let's get some shoes! [r]

[FINLEY CARDIGAN]

I DON'T WANNA BE LIKE CINDERELLA
SITTING IN A DARK COLD DUSTY CELLAR

( waiting for somebody to come and set me free )

The first requirement to be an exceptional fairy godmother was the desire to do good. It was the first rule on the first page of the rule book of "Fairy Godmothering for Dummies" and "How To Be The Best Fairy Godmother You Can Be" and probably in every other book, too. Miss Finley followed that rule to a T. She followed every rule, for that matter, as best as she could, and perhaps she would have been "Fairy Godmother of the Year" if not for her own awful case of bad luck. She listened to the books, listened to what her mentors said but still Finley was such a failure! It was a sad, disheartening thing, indeed! Not that Finley seemed to notice or care - she was well aware she wasn't in the top ten or anything like that, but the young lady seemed cheerfully oblivious to the fact she could very easily rank among the bottom three.

Perhaps though she had to be somewhat aware, because afterall, if she wasn't, then she probably wouldn't have set her eyes on Death. No, not death, but rather the actual person. She was not suicidal, contrary to what many would have expected from a girl with her luck (or rather, lack there of!) Death had come awalking one day, and that was when the brilliant idea had hit her. Make Death happy. Make Death's life great! That, for sure, would earn her a spot in the Fairy Godmother hall of Fame! And from that moment on, Death was her very unofficial charge because surely if she, Finley Forrest Cardigan, could cheer up such a morbid thing like Death, there would be no way she couldn't earn a top spot! All the other fairy godmothers would surely bow to her and her amazing talent!

Her brilliant idea, of course, required action. Action that did not just involve stalking Death. It involved the actual cheering of Death and the making of a quality life. And what better way to make life better than cookies and cake? Why, shopping! Anyone could feel fantabulous with a new pair of shoes and a fantastic new scarf! A new shirt was sure to make you feel like a whole new person! And Death obviously needed that. So there she had gone, stalking down her unofficial charge and she had stolen him from his very boring duty of bringing people to hell and heaven and then some. The poor boy had never had a chance! Ohho, not against Finley the Greatest Fairy Godmother of them all!

Her arm was linked with the dreary grumpy youth, a sort of vice grip because even Finley knew that he would have wanted to be anywhere else but with her. Very easily understood unless you were Finley. She grinned from ear to ear as she walked along side the teen, practically prancing in her cowboy boots. Ah yes, the only way to make today better (other than cookies and cake) was to wear her favorite hat and boots!

"So, Deathy, you need a new wardrobe, dearest," she sang, hugging his arm in some sort of ominous warning of soon to come horrors. "That's one of the first steps to making your life super fantastic! Let's see," Finley sang, pausing only to look him from head to toe, "You could really use some new shoes. Oh and how about a muffler or an ascot? You'll be a whole new person in no time! Just leave it to your Fairy Godmother, mmkay? Now then, pick a store, any store!"

She stopped and swooped her arm in a dramatic fashion, indicating the various stores of the marketplace.

[DEATH]

☠ don't wanna kiss, don't wanna touch

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - just smoke one cigarette and hush

The Grim Reaper was supposed to be one badass guy with a large scythe and a sexy cape. He was supposed to go around the land, taking souls from people who were ready to die. He wasn't supposed to be trapped in the body of a seventeen year old boy (albeit, a hot seventeen year old boy). He was supposed to be scary - some sort of deranged skeleton-creature that made people afraid of dying. But no. Instead, he was a cute teenage boy with severe memory loss. It was pathetic. To make things worse, the poor teen couldn't even function properly without a good amount of caffeine in his body. Lack of caffeine - particularly from coffee - made the dark-haired boy grumpy as hell. He would go to his grave (haha) swearing that lack of coffee made his head hurt and his body stiff... but, of course, he was hooked on the dark liquid. Of course, when he had his cup of coffee (or two... or three) he was perfectly fine with his job, and found it rather interesting - traveling the world, collecting souls. And with a good amount of coffee in his body, there wasn't anything that could go wrong with his work as long as he had a decent cup of black coffee with one pack of sugar.

