Star's spoon clanked against her bowl as she took the last few remaining bites of her breakfast, a brown sugar and cinnamon oatmeal which was dotted lightly with various Mewnian fruits and nuts. It was a simple dish, one she'd had countless mornings without a passing thought, often eaten without so much as tasting it; but as she neared the bottom and scraped the spoon along the side, hearing the sliding ring of silver-against-china, she was reminded of this time just a year prior when smelling the dish that was set before her now, led her to the home she currently found herself residing in.

She had been fifteen, and the earliest thing she could recollect was a swirling, relentless darkness that swallowed everything up like octopus tendrils wrenching a ship into the lost depths of a watery abyss. There was pain. Shocks of it had come in torrents, then everything faded, vanished, as if out of existence.

When she had opened her eyes again, she found herself back in Mewni, but she didn't remember anything else before the pain. She was alone, wandering aimlessly and confused as the lights of the city streamed along the lofted magnificent buildings, guiding her to nowhere and yet filling everything with so much brightness it rivaled the evening moon and deadened the stars.

Bright moving images were cast from unknown sources up against tall granite walls, or no walls at all, hovering three-dimensionally in mid-air. They displayed the newest in high fashion or ran advertisements for the latest in aether-tech products that every Mewnian should have in their home. She had wandered for two full days, growing hungrier but unable to remember just where home was, or even who she was, other than having a conscious knowledge of her name. But she knew she was famished. The residual migraine in her mind had yet to fully disperse from after the pains, the last of it rolling to and fro, rocking her slightly dazed as she took in the world bombarding her from all around, being a part of it yet altogether feeling distant.

The morning sunrise bathed everything in a misty light. She didn't know if she was sleepwalking or part of some half-waking dream. She had followed the scent of food subconsciously. It at least, gave her a sense of reality. It was real, tangibly able to pull at her stomach, make it grumble, to move her feet in a set direction. She had walked down an elaborately-placed brick way with large well-to-do homes, all fenced in by overly ornate decorated gateways.

An older couple on the other side of one such gate had been served a freshly cooked breakfast outside by their servants. They ate on a linen-covered table beneath trees whose branches and leaves reached so low they looked as if they wanted to touch the grass at their feet. The breeze blew the limbs in lazy waves, wafting the smell of bacon and the cinnamon-sugary dish her way. Her eyes followed the sway of the tree, the sunlight filtering through in a dappled haze, her head reeling, until the world tilted and she found herself crumpled at the foot of the gate, the elder couple cradling her, helping her into their home.

Her spoon brought the last bit of oatmeal from the bowl to her mouth, leaving her awkward memory behind as Aage entered the kitchen.

"Good morning, Star," she beamed.

"Good morning, Aage, and thank you for making me breakfast."

"I wanted to make this just right for you. I've been so preoccupied with everything happening on the news reports. That school… those poor children… I'm so glad you're here and safe with us."

Aage and her husband, Aagil, were Star's caretakers. They were each nearly sixty years, but had welcomed her with open arms since finding her on the streets of Mewni. Although Star's amnesia never cleared, never truly knowing where she came from, they were happy to have her around. It was an eagerness that, over time, bordered on more than just servantly need.

"Star, promise me you'll be careful while you're out and about in the marketplace? Report anything strange?"

"You won't have to worry. I'll have my eyes and ears open."

"I don't know what we'd do without you, Star. Things seem to be getting out of hand with those… radicals."

"Aage," Star sighed gently, a glimmer of sympathy in her eyes, "don't worry."

"I know, you're right, Star. I should stop talking about it, not on today of all days. This is a special day for us. Do you know why?"

Aage's question was easy to answer, but Star didn't know exactly why the question had been asked. Aage's smile was as wide as her face could manage, the creases along the edges of her mouth looking youthful again.

"Yes, of course. How could I forget the day you and Aagil found me? Without you, I don't know where I'd be right now."

"That day changed our lives forever and we're so happy to still have you with us."

Star took a bite of the crisp bacon on the plate beside her, forgetting her manners momentarily as she spoke while still chewing.

"I just wish I remembered more."

Aage waved her hand to dismiss Star's concerns as she would a gnat.

"It's been a year now. Aagil and I wanted to celebrate by…giving you some gifts. You're sweet sixteen."

Star's eyes widened as they darted up quickly from the last piece of bacon she'd slipped into her face, surprised at the suggestion, and curious. She swallowed quickly.

"Gift? But you've done more than enough for me!"

"Oh posh, Star, don't be ridiculous. Today is a very special day!"

As soon as Star had drank the last of her juice, Aage quickly took her hand into her own, much like a friend unable to hold back any longer, pulling to guide her towards her surprise. It seemed more of a commanding grasp than Star was used to feeling, not a suggestion.

They had walked down a long hallway clothed with a velvet carpet runner. They were heading towards the bedrooms, specifically their master suite.

Star tentatively took the few steps required to cross the threshold of the ample room. It was every bit as gaudy as a cathedral, with marbled floors surrounding a large bath able to hold more than just one. Glossy purple drapery hung at every long windowpane, and a massive four poster bed rested presumptuously in the center of the room, covered in Mewni's most expensive silks.

Such finery didn't set Star's nerves on end. She was more than accustomed to lavish adornments, but the room itself made her terribly uneasy, almost sending a shiver through to her bones the few times she entered.

Aagil had been waiting at the edge of the bed.

Star jumped slightly at the unexpected touch of hands placed softly upon her shoulders. Aage squeezed gently as she helped coax Star the rest of the way into the bedroom.

The older couple brought her over to a floor-length mirror, across from which was a gilded lion-foot stool.

"Please have a seat," Aage smiled, her hands sliding down to Star's waist and ushering her towards it.

She did as she was bid and sat delicately upon the spinning stool, careful not to crease her dress nor to spin the stool as she sat. She crossed her white stockinged legs and tucked them up neatly beneath her, folding her hands into the crook of her lap. It was as if she were going to pose for a painter who would capture the nature of her innocence, the purest part of herself that she instinctively was blocking with the position of her body. She made herself smaller with the way she closed her limbs against her frame. Her eyes, large as they were, only amplified her smallness.

"Wait here," Aagil winked, his eyes glimmering with a hearty smirk of their own. "I have a splendid surprise for you, my Starling."

Star's pale cheeks took on a tint of rosey pink. "Oh, you don't have to give me anything. Just being with you both is more than enough for me, Aagil."

