Chatterbox: Inkwell

The cloak. The cape, or whatever she wished to call it--it didn't really matter, for it carried no name other than the name of it's hood, which served as it's crown, it's namegiver. 

Her hands ran over it. She was only a child, but she could still see things. When she touched it's fabric, she, for an instant, could see a red-checkered tablecloth tucked into a picnic basket. She could see the curve of trees, which became the curve of a flower's stem held in a child's--or was it a wolf's?--hand. 

Then the flower disappeared, leaving the hand holding an axe. Her eyes travelled up it's handle, all the way to it's gleaming head. The gleam of steel became the gleam of light on fangs. Her gaze travelled into the beast's mouth, where there was only darkness. 

And the memories ended.

Her cloak remained her protector, her caregiver--but it also held a reminder now. It held memories of open jaws and waiting in the dark. It carried her when she was scared, but it also threw the truth at her. 

She--

"Thiiirty?" The story dissolved. Narrator Thirty-Three scowled. She could already see Icy in the mirror. Lovely. "Yes?" Thirty asked, fighting to maintain her attitude. With others, she could snap and inform them how horrified they should be after ruining her narration. But with Icy? She had to live with Icy, and making Icy feel the horror that she deserved wouldn't be fair.

"Watcha reading?" Icy asked. Thirty inhaled and closed her eyes before turning away from her mirror to meet Icy's blue-eyed gaze. Thirty smiled--just barely. "Oh. It's a classic, really, but not many know of it." Thirty began. "...What is it?" Icy asked. "The chatterboxer wished to know the title of a classic book, which was a favorite among narrators--" Thirty began.

"Aaand the name of the book was?" Icy prompted. "After the Ball." Thirty muttered.

"Right! Thanks, Thirty. It sounds interesting...and old. I'll be sure to check it out." Icy chattered. "Also, have you seen the hairbrush?" Icy asked. Thirty sighed. "Did you check the bathroom?" "Ye--nope, actually. I'll go look." 

Thirty watched Icy leave, then sighed, yet again. "The interruption of the classic story was uncalled for--a crime against every book that was written from the soul. The chatterboxer would, however, be treated with mercy for her crimes, as kindness must be shown on occasion." Thirty narrated as she turned toward her mirror again, becoming a captive of her own narration once more.

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Hey! If you've read this far, uh, congrats? I know that this is a really random post, but I felt the need to write, as well as post it on here. I'm getting to know N33, as my AE, even more through writing, but there hasn't really been a purpose for me to write in story form at the AE ball, and I didn't feel like it would fit on the Let's Play House thread too well (though I may post there in the future). The result is this--and I'm also going to be posting more writing involving me & Thirty on this thread in the future.

Thanks for reading! 

A disclamer, specifically for the Admins: After the Ball isn't a real story--I would never actually post things from a real story on the Chatterbox, other than small quotes.