(Disclaimer: I do not own Jackle/William/Vila, but I do own myself. I own my soul!)
Vila Williams was, as far as she was concerned, a normal twelve-year-old girl, living in Quincy, Washington. The neighborhood was normal; except for that one emo-Wicca creep who she thought had a crush on her. What a freak!
She quietly opened her front door, and daintily stepped outside, leaving the door open behind her to let the cool air waft in. Instead of cool air, the air smelled deeply of incense. The Wicca has probably set a bundle of it off and is feeding off of its evilness.
She went higher in search of cool air, jumping onto a low-hanging branch of the old redwood that occupied her lawn, and wrapping her left arm over a larger and higher branch. She slowly pulled herself up, and then climbed up to a higher branch. And then she saw him.
He had black hair - not the same as usual. He probably thought it would make him appear more evil to his demon-summoning friends. His red lips moved slowly, as he breathed the incense-filled air in and out. He had daubed red paint over his nose, and circled his eyes in black. His clothing reminded Vila of Severus Snape. He was entirely clothed in a black robe, and black sashes coiled down from the arms. He wore black shoes: high heels. He was surprisingly masterful moving in them. His hands wore black gloves, and for good measure, he hung a sign on his neck that said "WULD YOU HIT THIS". He misspelled something. Not unusual.
His eyes coloured blood red; slowly probed the area, probably searching for her to seduce. Via climbed higher, and positioned herself behind a blanket of leaves. The Wicca heard rustling, and rapidly jerked his head around. “There is no point hiding from the studster.” He murmured. “You know you want me.” He winked, spreading out his arms. He quickly walked toward the tree, and leaped on the same branch Via had. He slowly climbed up, and Via realized she had nowhere higher to go. She climbed down, seeking to confront him, and knock him off the tree. Quickly, she realized this would be easier than she thought, as the Wicca suddenly screamed.
The neck portion of his garment had been ensnared on a pointy branch, and he was hanging from it, unable to free himself. Via laughed heartily, and climbed down to meet the boy. “Yes, I will hit this!” she thought in her head, and planted her fist deeply into the boy’s stomach. He howled in pain, but her parents were, fortunately, too busy to hear. She punched him again, and again, until, in a rapid movement, he quickly pushed her with his right hand (she was too occupied to notice, but it was probably more like groping than pushing), and, losing her balance, she fell off the tree, landing on her leg in the grass.