Aagil went to the wardrobe and swung open the mahogany doors, seeking about inside. Every so often he would peek around the side with an impish grin, checking to see if Star was still watching and waiting, the suspense building.

Star smiled in return each time he caught eyes with her, as Aage started to unzip the back of her dress. Her hands were not tarnished by work, seemingly almost too fragile for the simple task that Star could feel tracing down along her spine, raising every tiny hair on its journey.

Tilting her head, Star caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as the top part of her dress was peeled down to her waist, exposing the creamy skin of her shoulders and the strapless, white lacy bra that wrapped around her back. The bra held her in daintily, more for the frill and lace than actual use, appearances over functionality. She felt exposed even though still covered.

The reflection in the mirror looked back at her with bright sapphire eyes. Atop her golden hair was a headband of sparkling little rhinestones. She couldn't help but feel as if the headband was incorrect somehow, that it was the wrong color or shape; she didn't know, only a fleeting feeling that something was 'off' about it, and likewise 'off' about her feelings towards Aagil and Aage.

The older couple treated her beyond well, like the daughter of a royal, fawning over her looks and amiable demeanor. Yet, they seemed to constantly be wanting more, expecting more, pushing for it with unspoken words but with hands that spoke too much. She knew this. She also knew it was her place to give this to them; as payment, out of kindness and gratitude, out of the love they gave to her that they so deeply wanted her to partake in with them. But she held back. A wrongness always crept into her mind when approached with taking those next steps towards fulfilling her duties to her keepers.

Aage had begun to comb her hair straight down her back, the brush flowing from the beginning of her scalp to the very ends of the strands in slow, steady rhythms, long and almost entrancing. She enjoyed how she brushed her, the tingling sensation it gave across her back and neck.

Once Aage had finished, she swept Star's hair back and away from her neck to leave it purposefully bare.

Star hadn't expected it, and when a question started to advance through her lips, Aagil left the wardrobe, closing the distance between each of them while presenting her intended gift, held gently atop his two palms: it was a silver collar engraved with intricate Mewnian designs covering its surface. Little teardrop diamonds hung from it all around the outside like a tiara worn up-side-down as a necklace, and at the very front and center of it was a gleaming red gemstone heart, the center of which containing a lock.

With her hair held out of the way, Aagil placed a curved finger under Star's chin, the slight pressure of it giving her the softly inferred order for her to lift her head, to expose her throat. She nervously obeyed, and he slipped the collar around her as-of-yet barren neck.

The silver shocked coldness against her skin as soon as it touched her, sending out shivers from its all-encompassing grasp when Aagil clasped it into place with a decisive CLICK. With the single key meant only for the deep ruby of the heart, Aagil entered and sealed the lock. The key was withdrawn, the seam of the lock gently brightening with a touch of magic before searing itself out of existence, leaving behind nothing but a pure heart orb as smooth as glass.

The collar hugged against her naked skin, never to be left unadorned again. She lifted one of her hands to touch the gorgeous thing, half smiling to herself. She knew the bitter-sweet truth that Aage and Aagil loved her, but also knew that such a gift was only granted to those most treasured by their caretakers, as special house companions, as servants intended for the bedroom.

Aagil had caught her fingering at her new collar in the mirror. It had already begun to take on the heat of her skin, the coldness fading away with the beating of her heart. He mistakenly believed she was fully adoring it.

"Ahh, my Starling, you look marvelous," he said as he returned once more to behind the wardrobe door, reemerging while hiding something shimmering and blue behind his back. "Do you know what day today is?"

She hesitated on how to accept the collar. After a short pause, which felt like several minutes to her, she realized that Aagil had asked a question she hadn't paid attention to.

She jabbered out, "I don't know?"

Aagil waved a hand to brush off her worry, then revealed what he was hiding behind his back: an elegant blue evening gown with white lacy ruffles along all of the edges. When the light hit it just so, its curves shimmered like glitter.

Star's eyes widened and reflected the light bouncing off the dress like a pig-goat stunned by the dazzling illuminations of Mewni's machinery gauges at night time. Her mouth had hung open as she uttered, "Whoooa," in a heavy whisper. "Oh, now I really couldn't accept such a-"

"You can and you will," Aage said behind her, chuckling at Star as she stood her up. The old dress fell in a silken heap as it lost its loose hold upon her body.

Star stood only in her meager bra, white panties, and matching stockings, as Aagil moved forward towards her with the gown, dancing with it as if Star herself were already inside.

"Come, my dear, and slip it on. I want to see you in it."

"It's too much. You've already given me so much," she protested, her words concealing the truth of her apprehension.

"Starling," he said with the slightest of sternness shading over his voice.

She immediately dropped her head, then upturned her eyes to look at him even while her head was lowered. Her eyes pouted towards him. He smiled once more.

"My Starling, how could I ever be mad at you?"

Aage took the old dress away as Star stepped free of it. What once was an expensive outfit was now just an afterthought to Aage. Star watched as the woman simply tossed it into the nearest trash bin like a tattered old rag. Even that, to Star, somehow felt improper, but Aagil was already placing the new gown up against her modest breasts, his hands lingering against their small curves through the thin fabric separating his hands from them.

"Step into it. I'll help you."

Star whispered a subdued "Thank you." She did not lack for manners and even though lost within the void of indecisiveness, she was nothing if not happily obedient, at least on the outside.

Aagil watched her every movement as she stepped into the fresh outfit that would become her newest uniform, his eyes resting over every bit of her exposed skin as it went back into hiding behind the latest fabric home it glided into. When she was fully within it, he zipped up the back of the gown while lovingly sweeping her hair out of the way. He bowed his head to place a kiss on the back of her neck, just above the collar.

Star was going to turn to face him, but instead he held her there, with her back against his chest. He was breathing deeper than before, she could tell, taking in the scent of the perfume remaining on her hair. She didn't know for sure, but she felt his fingers tighten on her shoulders, and that bulge in his pants pressing against the small of her back.

"Starling," he whispered down into her ear with his breath warming against her cheek, "I hope you enjoy your gift. Today marks one year that you have been with us. Since we don't really know your birthday, we felt this day would be the most befitting to choose."

"I do try to remember," she began, but was cut off.

"Shhh, don't even trouble yourself with remembering. Aage and I, we love you very, very much. You know that, right?"

He turned her finally to face him, his eyes staring into her own with an animalistic intensity that she came to recognize, and also to fear.

"Of course I do!" she nearly shouted, a newfound fear making her voice tremble. "How could I not? And I love you too, the both of you."

