The smell of alcohol lingering on her shirt made her want to puke. Plus, her stomach churned probably on hunger strike. As she rose from bed, her head felt splitting into two. So early in the morning and here she was, a bloody mess!
"UGH, talking about a bad start!" she grumbled.
"How bad exactly?" a male voice interjected coming from behind her ear.
Due to the fright, she leaped out of bed with her butt landing hard on the carpet. She winced in pain and gave dagger looks to the culprit. To her utter dismay, it was no other than the mystical Fae, Gallus, who seemed stuck at a rebel phase of puberty. He changed his blue hair to the color of seaweed which did not compliment his OOTD featuring suspenders and baggy pants.
What a weirdo!
"Ever heard of etiquette? Don't show up unannounced again!"
He nodded thrice but his eyes roamed around the room as if surveying the place. It angered her to see him inattentive!
"You're quite having the best time of your life. Hope you aren't forgetting our pact. Perhaps, you're resolute to fail so you're enjoying your best days?"
She scoffed. It is a difficult task, she thought; deciding not to speak out loud because that was already obvious.
"What if he's as far as 1,000 miles away from me or I still haven't met him at all? Do I hold the hand of a thousand strangers?"
"Quick advice, the one you seek isn't so far nor so near. Well, bye-bye. Sweetheart, tick-tock!"
"He---" she trailed off because Gallus vanished before she could reach his arm.
Dissipated in thin air might be the right term.
Several questions have been bugging her since the whole absurdity began. First, the red string of fate still sounds fictitious. She cannot help but think if she was chasing something nonexistent. Another thing was how much of a bother bringing the ancient nemesis of fates everywhere. Truth be told, the rusty scissor failed to live up to its name. Most importantly, the prick was gone without giving her any means to contact him.
In order to devise her next plans, she risked taking a bubble bath.
Now that she has time to reflect, she wondered why she recalled nothing from last night after she drank the seven shots of retribution. These faint memories are all she could remember: wobbly, zigzag walking, sight of surroundings dancing in waves and the feeling of the ground quaking.
Flashes of events unfolded in her mind.
Under the table, she huddled herself on the tight space while hugging her knees. She sniveled three consecutive times then stopped for a deep exhale in a repetitive pattern. She kept her head down and only looked up when the tablecloth was lifted by Lark. He crouched to see her at eye level.
"Let me guide you, Lad--- I mean, Care."
He extended his hand to urge her to come out. She growled and whisked his hand away. In her eyes, the surroundings danced in waves thus she rather be stuck in that area.
"Don't wanna!" she objected in slurred speech.
Care immediately got up from her laid back position in the tub. Dread was written on her face.
"What did I do last night?!" she shrieked, horrified.