Maurice Hall was more than they had expected. Doug had described it as: "This is the hall where students who like to pursue more hands-on hobbies, or students pursuing majors in such things, go to work. The main ones are art, sewing, and woodwork. It's a wide variety."

Entire floors were dedicated to each of the "hobbies". There was a floor overstuffed with half-finished paintings and sketches resting on strange triangular structures. Pens and charcoal and colored pencils and paints and a strange colored charcoal in more shades than she thought possible were stored on shelves spread throughout the space. If those shades could exist in fabric too…the possibilities were endless. Paper and odd canvases were stored along the walls. It was almost magical, so many ideas waiting to be expressed, so many of them given a way to be shown to the world. Mal had walked around so slowly it was as if she were in a dream.

It took all of Evie's self-control to not drag Mal to the floor dedicated to sewing and fashion. Jay had no such control and pulled Mal along after them as Carlos and Evie led the way.

Mal's floor had been magical. Evie's floor, however, was legendary.

Looms—looms that weren't half broken, or leaning at an angle, or missing parts—lined the walls closest to the back. Spools of thread and string and yarn were stacked neatly on labeled shelves. The drawers were filled with every type of pin, needle, and scissor she would ever need. Mannequins, mannequins from the size of a child to the size of Gaston, crowded a corner. There were actual patterns made of thick paper people used to ensure the fabric was cut in the right shape. On the Isle she never had that luxury. At best she was able to use charcoal to draw what she wanted directly on the cloth and the charcoal took days to come out. Here people could keep patterns they liked so they could use them again instead of trying to remember how they cut it the last time. Individual tables formed stations where one could sew with everything spread out and easy to locate.

And the fabrics. Oh the fabrics. So many new shades of colors that she thought she knew. So many with patterns to enhance an outfit: flowers, flowing streaks of color, checkered, stripped. In materials from cotton to hemp to silks! Actual silks and she couldn't resist the need to run her fingers over the material. There was even leather already dyed, so vibrant that her own attempts she'd used on the Isle paled in comparison.

But this was exciting! Here she could give her gang the colors and designs they deserved. Highlight the beauty of Mal's hair and passion. Boast about Jay's strength and protectiveness. Celebrate Carlos's keen senses and wit. And her clothes would fit them far better than anything Auradon could make.

After asking the boys what colors and materials caught their eye, the boys left: Jay too bored to just watch her measure and pin, let alone hold still for Mal to sketch, Carlos too fidgety and unable to find something to hold his interest. While she didn't like them being away, she was at least relieved they'd gone together.

It also gave her a chance to talk to Mal alone.

"I can't believe all the options they have," she said around the pins in her mouth. She was going to start with Jay's outfit. A mix of reds and yellows and browns and blues to best compliment his skin and hair. And if she had time, a version of his cobra symbol on the back. It would use the least amount of material, and would overall be the simplest design of what she wanted for their "first impression" outfits.

"It shouldn't be possible," Mal said as she experimented with the strange colored charcoal which apparently wasn't charcoal but something called pastels. According to the box they'd been in that she'd "borrowed" from the art floor.

"Maybe, but it's amazing. I've never had so much freedom to design and not just on paper." Maybe she'd put symbols on all their outfits: Mal's green and purple dragons, her blue crown around a red heart, Carlos's black and white crossbones. Another way to show who they were in a way everyone could see, not just their tattoos or jewelry. Her fingers paused in their work to trail over her bracelet with the boys' symbols. Mal's and her own hung from the necklace safely tucked under her shirt.

All she got in reply was a grunt. She was on the right path. A little more prodding and Mal would talk on her own terms. It was the only way to do it with Mal. If Evie didn't trick her into talking, their leader would keep everything to herself. Something that often resulted in an explosion of sorts that wasn't entirely pleasant. If there was going to be an explosion, better to set it off early and in private rather than in a crowd of heroes. Thank the gods the pack didn't always know when she was acting.

With a soft gasp, she looked up, feigning shock. "We don't have to patrol either. Or worry about food," she breathed. "We'll have so much free time the boys won't know what to do with themselves. Think of all the drawings you could finish. I could probably finish a year's worth of-"

"Shouldn't this piss you off?!" Mal snapped, slamming her sketchbook closed and glaring at Evie with bright green eyes. "This place has everything. Fucking everything. And then they have even more!" Throwing her hands in the air, Mal's fingertips threw off green sparks. Evie's eyes widened and she subtly moved her materials out of range. That was new and something she'd need to keep an eye on. "Because who doesn't need to eat a month's worth of food in one meal? Who doesn't need a gigantic room for only two people? And they're so goddamn snobby!"

There it was.

"It is frustrating," she agreed slowly, taking the pins from her mouth and placing them in a cheerfully colored pincushion. "It makes sense why our parents are so desperate to get off the Isle. No wonder my mother wants me to find a prince."

"It isn't frustrating, E. It's beyond that," Mal growled. "At this point, Uma is what I'd call frustrating. Stupid shrimp. At least she makes fucking sense. Her games suck, but at least they have clear fucking rules! At least she knows the value of food! Hell, she even feeds her crew. She's a bitch, but she's a bitch that understands life. Understands the cost."

Evie pursed her lips. There was another piece to this, one she wasn't likely to coax out so easily. But she'd take what she could get. Lower the threat of Mal going off. "I don't like it anymore than you do. Knowing what we could've had if we weren't born to the wrong people. Knowing that the lives you and Jay and Carlos had didn't have to happen."

Blood. Pain. Terror. Hunger. A cycle. A loop that could never be truly stopped. Truly escaped. As if the barrier had trapped them in something more than just a physical nightmare. Whatever relief they had never lasted. The red fabric was too close to blood and she could feel the slickness of it on her hands, losing warmth. It took all her effort to keep from frowning and biting her lip. It wasn't an appropriate expression for a princess and would cause wrinkles.

Instead, she stabbed a pin into the bright colors.

That at least seemed to calm some of Mal's temper, seeing Evie vent her frustration even if only in small ways.

"When we accomplish our goal, we'll claim it," she told Mal, lifting her gaze to meet green eyes. "We'll claim a territory that will be ours and none of us will have to fight like that again."

"It's soft living," Mal muttered.

"It's more than surviving."

Mal didn't reply. There wasn't a new argument she could make in such an old fight.

"We'll make them pay," Evie promised. "We'll make them all pay. Until then, we play their game and use this as a chance to get even stronger. When we strike, they won't know what happened."

"I still hate it."

"You can hate it."

"I want to burn it all to the ground."

"Can you at least leave the fabric untouched?"

Mal snorted, but her eyes faded back to grey.