turn like the worm on a lure - kaito kid

[fulzanin]

WE'LL MAKE A WAY WHERE YOU CAN FIND YOUR PLACE
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Briefly her weight had to be readjusted in order to ensure that she wasn’t about to go tumbling back onto the ground again. She was quick, and rather small too by snow leopard standards. Horrifically vibrant as well, coated in pink fur with blue and yellow spots. Her ears were raised, and her ever present grin was on her face. Magic tricks were cool. Feza hadn’t any experience with such a thing prior to the brief session that the one before her had done prior. It had been amazing - sparking childish wonder in a childish person. Feza was, after all, incredibly childish. Her parties were often centered around things that would make a young child happy. Arts and crafts, coloring, and making as much noise as possible. All were childish, and all were feats the vibrant Guardsman had done before. Magic was cool. Magic existed in all aspects, in Feza’s mind. How else did she have ice powers? How else could people teleport? It was magic! Different kinds, obviously, but it amazed the Guardsman nonetheless.

When the other called himself a thief, Feza’s smile did not even falter. In a way, it was a poker face of her own. What was hidden behind ever present smiles, a forcefully lightened voice, and staggered speech? Only she knew, and she would keep it that way. “Oh, that’s another word for magician, aint, isn’t it? Very cool. A magician that, that does super cool stuff, yea?” Fluffy ears swiveled back and forth while her weight moved from side to side. Feza’s blue eyes briefly stared off blankly, mind going on a little bit of a tangent about how odd the word ‘thief’ sounded before she snapped herself back to attention. “I’ve got a super big party, a really big one, y’see, planned soon. You could perform your super cool magic, your really awesome magic stuff there if you’d wanna help! I’d like help, not everyday someone gets to, to, uh, appease the cardboard box gods.” Firmly she nodded her head, justifying her statement. Feza bounded a pace away, back towards her home, likely expecting for the thriving youth to simply follow her.

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THE EMPTY CHAIRS WILL BE RESERVED FOR OUR PITY