"Yes, yes I know, my Starling," he said with a sigh, briefly glancing at Aage who had come up behind Star slowly. A peek let Star know that Aage had a sad expression on her face she was trying to hide. It was Aage that continued Aagil's thought.

"Star, we do so love you. We were hoping that you would let us share some of that love with you at long last."

Through her naivete, Star failed to directly understand Aage's meaning and nearly panicked, thinking that she hadn't thanked them properly enough for the exquisite dress.

"Oh Aage, I apologize! I was so shocked at such a beautiful dress I-I could barely express my thanks! It is amazing! And the coll - er, uhm - necklace, is also beautiful."

"My dear Star," Aage painfully smiled, "that is not at all what I meant."

Aagil squeezed her shoulder and directed her away from Aage, towards the huge four-poster bed. "What we mean to say, my little Starling, is that we still want you to be a big part of our lives, and an even greater one. We know you're new to all this, not properly trained, and so we have been patient, very patient, but it's time now. We would truly like to share more with you, and you with us."

The weight of the realization bowled her over as if she was underhoof of a warnicorn stampede. While crossing the distance from the stool over to the bed, she knew she had a certain duty to perform, one which she had been avoiding and hadn't yet submitted to.

She lowered her head and watched her feet as they moved obediently forward, Aagil's keeping pace next to her own over the marble floor.

She had thus far let both Aage and Aagil down in this lacking area of hers, felt the sting of regret, yet somehow also knew that it wasn't right; their touches were, while perfectly legal and justified by society, simply immoral. They were unwanted despite her feelings of attachment for the couple that clothed and fed her in complete decadence. She tried, even, to make up for her shortcomings by being extra attentive to their other needs, and dutifully kept up the manor's rooms with impeccable cleanliness.

Even so, her servitude seemed to never be quite enough.

Aagil whispered behind her, "We want to make you happy. You are happy here, with us?"

She was quick to answer him.

"I am very happy here."

She put emphasis on the first words, but even as the rest had come tumbling out, she knew they were a little less than totally honest. A touch of foreboding had crept in as they made it to the bed.

Their touches had continued to seem prolonged, their praises of her work and beauty overly indulgent. She was beginning to sense that they were luring her into their desires with sweetness, pulling at the sinews of her affection for them through guilt. The conflict grew in her heart. She tried to outlast the inevitable, resistance she knew had to be put forth.

Aagil sat on the bed, grasping Star by the elbows and planting her onto his knee. Aage sat next to them, uncomfortably close.

"We only want to share happiness with you, my little Starling," Aagil sighed, his breath falling against her neck in a pant as his fingers lightly trailed against her inner knee. Aage had begun to massage her shoulders quietly.

"But I am happy…" Star trailed off.

"You're so beautiful, like the first flower of springtime and the chirp of the songbirds that found it. I'm so glad we found you."

His fingers continued to casually head northward, touching the frilly white rim of the new dress. They didn't stop there, and as Star refocused her eyes away from his hand she awkwardly put her head down into his shoulder, at a loss for a way to not seem afraid or humiliated. She didn't want to meet her caretakers' eyes as the intrusive fingertips kept stalking up under the dress, sending immediate, chilled impulses through her veins.

Aage's thumbs pressed into her shoulder blades, her palms caressing her back and petting her shiny hair. Star didn't register the massage, her nerve endings fixated on Aagil's fingers walking up to her panties. Her body stiffened. It automatically clenched to reject invasion.

His fingers were large, she suddenly became aware, as they probed along her waistline. She took a rapid breath out, not having realized she had been holding it.

Aagil perhaps registered this as pleasure, because he continued to stroke mildly around. He could feel the tenseness of her body as he held her in his other arm, placing his chin against her forehead. He rocked her gently as a child, to settle her nerves.

Star's eyelids were pressed against each other with such force they might've merged, but she couldn't let a single tear escape that was trying to well up against her eyes, sparks like miniature fireworks playing against the blackness behind her lids. Her arms she kept tucked up against her own and Aagil's chest, afraid to move, fighting the pain that incompatible emotions wrought.

Why couldn't she enjoy her caretakers' love for her and properly give back, as was her obligation? Why did the world seem wrong? She hated the fight taking place within her, she hated feeling weak, hated their intrusive touch.

"Mhmm…we love you so much," he said, almost as if intoxicated by whatever emotions were flooding him. "We want you so much."

She didn't know why the word 'love,' so placatingly spoken by her caretakers, settled her like nails to a chalkboard.

Her bottom lip sucked in under her teeth, holding back a tremble of voice, her muscles shuddering. When Aagil's finger dared to pull back at her panties, the panic sprang her into action.

"No! No-n-no!" she stammered, pushing her hands against Aagil's chest and using the force to propel her off his lap, keeping the momentum as she backed herself out of the room. She threw her words out to wall them off from speaking, so she'd not have to withstand anything they would say.

"I can't, I'm sorry! Thank you, I know you love me, but this isn't what I want."

She left the bedroom quickly, resisting the urge to run, walking down the corridor to her own room. It was a vastly longer trip than it ever had been before. Her gait was quick but different. Her inner thighs rubbed against each other as she held them more closely together than her usual stride. She could feel the residual ghost of Aagil's fingers as if he was still playing along the lip of her underwear.

When she reached her room she quickly spun to shut the door behind her. She flipped the lock closed, ready to flee to the safety of her bed; but thinking better of it, she unlocked the door again. It wasn't her place to keep her masters out. But then, she turned the lock for a third time. Her room was hers alone.

She rushed over to her bed and collapsed upon it, immediately releasing a gush of sobs into a goose-down pillow only too willing to comfort her and absorb her tears, to help silence her cries from anyone else's ears in all the manor. She drew her knees up against her chest and hugged them while she lost herself to a tearful sleep.

As a peace-offering, Aage had given her some pocket money the following morning to spend for herself. She waited outside the manor for her ride, wearing the shimmering blue gown and clutching a small pocketbook attached to her wrist. Her ride pulled up right on the hour, its sleek pearly white exterior unstained by a speck of dirt. It drove up without tires, hovering half a foot off the ground, glowing with nearly-neon light all along the underside, pale and purple.

Star waited for the rear doors to slide upwards before stepping in. The driver tipped his hat as she sat, the doors dropping back down into their places.

"Where to, miss?" the driver asked.

"To the marketplace, please."

Mewni's automobiles barely required drivers, but it was a nicety that the wealthy of Mewni appreciated.

