shiny pleather shorts, a rainbow babytee, and a multitude of vintage scarves wrapped around her arms. All ruined now, of course.
Holy crap, it's hot. Why was there always something physically bothering her lately? It's too hot, it's too cold, there's something between my toes, the lights make my eyes twitch, the smell of gasoline makes my tummy go Whoa.
She tried to think of something else to think. A reflection of her wild and crazy night? A complaint about not being able to have a smoke? An acknowledgement of a growling belly? Nah. Her mind was blank, a state which she was becoming very familiar with. How long would this go on, this typical life that dragged its feet every day? How many days until a pixie can forget about her true self and go back to living the mundane life of a teenager?

With a groan, the mess gathered herself off the dirt and followed an imaginary line that led back "home."

Home. Roiben. They have something in common, don't they? They both disappeared.

#$&$&&

The lights were still on inside that little old house. Terrific.

But fear not! Kaye was a master at this by now. An artiste. She stopped at the pavement to take off her chunky boots. Some irons nails were purposefully pulled out from the side of those same boots once upon a time and now they were starting to fall apart. But a pair of rotten shoes traded in for the lives of many, including her own..fair trade.
Her sock-clad feet made little noise as she tip-toed her way to the kitchen door. The door opened with a click-swoosh that was a little too loud for her liking, but no one came running down the stairs with a shotgun and spanking paddle so Kaye was 50 in the clear. The little clubber fairy daintily danced her way across the kitchen floor, which was a hazard in itself. She elegantly stepped into a coffee puddle. Still warm. CoffeeEllen. Smudgy, coal-rimmed eyes fluttered to the tattered recliner in front of the tv. Next to that was a few(6) bottles of various and delightful alcoholic beverages. Ellen was wasted like a freshman on two bottlecaps of cheap wine. Pathetic to the max. Kaye pattered up the stairs and locked her door.

She took off the shirt and shorts but kept her sexy stockings on, only because her feet got cold at night. They kept sliding off her thighs. She kept getting thinner.

"Awesome." That's all she said right before she collapsed on her bed and shut off her brain.