Ficly

Party Crashing

It was a night to remember, a party held between Spring and December, and all were welcome regardless of House, station, or gender. Lights shimmered and danced along thin blouses and shiny pants, swirls of bawdy, colorful beauty tailored to entrance. Gossamer strings passed behind fairy wings with the varied color and joy that rainbows bring. Flower-cap bowls were shared by hard faced trolls who remembered the ancient pacts and even older roles.

From the door a commotion was heard, from sea to sky, from fish to bird, repeatedly shouting- “A word! A word!”

The speaker, a wild childling, stood confidently, all the while smiling a toothy smile that was somehow both honest and yet beguiling. Accompanied by her cohorts, of which there was three, clad in armor, and finery, while the last wore only warts for everyone to see.

“Your challenge has been beaten, by the Littlest Fox, for I am known as the master key to every door’s locks.” And held aloft triumphantly- were a human-sized pair of purple socks.

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