This was not the plan. If there was one place on this particular planet, she should not be it was probably here… and yet. Here she stood in all her relative glory and there’d been no bolt of lightning falling from the sky or clamour for her immediate incarceration or beheading (did they do that here?). Was it possible that simply nobody cared who she was or what she’d done? That perhaps the world didn’t revolve around her? How long exactly had she been away from this place? Maybe it had simply moved on and forgotten, time was tricky like that. She changed so little that there were occasions where time simply slipped away from her.

Of course, she wasn’t an idiot. Serafina hadn’t marched straight into a party with her flaming red hair on show to pronounce to the world ‘she was back’. That would have been ridiculous and unnecessary. Instead she wore a disguise, like anyone with half a brain cell would. Flaming red locks were transformed into something darker but rich, a mahogany and the green of her eyes subdued to an earthy brown. She’d tweaked her appearance elsewhere as well, skin slightly paler, a few alterations to her facial structure and it was like looking at a stranger in the mirror. Erring on the side of caution was perhaps wise after all.

It seemed she needn’t have worried at all; other than a few appreciative glances she’d noticed cast her way (she’d merely changed her appearance not made herself ugly after all) no one was paying her too much attention. That suited her nicely because why was she here really? There were easier ways to get cheap thrill than this, more interesting ways to make your adrenaline run if that was what she’d been after. No, it was more something like foolish curiosity.

Ever since landing on Shaman a few days back with a handful of other faeries who called themselves ‘refugees’ she’d been curious. After running and hiding for so long it was something else to be right back at the place she’d been avoiding. Yes, it was something like curiosity that brought her here, where she knew a party was occurring. It was also probably reckless and foolish but what was life without a little bit of risk. It was also sort of interesting though, she supposed that maybe she’d known some of these people once upon a time. The children that were meant to be hers should be theoretically be on Shaman somewhere. They wouldn’t exactly be children anymore and would they still be here? Was she bothered by that? It was strange. She thought about them occasionally, but never like this. Why should she think about them? She had no real connection to them anymore and yet she was familiar with that prickling guilt. Guilt for things she couldn’t remember was an emotion she knew and yet sometimes it was still there like an incessant itch. Prickling away at her conscious trying to make her suffer for some past wrongdoing she couldn’t remember. She knew it and yet still struggled to make peace with it.

There was always the alcohol to blame of course. One glass to settle lingering nerves and well the rest had been for enjoyment. Not drunk, but with cheeks prettily flushed and that prickling guilt firing on the curiosity. What did they look like those children of hers? She remembered the girl had red hair and surely, she’d be a teenager now? Would some old instinct kick in and she’d just miraculously recognise them as hers? It had to be better than staring suspiciously at every redheaded girl at the party didn’t it?

Perhaps it was time to get some air or another drink… both. When in doubt both was always the answer. A glass with something bubbly in had made its way to her hand by the time she found herself out on the lawns the air mercifully cool on her face. What the hell was she thinking? Being here in this stupid disguise? She’d spent her five minutes tempting fate now it was high time to leave. Once she finished this drink of course.

She makes short work of most of what’s in the glass, but pauses her attention caught for a moment by a flicker of red. A face that could perhaps be familiar. Does she see a little of herself in it? Or is it merely some stupid trick of the light? They were moving away though and without thought of proper attention Serafina found herself moving in that direction. The repercussions of actually catching up with the girl were merely a whisper in the back of her mind. Consequences she apparently wouldn’t have to suffer as in her haste she collided with a nearby body she had not paid heed to. Instead her focus switched quickly to tying to make sure the remaining contents of her glass ended up on the floor rather than a likely unamused party guest. “Uh… sorry,” she barely glances at them her eyes already searching for the girl, only to of course find she’s lost her. With the smallest of sighs, she rubs her head turning her attention to the problem at hand, “I apologise,” it at least sounds more sincere now, even though she doesn’t really mean, “I’m afraid I’ve probably drunk to much.” That at least sounds believable. Its what people do at party’s after all; drink.

Wearingthis dress aaand the back.