Fanfare Finished Solo Post Masquerade

Tonight was supposed to be a special night. It was the birthday of a friend- her feline companion Schrödinger. He had turned four years old today- which is very old in cat years. Tonight was supposed to be special- it was special, but like all balls before this one, it had ended in flames. Unlike the prior balls, this one also ended in the loss of something. Some lost their shoes, some lost their masks. And the unlucky lost their lives.

Xailah lost something as well, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it, at this moment in time. All she knew is that she felt very sad. Very empty. She wasn't sure what she was feeling. She had felt the cold grasp of sadness before- but...this was a different sad. Or at least felt like a different type of sad. It was the kind of sad that, upon the realization of being sad, you would begin to feel hollow. Yes, hollow. Like a part of you was no longer to be found.

And it hurt. When putting her pet to bed, each step taken to the common room, was one weighed by guilt. "Goodnight friend." The cat had been fast asleep. Tonight's events had been more than physically tiring. His limp grey body, was placed snuggly in a nest of sheets. She tucked her companion in, before giving him a pat on the head. "Dream of fat mice, and other wonderful things."

She would lay the shattered remains of her umbrella next to her nightstand. It was a great shame that the thing had to break. But she figured that it was about time she got a new one. A gentle smile would fall upon her face, as she took her leave. Taking one more peek through the door, the smile would fade, as she scanned each empty bed. She hoped her dorm mates were alright. Yes, they could be annoying at times, but she could never wish ill will upon any of them.

She pursed her lips, and closed the door quietly. The hazy golden glow of her eyes, glossed over the stone floor, as she made her way down to the Prefect's Bathroom; slotted pupils pulsing behind a twisted, Cheshire mask. Getting the position of prefect was quite a shock actually; she immediately assumed that Hogwarts had very low expectations when searching for authority figures. She was given power that she did not deserve, but it was power that she wanted. She wasn't a good prefect, or person for that matter by any means, but that being said; she wasn't entirely bad either.

If anything, she was simply trouble. It was in her nature to stumble upon trouble. Being prefect would not change that fact. What prefect did change, where the ways she could get in trouble. The chances were hopefully lower now, since she figured that many people viewed prefects as, those who could do no wrong. Xailah found the prefects bathroom to be a rather nice place. It was big and spacious, like a majority of the rooms in her own home. She hated the statue at the entrance though. She found it mildly disturbing- like it could see right through her, and see all the bad things she had done.

She would press herself against the nearest wall, in order to get as far away as possible from the chiseled stone. Upon entering the bathroom, she was greeted by a fanfare of trumpets. The unexpected noise scared her badly. She nearly jumped out of her skin. Someone had left the phonograph playing. The repetition of the trumpets was disturbing. She didn't want to hear them. So she lifted the pin, and put the record away.

She was left in a lonely silence. The room itself was very cold. And very dark. The only source of light was from the moon, as it peered through the rose-tinted shards of a stained-glass window. Rose tint my world. The room reflected the soft pink color, dyeing everything in a dusty-rose. Xailah drew some bathwater, before taking a seat at a nearby vanity mirror. She removed her grinning cat mask, and laid it down on the cold stone of the counter. She folded her hands, and brought them to her face to use them as a rest, for her chin.

She stared into her reflection. Her yellow irises danced around a slotted pupil, before melting into the emptiness of the room. She was just beginning to realize how alone she really was in this world. In this room. In this life. To fill in the silence, she began to hum a haunting tune (see music above) She would never know the name of the song- in fact she had only heard the enchanting melody once, in passing.

She remembered that she was walking with her mother. For some reason- she couldn't remember why; they had gone into a shop that contained little gadgets. The shop had a silver music box, that sat in the window. The box played many songs, but the only one that stuck, was a very eerie one. Xailah held on to that memory for a moment, until began brushing through her silky locks of hair. The dark waterfall, cascaded down her back, the fringe fell to frame her face. Her face. Her face was so pale. Like the finest china. She had a pretty face, though she didn't know it. No one ever told her she was pretty- well her mother always did, but that was what mothers were supposed to do, right? She had a pretty face, like that of an angel- but possessed the eyes of a demon.

Vanity was her greatest sin- and her favorite out of the seven. Well, that and greed. She had always been a sucker for things that she couldn't have. Remembering this, she would be reminded that she was in possession of some items. She took out the objects that she had confiscated from the giant at the ball, and laid them upon the smooth surface of the vanity. She had not found much. The item that caught her eye first, was one wrapped up in a small cloth.

Upon unwrapping the cloth, she would find bits of some sort of cake. The dense cake had been partially squished, and was now growing crumby. She didn't recall seeing a cake like this at the Masquerade, but to be fair, she was only at the food tables for about a minute. She poked at it a bit, sniffed it- it smelt sweet. She pulled a small piece off of it, and examined it before popping it in her mouth. It wasn't the best thing in the world. Wasn't the worst either. If anything it was very underwhelming.

Bored with the cake, she wrapped it up, and returned it to her pocket. The next item she pulled, was a small wizard photo of a blonde girl. She was very pretty. Xailah wondered who the girl was. How was she relevant to the part-giant? Was she a friend? A family member? The photo began to tremble in her hand. She hadn't thought of that. The Part-Giant probably had a family- a mother and father, just like she did. He was no different than she was. She could feel the color begin to fade from her person, she could feel her inky pupils drawing themselves into nearly invisible lines; a quick glance in the mirror, and she would see a washed-out shell of herself.

She would tuck the picture away, as tears started to form in her eyes. She would then produce the last item. It was wrapped in a cloth as well, but this one was tied with a ribbon. She undid the ribbon, allowing the silky material to fall from the object it was containing. She found herself holding a small burlap doll.

Her humming would come to a sudden halt. She gasped, letting the thing fall from her hand, and on to the cold stone. Was it like one of the dolls found in the forest? She flinched at the small object. If it was, she needed to take it. She needed to keep it safe. This was one doll, that Griffith would not be getting a hold of. She would gingerly pick the doll up, cradling it in the palm of her hands.

It was then, she completely broke down. She didn't understand why she felt so bad; why she felt so guilty. She should have been grateful for being able to continue living. That could have been her, laying on a blackened, ballroom floor. She made it, the half-giant didn't, it was quite simple really. She was just smarter- and much luckier than he was. He had hurt so many people. So why did she cry for him- for anyone? That, would be one of the many questions that would go unanswered on this night.