DWC November 2025 Day 4; {Ribbon}
A night of celebration all by her lonesome, another birthday had passed like it was nothing and quite honestly Zalandrissa had come to terms with accepting that type of fate. Things were relatively easy when living alone. No worries, no rumors, no hustle and bustle of practically anything.
But the empty bottles of alcohol and half smoked joints said otherwise.
Malachite eyes could barely remain open as the tired beauty sat upon the window sill of her bedroom, watching the ever pouring rain tumble to the ground below outside. Too much bourbon caused a lapse of memory and whenever she'd try to recall the night prior; nothing was made feasible. Shadows, music and the recollection of lights but no faces.
Though someone was in her home, she swore it. There was absolutely no way, despite how much she became under the influence, that her apartment would suddenly be so.. tidy, put together.
Two cups were at her bedside, window cracked and animals taken care of in the sense of food and water. Things seemed to be in order, which was odd because the girl lived in a chaotic mess daily. That all seemed trivial however when it came to what lingered in her grasp; a blue ribbon.
Earlier, Zala had woken up to her hair tied back perfectly with the relic. It wasn't that which alarmed her, just the mere fact she did not own anything in that color.
Purples, greens and.. reds, were her type. This? It was a piece of the past, the embroidery beautiful and frayed at the edges but it also did not look familiar. She couldn't recall any of her friends or even family that have worn such a thing. That's what brought the hesitation of moving forward throughout the day, among other things of course.
"Mister Whiskers," off to the side, mewed a rather large tuxedo cat. Chonky, happy, head tilted and already moving in closer to jump onto the ledge of the window with Zala. "..Who was here last night?"
"Mew." A response to a degree was given, but the feline merely wanted his chin scratched. Even if he knew, how could he tell?
The Farstrider frowned in turn, frustrated. All she could recall was the lights, music, smoke, drinks.. blue eyes? A figure of strength, protection but it was all a flipping blur. With the ribbon carefully tied back into her hair, loosely installing a ponytail, the feline was lavished with attention.
For now, she'd have to be content with the lack of answers and deal with the hangover. Sooner or later the truth would come to light but until then, nothing more could be done.
Tagging; @daily-writing-challenge
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
annaxmalina
theartofmadeline
vaporwave
jacobvanloon
discoholicmusic