The car floated past the manor homes, heading off towards the shopping district. Evening had descended, every building alit by the gauges of aether-tech attached to the building facades. It was like a spectacle, every building draped and covered in golden lights like Christmas trees. They were so bright and illuminating that no street lamps were truly needed, though of course they aligned all of the roads anyway. Shadows had almost no place in Mewni.

The car drove beneath the arc gates that separated each district, a red beam of light scanning through the car for contraband and permitting them entry into the market square.

With a slight bit of excitement in her step, Star exited the vehicle and handed the driver a couple pieces of silver. He tipped his hat again before clicking his heels and driving away.

The marketplace was an outdoor paradise. Everyone from the wealthiest of Mewni to the common folk could buy their wares, and wandering the brick laden streets was as much for shopping as it was an excuse to show off one's personal finery. Men in luxurious tailcoats and top hats extended their arms for their ladies to accompany them, the women wearing their own elaborate dressage and clinging to their men's arms with giggles on their painted lips. Every woman wore a necklace, each more stunning than the last, with matching earrings, bracelets, and sometimes outlandish tiaras. All things affluent had its home in the marketplace.

Only the concubines, however, wore collars. The more ornate the collar, the more prized the concubine, and they wore them with great pride. Often, their gowns would be well swept away from their necks and chests, the better to reveal them. Stars' own collar became an instant-envy of other girls. She didn't know how much it possibly could have cost, but she knew it was probably every bit as expensive as an entire wardrobe of dresses.

She absentmindedly fingered at the collar as she walked down the pavilion, only partially noticing the glances of fellow concubines eyeing her trinket. No matter her mood, the lavish expanse of lights and the live music surrounding her, along with the hustle and bustle of the happy people, always picked up her spirits.

Along the boulevard were several food vendors and restaurants catering to patrons seated at their tables. She spotted what she had been hoping to find. Willow, one of her friends who served other caretakers, was seated at one of the decorated tables directly next to an open brick fireplace, dressed in pink ruffles from head to toe like a child's princess doll. Atop the table was a tall glass filled with yellow flowers and tiny sparkling lights nestled within the vase. Unfortunately, Willow was not from a single concubine manor, so she had another of her cohorts with her. Ginger, whom Star often found to be rather stand-offish at best, dressed almost prudishly in a tight black business-like suit across from the vase.

It was rare to see one without the other.

Willow's eyes widened as she saw Star coming her way. She rose quickly to entwine her in a bubbly embrace.

"Star! It's been too long! We're so happy to see you!"

Ginger remained seated, without so much as a greeting spoken Star's way. She sipped her wine chalice with black, leather-gloved hands and smoothed the napkin on her lap.

"Hey guys," said Star, a half-hearted smile on her face.

Willow could always pick up on facial expressions right away, or at least was one of the few who cared.

"Star, what's wrong? Did something happen?" She quickly raised her fingers to her lips. "Oh, I see…you've got a collar. Oooooh…it's…sooo pretty."

"Do not bite your nails," Ginger quietly demanded.

Willow quickly removed her hand and placed it almost behind her back, as if tucking it elsewhere would help her to forget her bad habit. She led Star over to a chair at their table and insisted she sit.

Star smiled, slightly wider this time to dissuade her friend's concern, not really feeling free enough to speak with Ginger's sharp gaze piercing her like narwhal horns. Nevertheless, her emotions were getting the better of her, and she didn't want to hold them in. She came to the plaza to seek some measure of consolation.

"I just feel like, maybe this is all wrong," she began, and was quickly cut down, expectedly so, by Ginger.

"Not this again, Star."

"Listen, I'm just saying that I don't-"

Willow hung on her words while Ginger crossed her arms and huffed. Star continued.

"I don't want to be a 'female companion.'" Instantly she faltered when looking at Willow, her words blurting out more hastily, "I-I mean, maybe this isn't really my role in life, you know? Like, I try to serve, and I enjoy being with them, but this collar, well, it's just not my thing."

Willow tried to keep the nod she gave Star a secret from Ginger. It was enough, and Star corrected the frailness of her statement with strength. "It's wrong to force this collar on me. It isn't who I am or what I want to be."

The eye roll that Ginger gave might have caused them to fall right out and bounce along the ground, were they not firmly embedded into her skull. The look diminished the intensity of Star's words. Ginger was an older concubine, nearing thirty-five years, while Willow was newly turned eighteen. The two couldn't have been further apart in their personalities.

Ginger was the property of a well-to-do business owner from the aether-tech factory district. Word had it that he was quite the heavy-handed boss at work but desired a tough, dominating concubine that would make him feel subservient in the bedroom. His son, who had recently come of age to own his own practice concubine, was gifted Willow when he turned sixteen. The son desired a very submissive female to learn with, and Willow couldn't have been more of a mouse if she tried. Although older than Star, she acted immature for her age. Ginger often had to direct her reactions.

"Well, you had better make it your thing," Ginger presented, coldly. "That collar is a part of you now. It marks what you are."

"No, I'm not a-"

"And you can't even see how good you have it. Look at that dress. Look at your headband and shoes. And while we are at it… look at the patience your caretakers have with you, how they treat you, at least by what you've told Willow. Tell me, Star, you still are a virgin?"

Willow's hand crept riskily up towards her mouth. Only an errant squint from Ginger made her whisk it away, but the tenseness of the conversation was making her squirm in her chair. She picked at the tablecloth with her fingernail.

A waiter came around to offer the three women more drinks, but Star barely was able to shake her head to decline. Her own hand reached up to touch along the edge of the collar about her throat. Hers was far more elegant than the pair before her. Ginger's was a thick solid white gold with a clearly visible lock, looking almost like a smooth iron shackle, without a single detail on its surface. Willow's was more feminine and refined, carved with flower patterns and inlaid with small rainbow gemstones, likewise solid gold but of the yellow variety.

Star felt compelled to answer, truthfully, the heavy question still hovering over the table. Something about Ginger always seemed to force the truth out from her.

"Well, I mean I'm, that is, I…I am, yes."

"This is ridiculous, Star. Your masters are saints to deal with you."

"Why should I be ashamed that I still am? Something inside me just says it's wrong for me, for us, to be doing this… like we're all supposed to just be ok with this, it's normal!"

"Watch your tone," Ginger warned.

"Come on, Ginger. How is it right that so many of us are just here to…"

Her sentence died in the air, and Ginger gave no inclination to finish it. Willow's chair creaked as she crossed and re-crossed her legs, unable to get comfortable. Star sought her out for any type of support.

"Willow, you know what I'm talking about, right?"

