writing_shadows

Deyanira was not in a good mood. She couldn’t actually remember being in a good mood since She was Taken; except for brief fleeting moments with Zenica. The best she’d got to was neutral, when she was far too busy cooking to think about anything else. Otherwise she found herself wandering the streets of London, as though she was in some bizarre Beatles video; with no recollection of actually walking to wherever she’d found herself. A couple of times she’d found her knuckles bleeding as she stood in front of a battered brick wall; or over someone lying comatose on the ground; and once she’d found herself gazing at a dragon flying over the thorns she’d pushed her way past.

Without Zenica in London she’d very nearly decided not to go to Drago’s Valentine’s party, but Steampunk had told her he hated Valentine’s Day as well; and Sam hadn’t talked to her much but had bought her a long velvet dress in black and blue. She would have wanted her to go and have fun as well; so she’d turned up with the resolution to try her best.

It had not gone well. Dey had been very disorientated by the fact that she couldn’t tell who people were; and a conversation with a masked man about being afraid that he’d not like his friends after all had not helped her comfort. She was positive Rex Black had been present; no one else in the world could pin her to the floor, making her feel hot and cold by just talking to her. Rosie had been easy to identify as she’d been throwing herself into the theme of the party fully and loudly encouraging those around her to do the same; whilst demonstrating her unique ability to talk without drawing breath. Knowing that Punk and Sam were there; even if Punk had riddle-kithed himself to look like Sam and vice versa; had been a massive safety net as well.; and she’d not recognised anyone as being definitely positively Snaggle.

But to walk in at the very beginning and spot That Mirror; swathed in green silks by the table set up for Spring had nearly made her walk out there and then. Instead Punk and Sam had removed it, giving the misty figure Dey could see lurking inside it a lovely view of a brick wall and the inside of Punk’s jacket. Then there was the ghost gate; at which point Dey decided she wasn’t going to play anymore; pulled off the bracelet that she’d been given to mask her features and stomped into the hall to drag her motley mates outside because of the problem. From then on, no longer having to pretend who she was she was happier, and even managed to dance around to the music Drago had playing.

But then she’d walked out and found Punk shouting at the mirror and something had snapped. The moment her motley left the room, barely registering that someone else was stood there she kicked the mirror over and listened to it shatter into a myriad of pieces. There was a blast of cold, and Dey shivered slightly before turning and leaving the room.

Of course no one had been happy; and the lady who was wearing the silver mask had been immensely concerned and waffled on about looking into the future (but had also agreed to go out with Dey for coffee so Dey considered that a win.) Sam had refused to talk to her about it until they were away from the party; and then had revealed that it was possible that the biggest thing in Dey’s future would be to see Her again.

Dey’s response to that had been to go to the kitchen and make breakfast pastries; and then bread rolls, pounding the dough energetically with her fists. She then wandered into the stage area of the club; and watched the last lady’s set as she twirled upside down on a pole wearing nothing but a scarlet ribbon and a smile.

For some reason Punk had decided to sing then; putting his heart and soul into it and finishing with a powerful exhortation to tell the person you loved how you felt before it was too late. Dey had been conscious of the glamour that had suddenly sloshed about the club and watched as various very drunk guests professed undying love to the waitresses and lap dancers.

Suddenly she was aware of a hand on her and the smell of booze as someone came up behind her and groped her backside. She flinched and levelly asked the person to take their hand away; turning slightly to find someone in a tuxedo was leering at her; muttering about her curves being gorgeous as his hand wandered to her chest. She glared at him, half aware of three of the bouncers hurrying towards her; and then there was a satisfying crunch as her fist connected with the man’s jaw and he collapsed in a heap swearing at her. She followed up with a loud complaint about being groped, and left the bouncers to deal with the man’s broken jaw and threats to sue; making a mental note to make them something nice as an apology.

She walked upstairs, half planning to go to bed and write the day off when she spotted a light glimmering from the door of Smoke’s office. She’d not seen Smoke in months, and she stole up to the door quietly to find out who had invaded his room. She spotted Sam sat by the desk; a glass of brandy in front of him and then recognised the ragged figure of Smoke say behind it; dried blood matting his hair.

“Smoke!” she squealed; bounding into the room to give him a hug; not noticing when he flinched away. She looked him critically up and down, noticing how thin he was and ordered food, using the opportunity to surreptitiously text Zenica with the news. She grinned to herself at the thought of how happy Zenica would be at the news; even if she’d be worried at how Smoke looked.

She ran through her memories of where in the local hedge she’d seen coup nettle or healing fruits budding; and planned to see if anything was ripe tomorrow. She ignored the voice in the back of her mind that pointed out with Smoke about Dey wouldn’t see Zenica nearly as much ... and that once more she was second best ...