𝙽𝚢𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚊 {𝙳𝚂𝙼𝙿𝚇𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁}

𝟷𝟺. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚍 𝙵𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚕

Shifting back to my feet I walked to the edge of the stone beneath me. At the end of the slabs, stories flew down past my feet. The people below me mere specks in my sight. I looked up to the man again and his stance grew urgent. His other co-workers got up as well. A beautiful woman with dark skin and red hair, a short stocky man with a grey beard and a L'manburg purple pin.

They soon made their own assumptions. Many banged on the glass for me to back away. Adults paid attention to politics, worked 9-5, went back to children with their spouse. Many of them forgot about Arachne, her purpose and cloak faded from memory of their parents bedtime stories. All that was left was that one girl–that one girl who fought with Wilbur Soot to take down Dream and create their country.

Though many children knew of me of course, their undeveloped brains searching for confidante in the smallest image. I was much like Jack Frost in a sense.

I looked to the end of the street. The Whitehouse was not far, and The Festival would only be a right turn.

Smiling I turned back to the crowd that gathered. They didn't see it, but as I pulled my hands behind me I tore off my gloves for better leverage. Wil was the one to turn me invisible. Even after news came of the woman brought up by Schlatt the citizens hadn't made the connection. Many people still didn't know of my involvement–in anything really. I cocked my head. A little stunt to get me on the news?

Not so carefully I turned around, my feet swaying on the end of stable ground. But not before I turned I saw the red haired woman's eyes narrow, her face growing with recognition.

I fell backwards into Main Street.

Screams hit the air from the building I once looked at, the people I was facing now at the windows. I saw glimpses of men turning out their desk chair to save me, before I met the next person below them. Scoffing I tilted forward releasing my clutched hands beside me to catch the wall. The screaming stopped. I was low enough now that carriage drivers jumped out of their wagons to stare.

I released a breath. If this doesn't get me media attention, I don't know what will. Schlatt could control the flow of information at any of his events, even if there were people present. Shutting someone up would be easy, by death or money I wasn't so certain. Only if something big happened, something out of his control would I be recognized. But this Red Festival would run smoothly.

I jumped down to the sidewalk, startling a pompous old woman the color of porcelain. As she shook her head at me I wondered if the mask of makeup would fling right off in the motion. Ignoring the confused shouts of the people around me, I slipped into the alley beside me again.

I would get press for that, whether Wilbur wanted to keep me to himself or not. I wasn't a secret meant to be kept hidden and shiny. Let the city remember me.

My gaze fell onto the cold stone walls once the sirens where heard behind me. Reporters jumped out of vans at the people's call, aching to catch sight of a hooded woman who could scale walls easy as walking.

The noise finally drowned to a simple hum when a new sound met my hears. Heartbeats fast and furious at the gates of the White House had moved ever so slightly. Now, the people had set up on the perimeter of the podium outlined with fences.

I stepped out of the darkened alley to see guards in reinforced iron. They pushed the public back lest one of them fight their way in. A large red carpet rolled out in the middle of the crowd, and past the gate I could see a guard ushering in Nikki who must have made her way here late as I did. There was no reason to go undetected. Schlatt would find out and think me secretive.