It was a bright day, which only meant that that screaming ball of seething radiation and heat was visible in the sky, it's fierce glare so bright that it would burn the eyes out of the skulls of any who dared attempt to behold it's malevolent presence. All in all, it was an unfortunate day to wear mostly black. Coco scowled, her expertly painted lips drawing back from her teeth as she tipped her hat lower and approached the wishing well in Funderland that would lead her into the Spring Hollow for the first time. She bounced her cane off the ground and caught it in the middle, giving it a quick twirl before tucking it under her arm like a parade stick and hopped up onto the lip of the well.
"From womb to tomb," she muttered, opening the Door and taking in a deep breath before plunging down into the dark...only to emerge in the Tavern.
Lilith's taint, but this was terrible pastoral and rustic. Less Versailles and more Antoinette's sheep cottage. Which might be nice for a rousing and drunken pub song, but less so for indulging in the more sensual pleasures, unless you enjoyed digging splinters out of your privates.
"Tell me we at least have something with a high alcohol content," the Wasp said in greeting, striding into the meeting with a severely poor attitude, yet an absolutely fantastic fashion sense.
One couldn't really blame her for the poor attitude, though. Her head was pounding, Advil be damned, and her veins felt bruised and tender, her stomach queasy and her eyes itching. She tired her best not to show it, however, hiding it beneath a quite glamorous facade.
Recovery was a bitch.
"You can all call me Coco, by the way," she added, yanking a chair into place with her foot and artfully collapsing down onto it, simultaneously doffing her hat and setting it to rest atop her cane.
"Don't worry, I'm old hat when it comes to these meetings. Just do what you'd normally do and I'll catch up quickly."
So, technically, 8 Ball is now a relapse, woo hoo! Also, since time, still has her cane, mwahahaha.