Caroline Bartley: The Floor Ritual is one of the most popular events of the Uluru Games. It has a bewitching style that generates a resonance between the dancer and audience.
Caroline Bartley: Charlotte was a genius. She was born for it. And God has sent her a coach covered in dark feathers and skilled in ancient Celtic runes.
Caroline Bartley: Coach Raven taught her the primal witch dance that ignited a fire within her. At least, until that tragedy 10 years ago which took her leg.
Caroline Bartley: Coach Raven had given her a pocket of flower seeds as a reward for all her diligent practicing. It's said they were from the druids in the forests of Glastonbury.
Caroline Bartley: I guess she planted them around her house and got this garden. Now all these bizarre plants share the same strange air with their owner.
The plants in the mansion's garden are all drooping toward the ground. There is a new sense of weariness that wasn't present during Tooth Fairy's last visit.
The woman by the door gently shakes her head as Flutterpage crawls around on her knees, searching for bugs among the foliage.
Caroline Bartley: Thank you again for having me over. That's all I have to say about Charlotte.
Flutterpage's head pops out from between the plants.
Flutterpage: What's a druid? Is it a place? Do they have canaries and snails there?
Caroline Bartley: A druid isn't a place. It's a title, an identity.
Flutterpage: Identity. Oh, like a name, just like Flutterpage, right?
She quickly falls back into her own musings.
Tooth Fairy: Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Bartley. I'm sorry to be taking you away from your practice.
Caroline Bartley: Yes, you should be. I don't much enjoy being bothered by stuffed-up bureaucrats.
The accomplished Floor Ritualist has never been one to hold back her words.
Caroline Bartley: But if you ask me—
Caroline glances once more at the narrow window of the old Victorian house. It's tightly shut.
Caroline Bartley: I will tell you that it isn't Charlotte that's summoning the black fog.
Caroline Bartley: I stand by that. I swear it on all my honor as an Uluru competitor.
Caroline Bartley: We're witches, but not in the traditional sense. We practice witchcraft to win medals instead of summoning devils.
Tooth Fairy: We trust you at your word. It seems like that concludes our investigation into this Fog Hag. Thanks again, Ms. Bartley.
Caroline Bartley: Ms. Tooth Fairy, if you do want to thank me, mind doing me a favor?
Tooth Fairy nods, but Caroline seems to have an unusual hesitation as she deliberates over her choice of words.
In the end, she yields.
Caroline Bartley: Please do something, anything, to bring her out of this hole she's dug for herself.
Caroline Bartley: Whatever you do, break down her door, drag her out by her hair, even blow up that old mansion.
Caroline Bartley: Just don't let her hide in her stupid house.
Caroline Bartley: She'll let you inside now. There's no longer any power preventing you. I can sense it.
Tooth Fairy: Hmm. You know this place well. Have you visited her here before?
Caroline bites her lip, holding back the words on the tip of her tongue.
Then, she walks away.
Flutterpage: I think Ms. Bartley wants to come in with us.
Tooth Fairy: Maybe so, but she's made her choice. She doesn't want to join us inside.
Tooth Fairy shakes the jar in her hand, not containing her usual toothfairies but filled with a collection of lanolin snails.
Tooth Fairy: Let's go, Flutterpage. We still have work to do.
Flutterpage: Whatever you say, Ms. Witch Doctor.
The two of them step cautiously into the garden, the soil compacting under their feet. There is nothing left to obstruct their path.
They step around a few threatening-looking plants as they take the winding road to the creaky oak door.
Tooth Fairy goes to knock, but the door swings open the moment her knuckle hits its surface.
Tooth Fairy: Ah! The door isn't locked. Let's get inside.
Willow sits at the table prepared for one, surrounded by an exorbitant amount of half-finished food.
Aside from the full English she's currently tucking into, there's a scotch egg, a half-eaten cod and chips, and a steaming apple crumble.
Tooth Fairy: Sorry to interrupt.
Willow casts aside basic manners, neglecting to invite her guests to sit, and cuts herself another piece of sausage.
Willow: swallow
Tooth Fairy: Diets high in sugar and fatty oils may well lead to stomach illness, Ms. O'Hagan.
Willow: ...
She continues to eat her lavish brunch.
Tooth Fairy: I choose the name, Tooth Fairy, instead of my real name, Campbell. But did you choose to let people call you Willow?
Tooth Fairy: Or, do you prefer the name Charlotte O'Hagan?
Tooth Fairy: That is the name of ... an excellent Uluru Floor Ritualist.
The crash of silverware interrupts her once more.
Then, Willow sweeps her arm across the table.
The silver dishes clatter loudly as they fly to the floor.
Willow: Tooth Fairy, some kind of doctor, right? I think your prescription is a little fuzzy. I'm no athlete. I've only got one leg.
Willow: This Charlotte has nothing to do with Willow.
Willow: Just like I've nothing to do with the Uluru Games.
Tooth Fairy: So far as I know, the Uluru Games do not exclude people with disabilities from full participation.
