The beast attempts a beautific look that could be mistaken for a bout of painful wind.

My misery is reaching epidemic proportions.

Our mouths and bodies speak for us in a new language as the trees shake loose a rain of petals that stick to our slickness like skins we will wear forever. And just like that, I am changed.

Who but the mad would choose to keep on living? In the end, aren't we all just a little crazy?

Felicity ignores us. She walks out to them, an apparition in white and blue velvet, her head held high as they stare in awe at her, the goddess. I don't know yet what power feels like. But this is surely what it looks like, and I think I'm beginning to understand why those ancient women had to hide in caves. Why our parents and suitors want us to behave properly and predictably. It's not that they want to protect us; it's that they fear us.

It's possible to pretend I'm someone other than who I am, and if I pretend long enough, I can believe it.

You must remember, my dear lady, the most important rule of any successful illusion: First, the people must want to believe in it.