stop. look. listen.

After the Ever After.

This is not a story about stories.(1)

Stories are important, of course, but at this moment we are more concerned with what happens after, when the king and the pawns are back into their box, when the curtain falls on the kiss, when the princess marries the handsome prince (or not, as the case may be).

After all, the happily ever after is not what it was cracked up to be, and the perfect moment doesn’t last forever.(2)

*

This is the Discworld, a world resting not-quite-so-comfortably on the backs for four elephants who themselves stand on the shell of a giant turtle, the Great A'tuin, in the universe's greatest balancing act.

In the swamp-surrounded kingdom of Genua the carnival was in the full swing.(3) Susan leaned back against the wall and watched the dancers. She wasn’t sure why exactly she let herself be persuaded and dragged here, except that when the Death of Rats of all peo...creatures wants you to go for a ‘friends’ night out’ you go just out of morbid (HA!) curiosity as to whatever this may entail.

So far, it entailed a queue of colourful drinks with various little toy thingies, like pink umbrellas and plastic giraffes on sticks, about a pound of olives (mostly eaten by the raven, who was NOT invited, but tagged along anyway), and a lengthy tirade from the aforementioned raven about men, break-ups, putting yourself out there, and time healing all wounds.

The last part was particularly funny, Susan thought, in that non-funny way, and was also the second worst pun she had ever heard, and she had heard many.

At the moment, however, the part about putting yourself out there (or more out there, as the case might have been when you took her dress into the consideration, and the dress was pretty much as out there as dresses could be. She didn’t plan it that way, but it changed somehow, between the first and the... let’s see, thirty-fourth drink.) sounded pretty darn good.

“Come here often?” a female voice asked, and Susan glanced askew at a definitely female figure (in fact, you could not mistake it for anything else unless you really didn’t go out much), gold hair, coffee-coloured skin.(4) It was not the most original pick-up line in the history of pick-up lines, but it was not the worst.(5) It would do.

*

The Discworld, like all magical worlds, runs on narrativium, the sheer power of story happening because it wants to happen, has to happen. And while the servant girl doesn’t always marry the prince, some rules are not to be broken.

Every one night stand starts stumblingly in the doorway, hands pushing the material up, exposing smooth skin, fingers tangling in the long hair.(6) It proceeds to the bedroom, leaving the trail of clothes on the floor, like a path of X-rated bread-crumbs.

Susan gasped as they fell onto the bed, Ella’s lips finding hers. She reached to untie the ribbons of Ella’s dress, letting the material slide off, revealing more and more. She ran her fingers down Ella’s neck, her collarbone, following with a trail of soft kisses, tracing the path between the girl’s breasts with her tongue.

“Your fingers are cold,” Ella muttered fondly, arching her back as Susan’s hand traveled lower.

Susan laughed. “All the better to...” she mused, proceeding to show exactly what it was better for.

*

It is a truth universally acknowledged that one night stands combined with the startling realisation that you don’t have to limit yourself to enjoying them with only the members of the opposite sex, end up awkwardly.

Even in the cases when the first thing you see upon waking up, are not one rat skeleton and one raven staring at you from the windowsill.

Susan glared at them, but the effect was lost as Ella’s head rose sleepily, and her arm encircled Susan’s waist. “Well, it’s better than those damn singing mice anyways.”


***

(1)It might not even be a story at all. For it to deserve the name, it would require a semblance of a plot. Of course, some plot may occur, because sometimes it’s unavoidable. We believe quantum is to blame.

(2)Except in certain circumstances, but the conditions are difficult to duplicate without a highly skilled clockmaker and, of course, without disturbing the very matter of the universe. Which, contrary to the popular belief, should actually be avoided at all cost.

(3)And full tango, waltz and fokstrot, and, in one memorable instance, full YMPA routine.

(4)As all the metaphors and similes ought to be exact and precise, we must specify that it was the colour of caramel latte with a shot of vanilla, an overpriced and oversweetened beverage Susan would normally find quite disgusting, but which colour could be pleasing for the eye.

(5)According to the studies conducted by scientists with too much time on their hands and wanting a valid excuse to go out and actually talk to women, the worst are the ones about the fallen angel and thief of a father. If you don’t know what we’re talking about, we’re happy for you.

(6)Susan’s hair, always having to get their own way, tangled around Ella’s fingers unprompted. It is hard to argue when even your own hairdo wants you to get laid.