thecapitol | [open]

WHO| Glinda and whomever might come across her
WHAT| Glinda gets drunk off her bubble
WHERE| District 9 Suite and Capitol bar
WHEN| A couple days after valentines
WARNINGS| Drunkenness and reminiscing on the arena

She'd sat in her room for hours in the outfit she'd been put into that morning.

Glinda had spent the last few days in seclusion since making a fool of herself on her first outing out since leaving the Arena. But unfortunately every time she closed her eyes she had nightmares. It was of herself, a wicked witch, one who used dark magicks and killed people and took no kindness or joy in the world and sought only greed and evil.

She found her feet bringing her out of the tribute suite and into the Capitol's streets.

The witch didn't know where she was going but she knew that she needed something to make her forget lest she never sleep again. It wasn't long until she brought herself to the door of a tavern. Normally she wouldn't dare. She was too highborn a lady to go into a tavern. Something prompted her into pushing the door open and going inside though. Before long she was sat and staring at a neon coloured cocktail.

Hours passed and glasses came and went and now Glinda found herself slumped forward in her seat and leaning on the table, cheeks pink and room spinning uncomfortingly. She was also drinking the next concoction they'd brought her through a curly straw. Oh how the mighty had fallen, she bitterly thought to herself.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"What's so great about this 'Wiz', then? Why do you have to listen to him? You're the one with the shoes that send people home, you know." Draco gave a shrug, sipping at his drink casually.

"So everyone's beautiful in some regard, is that it? And don't give me that face; I don't appreciate it," he told her, smirking a little. Clearly unperturbed by her thinking he was stupid. At least he could walk in a straight line.

Glinda all but cackled.

"Not any more, wheeee!" She threw her hand up. "He went away in that ridiculous balloon and off to where he never should have left with the wretched girl." She didn't know why she'd listened to him ever. How easy was it to question the not so powerful All Powerful Oz.

The witch held up a finger. "No. Only some of us were beautiful. Others were green. Or little."

She really was completely pissed, Draco noted with some amusement. The entire conversation seemed rather confusing, but he supposed that was just par for the course when dealing with people from other places. After all, he'd been told he was from a book, or some such; not that he believed that, of course. "Sounds terribly exciting," he drawled, running his finger around the edge of his glass thoughtfully.

"Well, I can see why green would negate that, but little? How little are we talking?" She wasn't exactly big, after all.

"Little." She answered before gesturing to about her elbow. "Too little, though 'parently nobody ever told him that." Glinda threw her hands up in exasperation. "Fiyero was a very nice height." He had been perfect. Just the right height that she had to lean up on her tiptoes to kiss him and lovely just to lean against.

"How do you even manage to live at that height?" He asked, a bit incredulous. If you were a proper human, at least; dwarves and the like - they were exempt. They were supposed to be short. "And who's Fiyero?"

"He'ssa Munchkin. They're all short." Glinda answered. Munchkins. Never had there been a more bizarre species in Oz. At least Quadlings were a pleasing colour. The witch gave a laugh. "Exactly. Exactly. He was a Prince and now nobody even knows who he was."

Well, that certainly followed. "Huh. I've never met a Munchkin. A half-giant, though - we had one of those at my school. Haven't the slightest as to why he's still around, though." He wrinkled his nose a little before turning his attention back to her, studying her profile in mild amusement. "That's got to be quite the blow to the ego. How'd that happen?"

Glinda crinkled her nose. "He ran of with my best friend and got dead 'cause she was the wicked witch." If he had of been with her then that never would have happened.

"'Got dead'," he echoed, not without some amusement. Most of it was tamped down, however; there was only so amused one could be in the face of hearing about someone's death. "Well, that's rather unfortunate."

"He died. She wouldn't tell me how." Glinda sullenly replied. "She wouldn't tell me anything, that witch." He was meant to be hers. 'If it makes you happy' that was what he'd said. And he had made her happy.

"Why not? You're allowed to know how people die, aren't you?" Though he wasn't sure he'd have wanted to know.

Glinda looked at him blearily. "She wouldn't tell me." She repeated herself.

"That's a poor excuse, I think. No one else knew?" He pursed his mouth a little, sipping at his drink.

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