The girl's head dropped, daring a look over at Ginger between a few strands of her silken chestnut hair, but remained silent.

Star continued to press her, feeling a sense of moral right, or just stupid bravery, overtake her tongue.

"Willow, I know you said you didn't exactly like being a plaything for a virgin boy to learn on."

"Enough." Ginger patted her lips dry with her napkin, careful not to smear her red lipstick. She was remarkably attractive for her age, her hair cut under-the-ear-short and always a solid, stark blond. Not a strand was ever out of place, but her eyes were made of blue steel and could almost prick you with a glance, her voice hard and cold like the stonework holding the city together.

"…and to control you in every move you make in bed, just to please him," Star dared, even knowing her words might bite her friend too hard.

Rather than explode with anger, Ginger's voice became low and more dangerous, misdirecting Star to get her to rethink what she was feeling so impassioned to say.

"Star, do you really think they only want you as a plaything? Have you not stopped to consider that your old mistress is childless? That perhaps you have a greater purpose than you realize?"

Star fell silent. Ginger's tactic was effective, if not at least temporarily, to give her pause.

Though Willow seemed to want Star to go on despite the harsh truth she spoke, or for once to become able to speak on behalf of herself, she instead unsurprisingly said nothing, watching the exchange between Star and her colleague as if worriedly watching the ball during a tennis match.

Ginger knew she had won.

"That's right, Star. They need you. You have a greater purpose than just a sex toy, imagine that. Something for you to think about before you go hastily riling up our fellow concubines on the ethics of what's right or wrong."

The weight of the words made Star feel guilty again, even more ashamed than she had felt when running from Aagil. For a long while she refrained from speaking, watching the fireplace. Willow perked up, ever quick to try and change the subject to calm the tensions, but even she couldn't clear the air.

"I really think that dress looks radiant on you, Star. It's ever so pretty!"

Star readily engaged with the idle small talk while not being fully aware of the responses that stemmed from it. They talked about matching accessories they could buy, new shoes that would match, but as soon as they were said Star had forgotten the words. She was still back in the former exchange with Ginger, repeating the conversation in her mind as the fireplace crackled hypnotically, the flames distracting her with their dance.

At some point she caught Willow staring directly into her face, and with unexpressed words she could read in the young woman's quivering eyes, knew that she wasn't totally alone in her beliefs, nor her feelings.

Over the next two weeks, Star was subject to further encounters she had tried to bare with a long suffering approach. She had seen Aage in a new light, yes, and one she could pity, but it didn't make it right to her that she should be used as an incubator for the older woman's childless desires, if that was even her secret goal.

Concubines that did not have masters were typically the working ones in the pleasure houses, to be enjoyed by those who couldn't afford to have their own. They got pregnant, as they often did, and were taken away by the police. They were given medical care and housed, carrying the babies to term in the district of concubines, which were then raised and trained according to their gender. Females born to concubines typically were kept by their mothers to then be placed back into the concubine system, while males were taken away to be housed with other wealthy families, raised primarily for servant labor or physical work in the industrial district. There were a few exceptions for the handsomer-looking males, as not only men wanted concubines once in a while, nor did some Mewnians prefer to always have opposite-gendered concubines, but males were fewer in number than the female companions.

In Star's case though, her pregnancy would be a matter for her keepers to attend to, and they would choose if they wanted to keep her baby or not.

Class was divided only a few ways in Mewni: the incredibly wealthy high class, upper middle class commoners, and of course the concubines and industry workers serving as the lower class. Then there was the class of Mewnians that couldn't afford aether-tech, which lived in a literal darker part of Mewni. Star wasn't sure why there was such a rift between the classes, and why the rich or lucky were granted the wonders of Aether-tech and a life of privilege, while the less fortunate-born were forced to live in near squalor, on broken old technology powered by gears and steam, dirty with coal fumes and grime. It was all filth, to hear the people in the marketplace speak of such things, often in hushed whispers of disgust spat out on their voices.

Star didn't know the truth because she hadn't seen it, but a single thought had crossed her mind about what it would be like to explore the region. As unfair as her current situation seemed, was it truly worse to be there? She had pieced together from slips in conversations she'd overheard in the pavilion, that the people, while kept downtrodden, were free to eke out a living as they could. Nobody was a slave there. It was as good a place as anyone could escape in.

Such thoughts had grown in number, even infesting her dreams, although she knew she wouldn't act on them; that was, until the day that Aagil called her privately into his bedroom.

The late afternoon brought along with it a warm breeze with the light scent of flowers. Star had been daydreaming as she stood out on her balcony, watching the clouds listing by, taking on the orangish red hue of the sun that teased them.

The shafts of sunlight reflected off the smooth jewel on her collar. Her fingers idly traced along the edge of it on her neck. She hadn't at all gotten used to the permanent accessory.

A chime rang in Star's bedroom. Aagil had summoned her.

She left the balcony and closed the floor-length window-doors, drawing back the silken drapes before unhurriedly making her way to the circular glass pad on her nightstand. She pressed a finger to it and immediately Aagil's holographic face appeared hovering in the air above it.

"Ah, Starling, there you are my beautiful. Please, come to my quarters."

"Sure thing, Aagil."

The holo-com switched off.

Star made her way through the upper floor hallway towards the master suite. Aagil had been in the bath. The luxurious smell of lavender had filled the room along with moist, humid air. Mellow harp music played placidly through the room.

He stepped out of the tub as Star opened his bedroom door, wearing an opulent blue towel around his waist for her, but nothing more.

Star paused mid-step as her breath caught in her throat. This was no usual call for laundry pick-up or for an errand to be run, and the blatancy of it made every nerve in her body fire off at once.

He sat on the edge of the marbled, smooth bricks and bid her to come to him. She didn't want her mis-step to appear obvious so she spread a quick smile across her face and came to sit with a hand's length of space between them. But Aagil smirked.

"Closer still, my Starling."

She cautiously scooted nearer and he took her delicate hand into his own. He moved it along the plush towel and up his chest. He didn't break his eyes away from her as he felt his way, directing her hand.

Star wanted to pull away. The tight feeling in her chest returned as her breathing quickened in shallow intakes of breath. She became almost paralyzed. There was nothing she could do but allow her hand to go where it was ordered, Aagil intertwining his fingers with hers.

"Enjoy this, Star," she heard him whisper pleasantly against her, his lips so close she could feel them grazing her earlobe. "Enjoy me as I will enjoy you."

He kept his hand pressed against the back of her own, training it to caress against his bare skin. She could hear his breath hitch. Every sensation she gave him was somehow good for him. The small sounds he made were like soft grunts.

