Epithet had a frail smile on her face as she pushed up off the ground and allowed herself to become the white wonder she knew herself to be. Her face contorted to a maniacal smile as her crystal wings seems to reappear out of nowhere—simply because they did appear of nowhere—and she looked at Marlyn with a sense of knowing. Finally, the cracked porcelain lady had come back to the world of living and this was something that she could partake off. Her tea may have been drugged, but Epithet knew that she was now a powerful force to be reckoned with. “You know my grandfather” she says to Marlyn, almost out of nowhere… because again, this knowledge came out of nowhere.
 
She blinked, and shook her head. Epithet’s normally composed body was almost jittery with the onslaught of power as it droned over her and made it her slave. Magic was like a drug, and as it slithered into her veins and took her hostage, she slathered a pretty smile on her face, and then turned around, heading in the opposite direction, as if she was leaving Marlyn. Was she actually leaving?
 
Flapping her crystal wings, she raised them and then willed them to flitter away again. What use were wings, when one simply has the power to pop where they want to.
 
And yet, Epithet found that as she was moving, she really had no need or want to go anywhere. And though she was in her own little world, she stood but a foot from Marlyn.
 
It is true, that magic is a heroin, and that her blood was singing with the toxic smell. She had healing to do, but for now, she would live in the world of crazy—a world of her own design.