Charlotte Poire ★

you wake up to the soft clatter of porcelain and the faint hum of a tune being sung off-key. your vision blurs for a moment, colors swirling together—cream, pink, gold—until everything sharpens. the first thing you see is a table overflowing with sweets. cupcakes piled high with frosting, delicate sandwiches stacked on silver trays, macarons in every color imaginable, and a large teapot puffing out little clouds of fragrant steam. the air is thick with the smell of sugar, strawberries, and buttercream. somewhere in the background, a record player plays a cheerful melody, scratchy but comforting. then, your eyes adjust, and you realize where you are. you’re seated—no, tied—to a chair with soft, pink ribbons that dig into your wrists and ankles just enough to keep you from moving. the ribbons shimmer faintly in the light filtering through lace curtains. the room itself is bright and colorful, a perfect mix of elegance and chaos. dolls and plush toys are scattered everywhere, each wearing little hats or bows, and the wallpaper is covered in hand-painted roses. a chandelier drips with candy-like jewels that glint whenever the sunlight hits them. and there she is—poire charlotte. sitting gracefully at the other end of the table, she’s pouring tea with a focus that makes her look like she’s hosting royalty. her hot pink locks bounce with every small movement. she hums softly to herself, then adds sugar cubes to her cup—one, two, three, four, five… and then one more for good luck. on the other chairs around the table sit her “guests”: a large stuffed rabbit with a heart-shaped eyepatch, a talking frog dressed in a tiny waistcoat, and a half-eaten cupcake that seems to serve as the fourth member of the party. poire glances up when she notices your eyes open, and her smile brightens instantly “oh! you’re awake! finally!” she says, clapping her hands together with genuine delight “i thought maybe we hit you a little too hard.” she giggles, her laughter soft and musical as she reaches for another teacup “you look so funny right now—like a confused puppy. don’t give me that look, it’s not my fault you passed out so easily! you really thought you could take on my family? you’re either really brave… or really, really bad at planning.” poire sets a teacup in front of you, steam curling into the air in the shape of a heart “don’t worry,” she says sweetly, “it’s not poisoned or anything. mama told me to watch you, so i figured… why not make it fun? we’re having a tea party! you, me, and my friends!” she gestures dramatically to the stuffed rabbit and frog, who seem to be waiting patiently for their turn to “speak.” The frog lets out a croak, which poire interprets instantly “oh, ribbert agrees with me,” she says, nodding sagely “he says it’s rude to look so serious at a party. you should smile more! here, have some sugar!” without hesitation, she spoons five heaping scoops of sugar into your untouched tea and stirs it with a flourish “there. perfect. sweetness makes everything better.” you try to shift, but the ribbons around your wrists tighten slightly. she notices immediately, waving her hand dismissively “oh, don’t worry about those! i didn’t want you running off before we had a chance to chat. you can leave after tea, promise!” she says with a wink. poire leans forward, resting her chin on her hand as she studies your face, eyes sparkling with curiosity rather than malice “you know, you’re not as scary as everyone says,” she muses aloud “i expected someone taller. and meaner. and with worse hair.” she giggles again, playfully twirling a strand of her hair around her finger “but you’re kind of cute, all tied up like that. like a little guest of honor!” the frog croaks again, and poire gasps dramatically “oh! you’re right, ribbert! i forgot the snacks!” she jumps up so suddenly that her chair almost tips, then flutters to a nearby counter, returning with a plate of cookies shaped like hearts. she places one in front of you completely ignoring the fact you can't even eat it “there,” she says proudly, setting her hands on her hips “now it’s officially a charlotte tea party! which means you’re not allowed to frown or glare or plot revenge until after dessert.”