They nauseated her.

Star felt like exiting her body, as if her mind could wander away while leaving her body to deal with reality, and she could escape from the moment. But it seemed to drag on, forcing her to remain in that place of anguish, a painful mix of shame and love in bitter contention with each other as the tranquil harp chords played to soothe.

When his hand finally left hers she sought to pull it back, regain personal control.

He didn't reach again for her hand but instead placed his against the nape of her neck. She was relieved only for the blink of a second, because he began drawing her in closer, directing her downward.

Heartbeats pulsed in Star's ears. They were her own, thudding hard as a doe being hunted down with nowhere left to run. She only wished she could love them like parents and not do the things which the world seemed to think was acceptable. But Aagil's violation was more than she could, or would, endure. Every finger tugging behind her neck applied a force that finally shattered her heart.

Then, as the sweat beaded over her brow and her every sinew was strained to the breaking point from fear and hopelessness, a sudden forceful set of incoherent images ripped across her inner mind. They flashed, like repetitive lightning, images she could barely make sense of, of people and places she couldn't make out, had never seen before, and yet somehow felt she knew. The emotions that hit her with each concussive visual blast was fueled with intense emotional connection.

Aagil's fingers pressed against her spine as her mind rocked. There was a floating teal ponyhead with a green horn, a woman with hair as white as spider silk, and a boy whose eyes were as deeply brown as his hair. When the flicker of the memory of his eyes focused on hers, her heart seized for a moment, her pulse an electric shock. She might die for breath.

The fingers still had her, Aagil's voice cooing; but within her mind the torrent was too much, the images starting to speed up and ignite, drawing up an inferno within. The voices of the memories called out all at once, so much so she couldn't pick out any one voice. They screamed for her, her name, crowding out her vision and flooding her brain.

With a surge of resentment, Star bucked back her head like an untamable mare. The niceness left her, replaced by charged feelings from her core. Her cheeks burned and her legs vaulted herself away.

Aagil lashed out with a viper-like grip, grabbing her wrist.

"Starling!?" he seethed, and questioned, all in the same shout.

"NO!"

He refused to let her go, standing up from the tub and not caring at all when the towel fell away.

"Star! That's enough!"

"You're right, it is!" she shouted as the flashbacks began to throb in and out of existence.

There was a harsh bellow as Star kicked into his shin, but he maintained his grip, trying to force her to yield. Aagil was surprisingly strong for his age.

Her free hand had formed into a fist, but she couldn't bring herself to connect it to his head.

"Aagil!" she cried. "Stop this! I said no! I will not be your concubine!"

Locked onto her, his hand was so large that his fingers touched his thumb around her thin arm. He sought to hold her down to listen to his reason, his voice coming out more powerfully than she had ever heard it before. The boom of it frightened her.

"Star! You live in my manor! You serve me and my wife, and it is time for you to understand just how far that goes!"

"Take your hands off me, Aagil! Please!"

Star shouted with as much anger as she was begging that he would relent.

The screaming of her own voice seemed muffled by those crammed in her mind. The voices kept calling her name, louder, over and over again. They were pulling her heart to shreds. She was losing them.

"I didn't want it to have to come to this, my Starling, but you will learn to mind me."

Aagil dragged her over to his bed, the fingernails of Star's fist cutting into her hand.

"Don't make me do this, Aagil!"

But he mistook her meaning, not feeling the pent-up tension of her free arm.

"But I must! I didn't want to do this by force but I have waited long enough for you. You will submit to me!"

She kicked his legs and tore at every piece of him she could.

Though she wasn't aware of it, two heart-shaped markings on her own cheeks were dimly carved out in light on her flesh as if branded there, sizzling hot on her skin. Her face flushed redder while her eyes clenched tightly. By the time she opened them again, the markings had waned and were gone.

She resisted Aagil as much as she tried to scrape together her broken memories, remember the voices, but it was all slipping from her grasp amid pulsing white migraine-light, her body almost like a rag doll at Aagil's mercy.

They fought along the side of the four-poster bed until, with every bit of remorse beaten back, the chocolate-haired boy's eyes pleading as they disappeared, Star launched her pale-knuckled fist with such vigorous force that it connected to Aagil's cheek with a dull muffled sound, bruising bone.

Aagil was stunned and pained all in the same moment, his eyes wide with dismay as he staggered back, looking at the one who had just struck him with utter surprise and a glint of hurt.

"S-Star!?"

She groped and grabbed, finding something heavy and hard on the nightstand next to his bed, slamming it against his head as his lips finished her name. His fingers released as he went down and she was liberated, crystals of glass smashed across the tiled floor with splatters of red.

Star looked into the floor-length mirror at the reflection before her, immediately not wanting to meet eyes with that innocent looking girl that used to have such purity, having replaced her with such violence. She broke down into tears, too mortified to show her face and continue hearing Aagil's groans as he began to fumble against the bathtub.

Just as Star made for the exit, Aage appeared in the doorway.

"What's happened!" Her eyes darted around the room, seeing the glass and her disrobed husband doubled over, blood caking the hair over his temple. "Aagil!"

The older woman went to her husband's aid, kneeling down to scoop him into her arms. He held his head and allowed her to help him up. She quickly waved for Star.

"Star, come quickly! Help me!"

But Star backed away, edging herself closer to the door.

"Star? What's the matter with you?"

"It's Star that did this to me," Aagil finally said, catching his breath and reaching for the bed's blanket with which to cover himself.

Aage turned back to look at Star, the jitter of light on the surface of her eyes about to give way to tears. She couldn't find the words but Star knew she didn't need her to confirm what Aagil had spoken. She merely looked into the girl's face, staring and disheartened, as if trying to find the reasoning buried beyond her eyes.

"Aage," whispered Star, so lightly and broken it was scarcely audible. An apology was going to flutter out, but then she reeled it back. Aage and Aagil felt suddenly foreign, as if the brief flashes of memory she'd had held her more to them than her time spent with her caretakers. "I'll not be a concubine."

"You belong to us! You are what we have you for!" Aagil exploded, requiring his wife's arms to hold him back, which she did surprisingly well.

"We-we can work this out," the older woman begged the both of them. "Please, Star, it was an accident. I understand, and we love you. We can talk this over."

"No," Star shook her head, holding up a hand to block the sight from her own view. "I have to go." She rounded the corner of the bedroom doorway.

"Star! Star come back, please!?"

Aage called out for her but they could already hear her feet pounding along the hall.

