A Royal Pain in the Ball ✓

Chapter 15 - Butterfly🦋 Cupcakes

She did not feel welcomed. As a welcomed guest.

She wished that she would feel as if living in a 'lavish life.' As such the guests roaming all around her. Indeed. She didn't feel one of them.

As someone grabbed her by the hand -- a random person, she knew. As she was pulled and had to look up by the sake of it.

Damn Cain. Had to go off and disappear to get some wine. Or a drink, it seems.

"Hey." He greeted.

As she went out of her trance of her dreamland and had to go back to this forsaken place.

"What's up?" She let out so casually, kind of breathy as the man almost gave her a heart attack.

"Do you.. want to go line up for some pudding cake? I heard they give out the best pudding of the night. You seem bored. You seem like you could use some vacation of the dessert." He told, eyes at her, glimmering like the stars of the night. She presumed.

Oh. The pudding.

"Yeah, sure." She answered without a hesitation. On a note, or without meaning to it, in an answer of a reply.

Which pissed her as he agreed and looked so willingfully and gleefully dragged her by the hand to go to line up.

The nerve of the stranger.

She wished she could just snap his neck off and kill him without a trace.

As she smiled, as he followed behind him, trailing to a place that he famously called so of the pudding dessert.

It was an isle. A line. And she did not like it. Lining up.

But it wouldn't follow her wish to be an unfailing polite guested person and a line of sight to be an undetected, good living creature.

And so she smiled, lined up, next to the man of the stranger that she stood by to. And she did think of the people as family. Friends. One that you could get familiar to and talk around and about with.

And don't cause a scene.

As she lined up in and one of the courses that appeared, arrived as she dwelled in on how the taste might be. The smell was divine.

Or maybe she could just have a taste.
To give in to the peak of her curiosity.

And on to the other isles of lines, and 'table manners' that might have peaked her curiosity. A toast to the vendors that looked to provide satanism drinks which had vibrant colors, it tingled her tongued buds. She did not want to taste it.

They had peaked her interests -- of cranberry, mulberry. And other cute desserts. She observed, her eyes travelling: such as the Lapiz lazuli, the miniature butterfly cupcakes, and small amounts of bite-sized vanilla frostings. As fit the theme.

So it might seem, and that it wasn't that bad of an idea.

Following the crowd. She might've gotten in the wrong line. Another wrong one. Maybe it was --she was following too much of the crowd on of what looked popular and what had to be tasted before she left-  and died.

Everything she drank in was heaven, boisterously something she couldn't copy. Or have a taste in any of her wine alone.

And now she hated waiting.

It wasn't one of her traits. Nor did she liked all that much. She lined up. All she could think of was pass by the person in front of her with a distraction of some, pretty conversation which led them astray.