[color=lightskyblue]𝕎 𝕚 𝕝 𝕝 𝕠 𝕨[/color] “You’re [i]absolutely sure[/i] you want to go?” “Yes.” “You’re not gonna do anything stupid or dangerous, even if everyone else is doing it, because you know better?” “Of course.” “You’re not gonna drink any beer because I [i]know[/i] they’ll have beer there, and you still think it tastes awful ever since I gave you a sip of one two years ago?” “Still awful.” “And if anything bad [i]does[/i] happen, anyone makes you uncomfortable or anything like that, what’ll you do?” “Ghost up, fly home.” “Okay then.” Lloyd claps his hands together and gives his daughter a smile. “You are [i]officially[/i] allowed to go to the Charles boy’s party.” Some people would call this ‘bad parenting’. Lloyd Dendry has long stopped pretending that he has any control over his daughter’s desires or actions. She explores condemned buildings and abandoned facilities for fun. Her fear response is almost nonexistent in mundane situations. Trying to ground her is a futile effort. Lloyd does not want to risk severely harming his relationship with his daughter, for fear that she might fly away and never come back to him. Thus, he lets her do what she wants, to temper her own limits for outings through personal experience. So far, it’s worked out alright. She is familiar with her own limits. For tonight’s event, Willow has dressed herself in a navy blue turtleneck, slim black pants, small dress shoes intended for young men - she doesn’t like high heels - and to top it all off, one of her many ‘grandmother coats’, long and black and adorned with faded floral patterns, with gray-speckled fur along the collar and cuffs. She [i]loves[/i] coats like this. She currently has 38 in her wardrobe. The collection grows every year. “Love you, sweetie. Be good.” Lloyd leans over the antique store counter and kisses Willow on her forehead. She closes her eyes and smiles. She steps and turns away, and in an instant, shifts into her ethereal form, leaps off the floor, and phases through the ceiling, up and out of the Rustic Palace. Lloyd rapidly taps his fingers on the counter as his anxiety immediately begins to stir once more. … She soars as a wisp through the evening air, fast-approaching her destination, the Charles Estate. Willow has never formally [i]met[/i] Chad Charles. The two belong to drastically different social circles, after all. But yet he knows her name, and has even said hello to her once in a very blue moon. Those few pleasant experiences were enough to make the girl feel comfortable attending this soirée. But besides simple entertainment, Willow had a more direct reason for being present. What she saw during the golem’s attack still rolled around in her brain all weekend. Saturday became a day of reflection for everyone, staying put and ruminating on what they had witnessed. Here was where everyone would be to try and brush the event off by drinking and partying, but Willow wanted more so to talk [i]all[/i] about it. What the golem’s origins could be, if it were a being of its own accord or a Leesburgh Child brewing chaos for their own malicious entertainment - getting caught in the action with Helen and Elle, albeit not as directly as others, stoked Willow’s curiosity rather fiercely. And those who [i]were[/i] in the thick of it. The gargantuans Henry and Titus, tackling the monster head-on. Christopher hitting it with his infamous brimstream. Evelyn helping everyone else just by being there, surely. And Dexter - all Willow saw was a blur, but a [i]heroic[/i] blur it was. He was the one who’d asked her to attend this party in the first place. Whether he would still show up or not after the events of two days prior was up in the air, however. She certainly hopes to see him there, so she can tell him he did a good job. Willow arrives at the Charles Estate, the building bursting with lights and life, yet still in the party’s adolescence. She’s rarely one of the first people to arrive at a gathering, but tonight she feels very [i]eager[/i], so early she is. She touches down and recorporealizes near the walk to the front door. “Willow! Hey!” Chad Charles’ voice sounds boisterously from above. “Flyin’ and stylin’, nice! Good to see ya!” She looks up at him, smiles, and waves. Somehow she always feels a little surprised that he remembers her name. Others arriving mostly just pass by her. Some give vaguely offended stares, wondering what one of the [i]weird[/i] girls is doing here - and if it means Helen will be attending as well. It doesn’t faze her. She just smiles and steps inside.