"We need you, Star!"

She fled down the curved staircase and out the double-doors, feet and heart pounding against the surfaces they were thrust upon. In her tightened chest she felt as if her heart might explode, her legs burning already from the speed she traveled at.

Arriving at the front gates, she breached through at the same moment as the tears did behind her eyelids. Her vision blurred, and the breeze flowing hard across her face turned them cold as they ran down and fell away behind her.

Star made her tumultuous way to one of the main city roadways. Many of the cars were marked for public transit and it was easy enough for her to flag down a ride, her gown being a visual indicator of a high potential fare. Her hand signal was utterly unnecessary, but as she waved with one hand she was able to brush off her face with the other, to compose herself.

A limousine pulled up curbside even before her hand had fully raised, the door auto-lifting to allow her in. She waited on the curb as was customary, though the level of her patience was strained to the breaking point. She fought hard to keep her exterior looking as casual as possible, while her insides spun around and over themselves like a ball of confused snakes tying themselves into knots.

The driver exited the driver side and bowed, extending a hand to assist her into the back before tapping the door for it to auto-close.

Star directed for him to take her to the pavilion.

Her chest heaved as her heart hadn't yet settled down along the way, and once in the marketplace she thought the stress of it all would crumble her. Despite her desire to appear as casual as any of the shoppers or restaurant patrons, she couldn't chameleon enough her charade.

People were beginning to glance her way. Their eyes pricked at her conscience without her even needing to see them.

Her pace gradually became more frantic, a series of trembles affecting her limbs. Star hoped against the odds to find her friends, and when she saw their forms near the usual stone fireplace, seated at the same familiar table and chairs, she panted hard in relief. She burst in on them, not sparing a moment for pleasantries.

"Star?" Willow asked with a stupefied expression jolted across her face. "What happened to you?!"

"I had a disagreement with my caretakers."

Ginger looked at Star with suspicion. "What kind of disagreement?" Her voice tinged with contempt. "You don't get to have any disagreements with your masters."

"Well, they aren't my masters. Not anymore."

"Star!"

"No! I- I'm sick of this place! I've put up with it for so long because I was grateful for all the good things they did for me. And I still am. But my gratefulness has its limits and no amount of 'kindness' will erase the fact that I'd still just be their plaything, forever."

The experience filled Star with newly found energy, as if she couldn't be stopped by anything, or anyone. There was something oddly familiar, welcoming, about the sensation. "With that being said - I am leaving! I'm leaving the manor, I'm leaving them, this life…"

"And me?" asked sad, puppy-eyed Willow.

"That depends. Will you go with me?"

Star's words might well have just been spoken in a foreign language, the shocked looks of confusion dropping even Ginger's often clenched jaw. A sharp whimper escaped from Willow like a rabbit caught up in a snare. And while Star enjoyed her newly found inner strength, Ginger was appalled by it. She was always comfortable in her dominant position and this sudden change in dynamic caught her off guard.

"How dare you." Ginger couldn't allow for Star to see her shaken, so she kept her calm, frigid voice. "You might have decided to ruin your life and your future, but that doesn't give you the right to do the same to others."

If anything, that made Star even more sure of herself. "You mean the future of an obedient sexual puppet? That kind of bright, happy future?!" Without realizing it, her voice had gotten louder. "I'm leaving!"

"Sit down, Star, you're beginning to make a scene."

"I will not sit down!"

The patrons in the restaurant startled a bit at the shout, pretending not to look towards their table while obviously stealing glances, distracted by the sudden outburst and curious if it would continue.

Ginger acted as if she didn't take notice but Willow shrank a size while sitting in her chair.

Star persevered in her firmness but with a lower tone. "I won't be a concubine to be used. I don't want to be used by them or used at all anymore!"

"Ohhh snap a collar on you and the victim suddenly becomes a martyr too," she muttered beneath her breath with a haughty air.

Willow fidgeted with her pearl bracelet, spinning it around and around her wrist as she listened, afraid of the flicker rising in Ginger's eyes. She knew any misplaced word now could trigger her rage, yet was almost hoping for Star to tap just the button to do so.

"You don't know what a small price to pay it is, Star."

"My body is a small price?"

Ginger's gloved finger rose to stroke her chin. "Absolutely."

"Maybe I'm glad not to see the world the same way you do."

This was a new Star that Ginger had never seen before. She narrowed her eyes as she sipped on her wine, then set the glass down purposefully slow, as if to build insecurity in her or test her resolve.

"And… how do you think I see it, Star?"

Star sniffed, stalling for time, unsure how to respond but sticking out her bottom lip, her fists balling atop the napkin on the table she was leaning against.

"I-I guess I see someone who… who just gave up and accepted some fate somebody handed to them! You're afraid to fight for anything different than-than your brainwashing!"

The deep brown eyes of Willow opened as large as the empty dinner plates on the table before them. One of her hands had wandered up to her own chin, her teeth nipping at her pink fingernails. Ginger's eyes were fastened squarely onto Star's, allowing Willow time to succumb to her obsession. Her nail polish was chipping but she didn't notice, absorbed on Star's every word, her own breath taking long drawn out pauses as if afraid to steal the air between the two.

Ginger's reply had a brief glimmer of frustration. "I see. Well then, Star, when are you leaving?"

"Tonight. Right now. I don't want to ever go back. No, I WON'T go back."

"Mm-hm, and empty-handed no less. That's a rather bold plan."

The older woman uncrossed her legs and stood, leaning over the table to shrink even further the distance between them. "If you are leaving the security of the manor to find a new life, dressed in what you are now, where will you go? To the lower parts of Mewni, I suppose, with the dregs? Considered how you might stand out in that particular crowd?"

Star didn't know what manner of beast within caused her to directly rival Ginger over the table. She was far shorter than her, but she upturned her jaw just the same, facing her down in a way she simply could never do before.

"I'll make my own way, but you're both free to come with me. We can do this together, don't you see, Ginger!? You don't have to be a slave because society says you have to!"

Willow's heart pounded hard in her throat against her collar. In Star's voice she heard her own hope.

Ginger leaned back and released her grip on the table. "Oh Star, I am no slave, and neither are you. Come with me."

Star raised an eyebrow, looking at Willow who shook her head, shrugging her shoulders at the puzzling response.

Both women followed behind Ginger as she led them into the restroom. The bathrooms were excessively extravagant, covered in black marble with golden veining running throughout, the sinks carved out of white alabaster like swans.

