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Once the guest donned their fairy wings—there were feminine, masculine and gender-neutral wings—they walked through an ‘enchanted forest’ in order to make it to the party. Once one had navigated through the trees, the backyard opened up to fairy lights strung in such a way that it looked like thousands of fireflies were dancing into the night. Tables were made from tree trunks. Drinks were glowing.
Trails led off from the main party, bordered by wildflowers and arriving at intricate doors in what looked like trees. Once opened, they revealed small, cozy rooms with plush pillows and more fairy lights.
There were fresh flowers and toadstools everywhere.
It was beyond anything I’d ever seen, and I’d been friends with Wren for a long time.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” I croaked after I’d taken it all in. Tears brimmed at my eyes at the sheer beauty that surrounded me. The lights. The magic of it all. It was the exact thing I needed, while my mind was gnarly, twisty, full of dark and ugly fears. I needed a fairy party, I needed the beauty of it, the enchantment of it.
“I know,” Wren sighed, looking around. Then she turned back to me. “But you, you my girl, my fairy princess, have also outdone yourself.” She reached out to brush one of my long curls from my face. “If I hadn’t already experimented with girls and sadly didn’t get anything from the experience, I’d be jumping all over you right now. You are simply breathtaking.”
“I second that,” Zoe put in, typing in her phone. She’d just taken a video and various photos of the party—still empty as guests weren’t due to arrive for another fifteen minutes. She had been more than a little blown away at Wren’s skills and was ready to employ her for clients.
I had totally expected Zoe to flat out refuse to put on any kind of costume and certainly not the fairy wings that Wren said were compulsory, double underlined on the invitation. The people at the doors had even been instructed to remove anyone who refused—Wren took costumes rather seriously.
Zoe did not.
She detested them. The three of us were all required to go to different events, parties, dinners in order to further ourselves in business ... and also to have fun. It was inevitable than many of those parties would have some kind of theme. We’d all happily obliged. But Zoe never did. She’d attend in her perfectly tailored dresses, red bottomed shoes and subtle diamond accessories. I’d never seen her in anything that wasn’t monochromatic, definitely not anything patterned or colorful. I hadn’t thought my birthday party would be any kind of exception.
But she was here.
In wings.
Wings Wren had had made specifically for her. Matte black, they sat high on her shoulders and had etchings of feathers throughout them. They looked like they were carved from stone, all harsh lines and edges. Which paired perfectly with Zoe’s wild, natural hair, curls tight on her head, brushing her shoulders, accentuating the angles on her face and the thick lashes framing her eyes.
She had on a leather jumpsuit, sliding over her curves like it was stitched into her skin. She had a striking black corset fastened over top of it, finishing just above her boobs. It was a magnificent look, so utterly her.
Yasmin went a different direction all together. She was adorned in gold, her auburn hair in intricate braids all over her head, reminding me of Lagertha from Vikings. Her makeup matched the vibe, her eyes a mix of dark browns with a dusting of gold. Her Balmain studded mini dress was adorned with more gold, so much so it looked like armor. Designer armor.
“I third that,” Yasmin called out, also typing on her phone. She was in the middle of a huge case and technically didn’t have the time to be at this party, or in the two hours of hair and makeup that Wren had arranged for her. But she’d done it anyway. Because she was my friend. I also think she liked the glamorous, sometimes frivolous life that we enjoyed. Her day to day was so serious, tense, with so much pressure on her shoulders. Sometimes a girl just needed to put on some badass wings and look like a warrior fairy wearing a two-thousand-dollar dress.
Wren, of course, looked like she wore this kind of thing every day. Her wings were an array of colors, adorned with peacock feathers, yet not as structured as Zoe or Yasmin’s. They flowed like a waterfall down her back, like a train, trailing behind her as she walked. Her blonde hair was in long, wavy curls, small gems woven throughout the curls. Unlike the rest of us and her usual party go-to, she was barely wearing any makeup. Her skin was tanned from her latest holiday with the prince, the freckles scattering her nose all the more prominent now. There was blush high on her cheeks, rosy, pink, giving her a glow. She looked radiant.
