MISC «morose! morose! morose!»

XVI.

a/n please point out typos!

XVI.

            Eleanor having finished her me-time in labs, strutted down the corridors and surveyed the gardens for recognisable faces. Ice kissed, the children were at the blistery scene at the Royalty table.

            "Hold my bag," its barely a whisper but Venice Dalton held onto the Chanel as she followed the queen close behind. It was too big for her, despite Venice's determined huff to not drop it.

               In this bitter cold, only fools come out to play.

               By that I mean — characters stolen off a ballroom scene : the butler catering to the queen's needs, the handsome joker speaking lowly to women of wicked things, the burnout Normani who only stared but didn't join as she was no royalty, Imogen hungrily eyeing Ellie's brands — French perfume coloring air around her, sable wrapping torso much similar to other Penn siblings but only of different shade, Imogen was a tomboy species with luxury disorder, and you know what? Ellie didn't mind.

              Few words are exchanged amongst course whispers of juniors, also a part of fountain-centric group. They like to bring in new ones upon weekly basis. Eleanor always chooses to gave new flowers beneath her feet.

            There's a lot of pointing and face pulling on Wes' part so Jill made out they were either humouring a new teacher, or talking about his latest antics online, as a gamer. Kai too leaned into it which is a giveaway that the topic at hand was anything but insignificant.

           In Ellie's hand, keys are gleaming. Jillian Parker is a little ashamed to admit but she does to herself — Romanstoff royalty isn't just popular, it's also powerful. A more powerful, widely accepted incentive was to fight for who gets to sit at their table, for how long & listen to pearl dropping off their lips.

          "Listen up!" Says Felix obsessively breaking Jill's trance. "Look what I found! From the trash! I'm lucky as fuck. Ta-da!" He whips out a card.

         Wallflower Beverly doesn't find any meaning attached to it. "Psychic card?"

         "No stupid, " they say, "this, I hold in my hand, is a tarot card named Wheel of Fortune. Some idiot must have thrown it." Well, Jill offers to play, "Or they have already maxed out on it and hence no longer in use."

"That's possible!"

     "Yeah!"

High five.

           A smile is painted on Beverly's face to know her newfound friends have a newfound obsession. "It says so on google too! Attaboy, Felix!" Beverly checked too — damn, Felix isn't fooling them, it's real! A dainty card piece. It has a circular diagram indicating directions, dragons and skies and Egyptian mummy lie in its background. Wondrous —

           Just like that, it's ripped into two, the tearing sound bringing horror onto Bev's and Jill's faces. "Here!"

           "Felix! Why did you do that!"

            "I want all of us to have it."

            "Y-you have the bigger half though," Beverly muses simply.