There was one patron within the stalls. Ginger removed her gloves one at a time, placing them methodically on the sink counter in order to wash her hands, lazily, while the other two stood by with quizzical looks still stuck on their faces. The patron came out, re-applied her lipstick in the mirror, brushed a stray hair behind an ear, then smiled at the trio of women before exiting.

Ginger locked the bathroom door behind her and spun to face Star and Willow.

"I want you both to see something."

She began to strip, unzipping behind her neck with raised arms. Her fingernails were painted a perfectly-laid crimson, Star noted, having never seen them before. When the fabric was free enough, Ginger slid the topmost part of the suit down off her shoulders, and further still to expose herself, not even a frilly bra there to pretend to hold her figure in. There she stood without humility, under the strong, sterile lamplights surrounding the bathroom mirror.

Willow turned partially away in a nervous blush while Star wrinkled her brow, not understanding in the least. But then Ginger turned around so that her back would face them.

The skin of her chest had been creamy and clean but her back was stained by reddish gash marks that had long since healed over to form ugly pink scars. They were the marks of multiple beatings, flogged from whips or canes that bit the flesh and left deep furrows behind.

Appalled, Star put a hand to her lips to cover her gasp. Willow already had hers across her own, the visual of pain making her anxious eyes do all of the cringing for her.

"Is this supposed to make me want to stay? Because it isn't helping."

Ginger slipped her apparel back up over her shoulders, zipping up the rear of her dress before turning back around. She didn't say a word to the dumbfounded duo until after she had re-adorned her hands with her gloves.

"These… scratches… are not from my master. These are my own personal reminder of… that part of Mewni, from the life I was rescued out of back when I was your age, Star. You're making a mistake that you'll not realize until later. It will be dire when you do, I assure you."

"I still believe we're better off there. We will never be more than property in this place, and no amount of affection from our owners will change that. Here, our fates are sealed, but down there we have a chance to change our lives, even if it is a slim one. Besides, there will be three of us." Her eyes were filling with water and unsure why. Her vision was blurring again, but she felt the need to stand firm. If she didn't leave now, she knew she never would. "Come with us, Ginger," she insisted.

"There is no 'us,' Star. If you go, you go alone." And for the first time since she'd known her, Star could hear the faintest hint of tenderness in Ginger's words as she continued. She spoke softer, almost plaintively. "Don't leave us, Star, because one way or another you won't be able to return."

A sweeping feeling of empathy washed over Star. It was so strong that she could rinse all of the nasty sneers and scathing, sarcastic comments away that Ginger had ever delivered to her.

"Willow," Star said, taking the hesitant girl's hand into her own. "It's YOUR choice, but you have to make it."

"W-well, I," she sheepishly began, then looked to Ginger for reassurance, who quickly placed her gloved hand onto her shoulder.

"Willow stays."

Angrily, Star interjected. "This is Willow's decision, Ginger. Let her decide, if she really isn't a slave!"

"She knows exactly her place and what's best for her… and the people who love her."

Star's eyes appealed to her friends'.

"Will… it's your choice alone. Come with me and you can be free, really free, not pretended freedom."

Perhaps for one of the first times, Willow was given a choice. The eagerness swelling through her was tempered only by the constant deluge of dread that filled her thoughts - that of making the wrong choice. She left her life decisions up to others, but with Star she felt that shift, the slightest touch of empowerment borrowed directly through Star's palm into her own hand. She need only take a step away from the life she knew and it could change forever.

Ginger's fingers constricted on the younger concubine's shoulder.

Willow blinked, her brief awareness of confidence, of inspiration, evaporating under Ginger's claws.

"N-no, Star. I belong here. It's safe, and we have a future here. Out there you-you just don't know. Don't go, Star," she pled, her sniveling voice trying to tug hard at her heart.

Even Ginger's face softened when she calmly offered, for a final time: "Star, stay with us. You have a place here. A purpose."

Star almost contemplated it, almost allowed the immediate looks in their eyes to gentle her, to make her back down from her passion to leave. But she shook her head.

"That's not true. Maybe that purpose is down there and maybe it isn't… but I know one thing for sure: it isn't here."

Ginger's eyebrows wrinkled as her former veneer returned full force, her coarse attitude gliding back into place like the winged doors of the limousines, encapsulating once again the scant emotions that she unintentionally had let slip. She unlocked the restroom door and swung it open with a single arm, the other still clasping Willow; and she held it open, nodding Star's way without paying her a second glance.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Willow reached out towards Star but she had already begun to exit.

As Star swung the door behind her she felt an immediate, sharp pang of grief, knowing she'd probably never see them again and that Willow's fate was sealed by her own resignation of self doubt, a feeling Star had only just freshly tore her own self away from. And yet, a hint of doubt still remained, barely allowing her to take a few steps from the door before it felt like a painful slog through reconsideration.

She struggled not to look back.

But the outside world took some form of mercy on her. There was a commotion building in the distance, breaking her free of the heaviness of her thoughts. People's voices went from startled guffaws to outright screams, one of the marketplace shops seemingly being torn apart by something that she was too far away to see. She could only hear dull trudging groans as if coming from a demon bull, and saw the direction everyone's heads were turning. She saw a whirlwind of fabrics tossing wildly as if a tornado had hit a wardrobe.

An angry, garbled voice roared over the growing din.

"There's a fucking maniac on the run! Save yourselves!"

The patrons, who hadn't much nerve to begin with, least of all after being on edge due to the school attack, didn't stand by to crane their necks. Instead, they immediately flew into a panic as if they were a mass of chickens beset by a fox in their henhouse. Every direction they flew, knocking over stands of goods and crashing through the floating musical instruments. One into another they collided, overturning tables and clutching their purses and jewelry, many falling to the ground just to be stumbled over themselves.

Star had no sooner taken a breath away from the bathrooms than she was swept away in the current of people, forced to run or be run down. Nobody even knew which way to turn. She looked back over her shoulder towards the restaurant, to see if Ginger and Willow were behind, but there was too much pushing and shoving, flailing limbs, and yelling from that same angry voice herding them away from whatever it was trashing the pavilion.

"Run, just run!"

She thought almost that a hand had reached for her from behind, felt the scratch from nails, but she kept going, bodies pressing against bodies.

Sounds of breaking glass behind her and high heels tripping over pavement on either side helped to steer her towards the great fountain. There, she was nothing more than a blond spec among the throng, nobody paying her the least mind.

Despite the crazed and possibly dangerous situation, she was thankful that through all of it, she'd be able to escape right out from everyone's noses.

Chapter 3 was written by SledgePainter.