( Franziska — or Gretel, as she’s known nowadays — has spent much of the past year travelling Fanelia, searching for her brother. In one hand, she twirls a thin bone, not dissimilar to one that might have come from a chin. In the other, there’s an almost childish drawing of a somber looking gray-haired man, dressed in drab brown rags much like Gretel herself.
Should anyone so much as spare a glance in Gretel’s direction, she’ll make an approach. She’s had to grow strong in the time following their separation, and she won’t let anything scare her.
Just like Hansel wouldn’t let anything stand in his way. )
You there! ( She points with the bone for dramatic effect. )
Have you seen this man?
B.
( She’s been aware of the messages that float through her mind for a while, but for the first time, Gretel attempts to send one back. The name associated with her transmission? Gingerbread. )
I used to think that every terrible thing I’ve done was justified.
Now I fear I might be wrong.
C.
( The weight of the croquet mallet feels comfortable in her hand. Familiar, but not precisely. Had she held something like this in the past? She hates that she cannot remember.
Glowering slightly at the person she has been paired up with, she twirls the mallet menacingly before declaring: )
You’re going down.
( Does she know what the rules are? Not really. Does she care? Absolutely not. )
WILDCARD.
( Was there something else you wanted to play out! Let’s talk about it! Hit me up at ziskandra or ziskandra#7191 on Discord to discuss. )
Gretel
B.
C.
WILDCARD.