The Sanctuary's festivities are in full swing. The rooms smell all of charred meat and oversweet honey and bubbly alcohol, and sticks of mint incense are burning around every doorway. The people, who are many for the small space, are laughing and talking and exhilarated at the thought that they are mostly going to be released for a holiday after this. They are also, on the whole, absolutely stinking drunk.
Crystal and Carol are here, having forced their ways into administrative jobs by playing up their ancestry. They are actually surprisingly a lot nicer, now that they live and work around magic on a daily basis. It's like some integral need of theirs has disappeared.
Crystal laughs, as intoxicated as Hell. "I'm going to ask her," she murmurs to her twin, who laughs too, and then she saunters over to the Elder Mage in the gossamer-thin robes while her sister stares with deep amusement. "Go out with me," she says brashly, words tumbling and melding into each other.
Madame Mist stares at the younger girl, and almost imperceptibly, her lips twitch into a smirk. "Certainly," she says, trying not to laugh, "But are you absolutely sure you could handle me?"
A/N: I looked at what I had of the story and decided that it needed moar crack, so this happened. :D
~Mademise Morte, December 5