The wind blowing, carrying the smell of fresh air, traveling however far the wind takes it. The candle scent fading ever so slightly. The tablecloth, following the way of the wind. The sky, a clear blue, and the treats and drinks set up perfectly. One would think that a tea party would be filled with chatter and laugher, but here its silent. The only noise is the sound of the wind howling and a watch ticking. I could make conversation with them, but it’ll be pointless…..after all the dead can’t talk. Their corpses stiff and unmoving. Rigor mortis in full effect. Although that wouldn’t change much. Corpses posed and covered in wax, forever sealed in those positions.A work of art I dare say. Like a photo forever incased and unmoving. From an outside persective it looks like seven people happily chatting away without a care in the world, the truth couldn’t be farther. _Sigh. _I remember as clear as day how they were before. Tasteless, arrogant, and no regard for anyone other then themselves, well at least now they can finally be good…..they can finally be perfect. Mamoka, my most recent perfection, her red hair as shiney as ever and her smile forever up. If only the whole world could be as perfect as my tea party, controlled, beautiful, and not a flaw in sight. Usaigi, my next target. Her eyes begging to be freed, mouth covered in glue, it doesn’t matter if it gets damaged, I could always make a new one when I make her one of my wax statues. She’s the final piece to my puzzle, the final touch of art, the last move of the game. __ __ “If you keep trying to remove the rope, you’re only going to end up cutting yourself, so its pointless. Although, the sound of the rope cutting into your skin leaving it more bruised and bloodly, isn’t doing you any favors and it’s really starting to irritate me you know. Its distracting and I’m trying to think of how I sould pose you. Perhaps i’ll just cast you in that simple pose. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the pain. The wax only burns in the beginning, you’ll get used to it. But I suppose your right, I should get started on making you perfect. Afterall, this whole thing was your idea, sister. I’m only finishing what you asked of me. Though I guess you never meant for yourself to become one of our perfect creations, but even still, I believe I like you better this way. Tears running down your face, wrists bloody and raw, eyes begging for it to end, and most of all the way your silent untalking. I mean it is a silent party afterall.”