It was when he was coffee-deprived that his life seemed to suck. And, of course, today just happened to be one of those days. Then again, he was walking around the Central Court with a puny little pixy by the name of Finley Cardigan. He remembered finding her quite hot when he first saw her, but that was before she opened her obnoxious little mouth. Now, Death was never a people person - his general expressions seemed rather grim and even the slightest bit scary - yet, somehow, the young fairy was drawn to the darker boy. And apparently, she insisted they be friends... So, here he was with her arm wrapped around his own, walking down the streets of Market Square, Finley's voice blabbering away in his ear: "So, Deathy, you need a new wardrobe, dearest," she chattered happily, "That's one of the first steps to making your life super fantastic! Let's see,"

Death grumbled, he was perfectly fine with his wardrobe - sure there was a bit too much black red and blue in his clothes, but what was she expecting? Him to have a closet full of pink dresses and frills? He was the Grim Reaper, after all. The dark-haired teen let out a sigh, not exactly understanding why the fairy-girl was going through all this trouble just to 'cheer him up'. He was cheerful - well, in a very dark and demonic way, but cheerful nonetheless. Apparently, that wasn't good enough for Finley, and since there was no way of getting out of this shopping trip, Death was stuck with the Fairy Godmother until he could find a good excuse for escaping - hopefully before Finley's vice-grip on his arm didn't cut off all circulation.

"You could really use some new shoes. Oh and how about a muffler or an ascot? You'll be a whole new person in no time! Just leave it to your Fairy Godmother, mmkay? Now then, pick a store, any store!" Death raised an eyebrow as Finley looked him over. Was this really happening? Apparently, it was... and it seemed that Death was stuck. The one thing he didn't understand about the whole ordeal was how exactly she became his fairy godmother... last time he checked, a fairy godmother was supposed to watch over humans, not creatures like Death who sure as hell didn't need anyone tucking them into bed at night. And what did she mean when she spoke? Death, being not only a boy, but a phantom of utmost respect as well, he knew absolutely nothing about shopping... actually, the last time he received any new clothes, it was over a millennia ago, and it was a christmas present from his mother. "What the hell is the difference?" Death asked, shrugging his shoulders. The stores all looked the same from the outside... at least to a teenage boy's mind like Death's, "And what is a muffler... or an ascot" he blinked a couple times before adding: "is it some kind of food?"

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[FINLEY CARDIGAN]

I DON'T WANNA BE LIKE CINDERELLA
SITTING IN A DARK COLD DUSTY CELLAR

( waiting for somebody to come and set me free )

Too much red? Too much black? Ha! Too was much too kind of a word. Finley had seen more colors at a funeral than on Death. Sure, black went with anything, but it wasn’t one of those colors you wore all the time all year around. It was like wearing white after labor day, but much worse! The red was nice, but he needed more colors than just black. Maybe a gray, or some white! Wasn’t white suppose to be death and all that in those Eastern countries? She scanned him over, very much like one would examine prey. A yellow probably wouldn’t look bad on him – a yellow scarf with a white shirt and some jeans! Already he was looking better in her mind! He could probably pull off green, too. Now that she thought about it, she probably needed to take a certain other shopping, for more than just green.

She kept her arm laced with his, loosening only slightly as her mind wandered. What else would help make his life better? What would make him truly happy? One of the obvious answers was probably her leaving his side, but that was one of those things that would be impossible to drill into Finley’s – very flaky – mind. Coffee… coffee… coffee made him happy! Yes, that was it! That was but one secret to happiness for Death! Coffee! Clothes first, clothes had to come first. They were much better than coffee, and they didn’t stain your teeth either! Just your whites, but that was an entirely different subject. This idea reached her just as he demanded what the difference was and inquired as to what an ascot and scarf was. The gears in Finley’s head came to a creaking stop, and she looked to him. And she looked at him in one of those ways Finley had no right to look at people like. It was a very obvious “are you stuuuupid?” face. She gave a sigh of exasperation. Who knew Death could be so tiring!

“We’re shopping for clothes, not food, Death,” she answered, very clearly annoyed. Her eyes rolled, but then, remembering her fairy godmother lessons, seemed to soften up with her expression. Death was clearly a sheltered, angsty boy who wrote poetry in the corner of his room. He was also old. It was understandable that he might not know what such things were! She had to be patient – patience was but one of many requirements in the books! – and understanding. A smile, as sympathetic as she could get it – though it made her like her smile before she committed suicide or something like that – formed on her face. “Well you, see, Death, a muffler is a scarf. But usually a little shorter and wider. And an ascot is a tie, but shorter. Now then, let’s go here first!” And at that, Finley dragged Death to his own death, heading into a store reading “THE UNIQUE LION” in large, fancy letters. The inside of the store was rather nice, with various clothing racks set up, and the contents of it were clearly aimed towards the male crowd.