Willow: To be sure, but only if you enjoy parading yourself around for embarrassment. I think I'll pass, thanks.
Tooth Fairy: No one should feel embarrassed by competing, least of all the competitors challenging themselves. That is the point of the Uluru spirit.
Willow rises with great effort, furiously stamping the floor with her prosthesis in the process.
Willow: Excuse me? I don't remember having asked you for a running commentary.
Tooth Fairy: I'm sure you already know the answer in your heart. You have wisdom and experience.
Willow: Who even invited you here?! It's time you leave.
Tooth Fairy: I'm here representing our mutual friend, Flutterpage.
At the mention of this name, Willow pauses and takes a step back.
Willow: What for?
Tooth Fairy: I understand that usually the only one welcome inside is Flutterpage, but I'm here to apologize on her behalf.
Willow: Apologize?
She places a small jar of snails on the table.
Willow: What's this?
Tooth Fairy: An apology gift. She ran off a little before sunrise to collect these for you.
Tooth Fairy: She collects these arcane creatures you use to make the lubricant for your prosthesis, right?
Tooth Fairy: But she's afraid that you'll get angry at her again, so she asked me to give it to you.
Willow: Oh, I see. Now I'm the hateful, angry, wicked witch.
Tooth Fairy: No, you're not. The things that these people say about you, they aren't true.
Tooth Fairy: As I mentioned, Flutterpage wanted to apologize, because, quote, she "didn't want to break your heart."
Willow: ...
Tooth Fairy: Ms. Bartley has told her many things about you. She never knew you're such an outstanding competitor.
Willow: Caroline?
Tooth Fairy slowly pushes the jar of snails closer to her.
Tooth Fairy: So, will you accept her gift?
Willow delicately places her fingertips on the jar, neither pushing it away nor taking it.
Willow: Ugh, nosy little brat.
Willow: ...
Willow: Where is she now? In the temporary hospital?
Tooth Fairy: You want to see her?
The witch's features twist like a knot.
Willow: Don't push me!
She pulls the snail jar closer to her.
Willow: Alright, it's my own fault! I shouldn't have treated her that way!
Willow: That what you wanted to hear, is it?
Willow: Fine, then. You'll have what you want. Just take me to her!
Tooth Fairy: She's waiting by the door.
Willow: What?
Flutterpage cautiously peeks out from the edge of the doorframe, her wide eyes scanning the room for any sign of danger.
Flutterpage: Ms. Willow?
Willow: ...
At this point, there is no turning back.
Willow: Fine! Come on in then.
Flutterpage: sob
Unable to deal with her emotions, tears well up in Flutterpage's eyes once again.
Willow: Stop your crying.
Willow: Listen, I—
Willow: Urgh, I ...
Willow: I shouldn't have treated you so wickedly the last time, and the time before that.
Tooth Fairy gives a silent nod.
Willow: Now would you stop that crying? At least not here in my—
Flutterpage: crying
Without a moment's hesitation, Flutterpage charges toward her.
Willow's hands open and close like a spider raising its front legs in fear.
She's not sure whether she can catch this chaotic bundle of rags.
Willow: Oi!
*bang*
She manages to catch her, only to be knocked back to the floor.
Willow: ...
Flutterpage: I'm sorry ... I-I'm really very sorry ...
Willow: Tsk ...
Flutterpage: I swear I won't break into your house no more. I'll only come in when you let me.
Flutterpage: I'll do anythin' you ask, say anythin' you need me to say, Miss.
She unconsciously looks to Tooth Fairy, only to see that her full attention is directed at the Uluru Floor Ritual painting on the wall.
Willow gently taps the back of Flutterpage's neck through several layers of old clothing.
Flutterpage: So, could I still come around again sometime?
Willow presses her hand to the girl's mouth, stifling her sobs.
Flutterpage: Wumm.
Willow: Stop your crying first, lass.
Flutterpage: Okay! I'll stop cryin'.
With a soft push, Flutterpage drifts into the air like a sheet caught in the wind.
Even with the removal of Flutterpage's weight, Willow is left on the floor, unable to get up.
Flutterpage: Let ... Can I help you?
Flutterpage moves closer, reaching out both hands in line with Willow's.
Willow: Heh.
She takes the offered hands and rises steadily, the sudden gust of wind helping her find her balance.
Willow: Enough, enough. I've had too much of this for one day.
Willow: Would you mind if I politely asked you to leave?
Willow: You do have a black fog to chase after all, don't you?
Willow: Just so you know, it truly has nothing to do with me.
Flutterpage: Ms. O'Hagan ...
Willow: Call me Willow, child. What else do you want to say?
Flutterpage: Would you let the food stay in your tummy for a bit longer? Eat a little more. I don't want you to be so skinny.
Willow: ...
Willow pries Flutterpage's arm from around her waist, gently pushing her back.
Willow: Alright. Now leave me be, please.
Tooth Fairy takes Flutterpage's hand, and, as they leave the room, the old house sinks back into silence. There is no sound save for the heavy ticking of the grandfather clock.
Willow: She's seen too much of this embarrassing side of me.
