self-para: down the rabbit hole
The party is filled with too much frills and glamour, an easy way to disguise what the eye is not suppose to see. Victoria is much too used to the way of hiding the ugly truth with the beautiful lie.
When she had sent her reply for the invite back, she had already declined the drugs. It was a good thing too, seeing as she could smell the intoxication in the air, emitting from the pores of each party-goer she was bumping into in the middle of this forest party that was clearly a bad idea from the beginning.
There was an itch underneath her skin that tingled and it was only getting worse as the night progressed.
Victoria looked around, in high heels a little too high for a midnight stroll in the forest and a dress that almost looked like a contrast between Alice in Wonderland and Slut of the Century. She doesn’t really care which one she is right now. She came here for a reason, and the reason was to observe. She assess and can tell only a couple of people were probably still alright, gingerly hiding their gazes with a throng of alcoholic drinks that were just as potent, but not with the effect of magic.
In the end, though, it just feels like a party filled with a bunch of intoxicated teenagers needing a night to be wild.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered coming out,” Victoria mutters to herself, sighing as she takes out a cigarette, ready to light the cancer stick resting between her lips when she hears the screams of ghosts in the vicinity.
Maybe it will be interesting after all.











