She can never be confined to her own court. Her court means nothing to her, or at least she has nothing she feels like she needs to live by. In her heart, she has no king, no court, no need to make herself being a part of something that she is not. It is almost as if her court does not fit the beliefs she feels inside. She feels like a loner, like an outsider. And so, she travels to another, to see if she can find the knowledge she seeks.
What she comes upon is a party, something she admittedly has never attended before. While some are drawn to it, she is cautious and careful. She steps into the first room and she is met with the vision of never-ending tables, all filled with masks of every size, shape, and color. She settles on a mask that appears as a skull. It settles precisely over her own, a near perfect fit. It’s not covered in gold or bright colors, it’s plane. But it is perfect.
She passes by the tables of punches, her nose sniffing each and every one of them. They smell strange and something within her tells her that she should not drink the punch, no matter how much her parched throat might long for it. Instead she keeps walking, entering each room and observing them all.
But something catches her attention, something comes towards her. It’s the figure of another holding some punch. He looks a little off, perhaps he’s had a few too many drinks of the punch. Perhaps it was a good thing she chose not to drink the Kool-Aid. But he is now too close and she zips her head towards him, her words hiss from her lips in warning. “Watch where you’re walking. I have no intention of moving.” She’s standing there watching some sort of entertainment when he nearly touches her. Sloane is not one to be touched at all, so it’s no surprise she is alarmed by his close proximity.
@Eik