Finley began searching about, tugging Death with her. “After this, we can get coffee. And I’ll pay!” she stated, grabbing various clothes for him to try on. A red shirt, a white shirt, a lovely blue button up, a pair of slacks, a vest, a coat – and she piled each one onto her very unfortunate phantom friend.

"Go try these on now and show me how each one looks!"

[DEATH]

☠ don't wanna kiss, don't wanna touch

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - just smoke one cigarette and hush

Death really had no idea how he'd been dragged into this. And when Finley mentioned that they weren't shopping for food, but clothes, just made Death hungrier than he had been minutes before. He rolled his eyes when Finley dragged him into a strange store he'd never remembered seeing before. Then again, he never really went shopping before this. He let out a large yawn when she pulled him through the door. Oh how he wished he had some coffee right about now. Finley was driving him insane!

The dark-haired teen attempted to pull away, but it seemed like a most impossible task when the door was only so large, and the strange scent of cinnamon had his nose twitching like mad. Death didn't understand why she insisted to give him a new look, he was rather happy with the one he had right now, and the fact that Finley was dragging him around like a toy... or another girl to shop with... was making Death's head spin. "Why would I wear a scarf?" he cocked his head to the side in question. Being a normal male (or so he liked to think of himself), the young Grim Reaper honestly had no idea why he would wear a scarf when it wasn't even winter. What was the point, anyway?

And it wasn't like his job even required wearing a tie, so why would he find it necessary to buy an ascot? There were some girls that Death just didn't understand, and Finley was one of those girls. She looked so innocent on the outside, but on the inside, she was just as much of a devious child as he was. Finley led him to a rack of clothes, to any fashionista the clothes would look as masculine as anything, but to Death, the clothes Finley started piling in his arms looked like they came straight out of a lesbian's wardrobe. "Fin, babe, I'm not a chick,"

[/color] he reminded her as she tossed a shirt into his arms that he could have sworn had some kind of ruffles on it or something.

But the second Finley mentioned 'coffee', Death gave her a wide smirk (he wasn't really sure he even knew how to 'smile'), "Coffee? he asked, wide-eyed, before staring down at the hideous pile of clothes Finley had given him. Perhaps they weren't so bad, after all... So, uh, were's the dressing room in this place?" he asked, not really sure he wanted to strip and try on every outfit in front of his fairy godmother friend. As long as he had something to look forward to after all this girly stuff, Death was surprised how much he didn't mind at all...
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[FINLEY CARDIGAN]

I DON'T WANNA BE LIKE CINDERELLA
SITTING IN A DARK COLD DUSTY CELLAR

( waiting for somebody to come and set me free )

(This is like ridiculously late and I am amazed at your patience. I'm so sorry for both lateness and shortness. orz)

“Because it looks good,” Finely stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. In Finley land it probably was. She spared him a glance, some sort of blank “how are you not getting this” look. “It’d make you look - “ at this she paused, pursing her lips like a fish as she thought of the right word - “dashing. Like Prince Charming.” And at that, Finley’s eyes glazed over ever so slightly, in some misty eyed doe look much like a kid in love. Prince Charming. Oh, just the mere mention of such a thing made her swoon with delight. She would surely find him, marry him - and then be Mrs. Fairy Godmother Finley Charming. Not Cardigan like the stupid sweater, but Charming. Such a wonderful thing that would be! She let out a sigh of delight at the thought. A charming house on a charming hill - because princes didn’t need castles and Finley wanted a wonderful cottage rather than a castle she knew she would get lost and die in - with a charming husband and a charming little dog. All so charming!

Finley returned to reality at his comment. She spared Death something of a confused look. “I know you’re not, Death, dear,” came the reply. Death was about as much a chick as she was a dog. He acted everything like a guy! Didn’t like shopping, didn’t like clothes, had a one track mind. He made women cry even, what with his job and all! The question made her beam. So it had worked. Coffee was the answer! His one track mind prevailed! So excited was Finley that she began shoving him off to the changing rooms. The fairy godmother partially ignored the changing room staff, pausing only to let her count the clothes, before she shoved Death into one of the rooms. And at that, waited outside.

Any time he would come out, Finley would examine with large, meticulous eyes, before shoving him back into the room, picking at anything possible or complimenting everything she could think of - “Ugh no that shirt does not go with those pants. Your ascot’s on all wrong! Oh, wow you can pull those pants off really well! Death, that looks great! Oh did I pick out those shoes? Oooo!”