System malfunction || DC

Chapter Eleven

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A Mad Tea Party

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Trees from bygone eras lay on the forest floor, felled in storms long forgotten. The seasons have been hard, removing the bark and exterior layers while making them even more magnificent. They resemble driftwood, twisting in ways that remind Jocelyn of coastal waves; even the moss color is kelp-like. They're velvety and moist, yet when she bends down to touch one, her fingers come away dry. She raises her head, feeling her hair fall down her back; the pines are many houses tall, searching for the golden rays of spring.

Lacey white-edged clouds drifted in over the azure sky, their centers as deep as any cliff face. In acres of blue, the clouds are puffs of white wonder. They are the radiance of a new page on a sky painting of such uniform color. They hover solidly within the dome that circles the Earth, thinning and dispersing into painted brushstrokes like stiff peaks of whipped meringue.

Birdsong comes in lulls and spurts, with stillness and singing acting in tandem, much like any improvised melody. It calls to her, beckoning her deeper into the forest's undergrowth. A fresh grin appears on her alabaster face, her rose-pink lips partially highlighted by the dappled light. Before she realizes it, her feet are moving, her body and mind on autopilot. It was early morning and Alfred wants her there by eight o'clock.

The trail she took was a muddy scarf over green hills, undulating with the ground and reaching to the horizon of land meeting sky. It may have been woven for thousands of years, possibly in a world where time stands still, a haven of endless peace. Each footfall is cushioned form below and the next is encouraged, for this is a trial provided to the travelers to warn them to continue on track; otherwise, the trees will cage them forever.

The home was situated beyond the rays of the morning sun. warmed by the sun's beams and drenched in gold She hadn't had the time to enjoy its beauty when she last appeared. To appreciate the stone's artistry, its ridges, and curves, and the symmetry that was simple for the architect to sketch but difficult for the builders to imitate,

Rain and sun had stolen the color from its rugged face, leaving it with a mixture of white and ashy grey. Millions of windows glowed with the gleaming eyes of a ravenous monster as she approached. In defiance of the looming fortress, she gazed back. She felt as though she had arrived in a fairy tale, much like a castle.

But the reality was considerably duller than she had ever anticipated.

She left the celebration before anybody else could tempt her to stay, not long after her heartfelt interaction with the elderly man, whose name she later learned was Gordon. Her feet were hurting, and she was afraid the adolescent she had persuaded into drinking would come stumbling out to point fingers. She didn't need anybody to doubt the party's staffing choices. She was already feeling disconnected, so she didn't need anybody to know she challenged a youngster to a drinking contest. That might land her in hot water if the parents get involved.

Plus she hadn't seen the hanky party host anywhere. No eye candy meant no Jocelyn.

Fortunately, she was able to hail a taxi not far from the estate. A slew of press workers and gossip whores had caught rides nearby in order to stake out the gates and photograph everyone arriving and exiting. As a result, no one noticed Jocelyn, who utilized her abilities to launch herself into the trees and ninja her way towards the lines of awaiting taxis and Ubers.