The Quest For Dobby's Destiny Part VIII

Writer Lady swallows her initial panic and takes a deep breath. Tickets and particulars in hand Writer Lady takes her leave of the Lord and the Lady of the Drawn Story.  She thanks them for their time. It was clear to her the Drawn Story was well looked after and it would be for some time, Writer Lady was sure of that.   She heads on her way.  Out the door.

“Where are you going?” TP's voice demands.

Writer Lady stops just under the Exit sign. “Away from here,” the mental telepathy kicking in as she answers.

“Why?” TP asks.

“It's a ball. With people, music, dancing. Men! There will be men there. I'm not comfortable with this. I have to go.” Writer Lady says and continues walking only to be stopped before she reaches the door. “I can't move.”

“Because TP doesn't understand. You go against Merlin's wishes because you fear men?”

“It's more complicated than that.”

“How can it be so complicated? These men seem to like you well enough.”

“I'm not talking to them privately am I?”

“The Lord of the Drawn story.” TP asks.

“That's business. Business is easier.”

“The stormtrooper?”

“Still giddy from the flight and a caffeine buzz.” Writer Lady answers still struggling.

“Tinkletoes.”

“You have to ask. Seriously?”

A countdown tune starts playing in Writer Lady's head.

“It's different. He's there to see Dobby. Besides I have the home field advantage. Can I go now?”

“You may go find your sister. For you all exits are blocked.”

Writer Lady takes another step forward right into a short burst of energy. “Ow!”

“Silly lady. Merlin does not like to hear the word 'No'.”

“I'm not giving up.  I just don't like being shocked. Where's this ink picture drawing guy?”

“Writer Lady has no manners. Shame, shame.” TP admonishes as if she were a child with her elbows on the dining table. “The Lady with the Long Golden Hair is meeting with the Master of Inks. Do not insult the Master, my Lady, your future is still uncertain.”

“He draws pictures all day what can he do to me?”

“The last person that insulted the Master was redrawn completely.”

“Do you mean like drawing a big curly evil villain mustache on my face? Or something more like 'I'm not really a bad girl. I'm just drawn that way.'” Writer Lady asks.

“Master of Inks had his powers before 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit?'. Silly Lady.” TP giggles. “Master of Inks can recreate you in pen and ink into anything he wants to. When you appear on his page you disappear from your world.” TP's voice bellows.

“Really?   So there's still a chance I don't have to go to this party?”

“On your way,"  a much louder and more intimidating voice bellows.

“TP,  was that?” Writer Lady asks.

“GO!”

“Okay. I'm going.” Writer Lady turns away from the the doors heading into the throng of pedestrians winding through the Hall of Distractions.

“TP! Which way?”

“(sound of throat clearing...) If you proceed forward past Darth Vader and Gandalf, take a left past Iron man, then go around the bounty hunters and stormtroopers that are...”

Writer Lady walks through the gathering of armored and armed of the Evil Empire forging a path that rivaled Godzilla.

“Wait a minute. You're supposed to be shy remember?”

“You pissed me off. I'm hungry too. Besides we're not there yet. I don't do shy until I'm faced with the dragon itself.”

“Will you be shy for the Master of Inks?” TP asks.

“That depends.” Writer Lady thinks. “On how long before I get something to eat.” She stops walking and looks around. “TP?”

“Yes?”

“I'm lost again.”

“Promise to wait until I finish with the directions this time?”

“Just point me somewhere and I'll go. Tell me what it looks like so I'll know I've arrived at the correct destination.”

“Patience my lady. Do you promise to wait until I've finished?”

Writer Lady rolls her eyes and says, “Yes I promise to wait until you finished talking. Now tell me already!” forgetting to use her mind instead of her mouth. The noises around her stop.   People are staring.  Magical creatures and dark lords are paling.  Parents with children are quickly slipping past avoiding eye contact.

“AWK—WARD...You forgot to talk with your mind. Silly Lady.” She can here TP giggling with abandon inside her head.

“I know that little faerie is somewhere Rolling On the Floor Laughing” Writer Lady mutters, waiting for the floor to open up so she can disappear completely.