[center][h3][color=moccasin]Dionne Fontanne[/color][/h3][/center]


Needless to say, Dionne’s father was less than ethused to have his daughter dropped off by a strange silver sedan much later than she’d supposed to have been home. “Who was that? What are you doing home so late? Why were you at school so long?” he asked as Dionne walked into the house unceremoniously, rubbing her temples as her father continued assaulting her tired mind with questions. “Did you get into trouble? With a teacher? Or even the principle? Young lady—”


[color=moccasin]“Nothing like that, Dad,”[/color]  Dionne said with a sigh, walking into the kitchen and opening the cupboards in search of something to help with her aching head. Whatever the miracle cure Oisin had given her was, it was wearing off.


“Dee,” Aland said, a frown on his face as he walked over to his daughter, “what are you looking for?”


[color=moccasin]“Tea,”[/color] Dionne said without a thought, her exhausted mind focused on the single task.


“Second to last, upper left,” Aland said immediately. Dionne followed the instructions, her hands returning to her with the correct box of tea bags. 


[color=moccasin]“Chamoline,”[/color] she mused, thanking her father as he handed her a mug of steaming water. The pair sat at the kitchen table, quiet.


“So,” Dionne’s father started, breaking the silence. “You okay, Dee?”


[color=moccasin]“Fine,”[/color] Dionne said, her mind flashing back to the afternoon when she’d nearly seen Seth Sterling bleed out in front of her. [color=moccasin]“Fine,”[/color] she repeated with another sigh. Aland’s brows knitted together in concern.


“Dee, maybe you should head to bed now,” he suggested, rising from his seat. “Why don’t I get you some Advill and meet you upstairs? You can go get ready.”


The protest on Dionne’s tongue went no farther than her lips, and she nodded silently, succumbing to the now-biting headache that was coming on. Ten minutes and two Advills later, Dionne was fast asleep in a deep— though not peaceful — slumber


[hr][hr]
[i]Dionne never liked animals much. Sure they were fascinating and interesting to study, but they had always seemed to be missing something. Something that was quintisentially human and irreplacable with any of the glamorous horns and luxurious patterns that adorned the fantastical beasts. None of their fancy decor made up for their lack of sense, and Dionne would take a dull human companion over that of a completely blank-minded animal any day. Today, however, Dionne seemed to have picked the short straw as she was currently surrounded by a large flock of peacocks that were all staring right. At. Her.


[color=moccasin]“Nice birdies,”[/color] she cooed, looking around for an escape route but keeping her actions slow so as to not startle the birds. There was no such escape route.Just as Dionne was preparing to charge through the flock, she realized that there were a pair of chairs beside her — one of them occupied. “Good evening, Miss Fontanne,” her school principal, Mrs. Sloan, said, adjusting her horn-rimmed spectacles. “Won’t you take a seat?”


Dionne surpressed a shriek of surprise at the woman’s sudden appearance, sitting down in the adjacent chair and scanning the scene. Definitely weird. 


“You’re probably wondering why you’re here,” Mrs. Sloan said, examining her nails with a flourish. “Why you’re currently in the midst of a flock of peacocks, sitting next to your principal.”


[color=moccasin]“Er, yes, actually,”[/color] Dionne said, frowning. [color=moccasin]“Do you—”[/color]


“I do know why,” Mrs. Sloane said, cutting Dionne off and setting her hand down on her lap. Her eyes flicked up, glinting in the light. “But, I don’t intend to tell you. Everything will be revealed in due time.”


[color=moccasin]“What does that mean?”[/color] Dionne asked, brows knitting. She looked around again, uneasy. There seemed to be signs with shapes of animals on them scattered about, pointing this way and that.  [color=moccasin]“Where am I?”[/color]


As if they could sense her rising panic, the peacocks all shifted in unison, the sound of their tails moving in sync sounding like the ominous beginnings of a thunderstorm. Goosebumps sprung up Dionne’s arms, and she clutched the arms of her chair tightly, preparing herself for anything.


“Now now, calm down Miss Fontanne,” Mrs. Sloan said, sounding amused. Now focused on her principal, Dionne felt even more uneasy. Somehow nothing about the greying lady felt right — not her glasses, which seemed a little too outdated; not her hair, which seemed more black than grey today; not even her smile, which was more viscious than kind like how usually associated with the woman that governed over Dionne’s school. 


The woman must have sensed Dionne’s uneasiness because she sighed, adjusting her glasses again. “Well, I guess that’s enough for today. I’ll be in touch, Dionne.”


 [color=moccasin]“Wait,”[/color] Dionne said, standing up, [color=moccasin]“who are you?”[/color]


But the lady was already gone.
[/i]
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Dionne groaned as she slapped around her bedside table for her alarm, sighing in relief when she successfully struck the snooze button. [i]What a strange dream,[/i] she thought, frowning as she slid off her bed. Twenty minutes later Dionne was waiting at the bus stop. The bus was just pulling up when Dionne realized that she’d unwittingly stuck a peacock feather in her hair.