"Because the Prince is handso, right? All he needs to do is be good-looking. Otherwise, what? It's only natural for girls to earn money and support the family while boys are responsible for being as pretty as flowers, right?"
Audrey declared this confidently once again.
Smack...
Dorothy was at a loss for words with this junior witch who endorsed female supremacy. She covered her face with both hands, truly not knowing what to say.
She had never expected that Audrey would harbor such strong feminist tendencies, but that was normal, after all. Most witches had this issue – who could bla them when they were indeed the more dominant side?
This was evident from the fact that in her own family, it was her stepmother Annie who provided for them, while Adam could only play the pretty boy. In households of witches and human n, the n really only needed to look good.
Tsk, being a handso man or a pretty boy in Witch World must be blissful. Damn it, if only my invincible younger brother were still here...
The hobody witch grew sowhat lancholic.
"Or maybe we just shouldn't write it ourselves. Any random classic script from later eras would do."
Dorothy sighed, having given up on Audrey's 'recovery.' This kid was hopeless; it would be better for her to just accept being a scribe in peace.
"That won't do either, Senior Sister. Mortals won't appreciate witch scripts. I've tried rehearsing so classic plays from later eras in the past few days, but the response has been lukewarm."
Hearing her senior sister's suggestion, Audrey too felt helpless. If she had had any real solution, she wouldn't have resorted to writing scripts herself. The problem was that the tastes of witches diverged too much from humans.
The everyday scripts of witches seed like mythological and magical dramas in the eyes of humans. Many events that humans considered matters of life and death were trivial in the eyes of witches.
Even though both races shared the sa origin, the joys and sorrows of witches and humans were truly different. If they couldn't even empathize with each other, there was no point in talking about anything else.
At this, Dorothy too sighed and then picked up the paper and pen from the table.
"Forget it, I'll do it myself."
By now, she had co to understand why all of Audrey's stories were like that. They were standard witch style – witches favored shows about war and victory, power and glory.
Audrey was born a witch, and not just any witch, but a genius witch from a prominent family with extraordinary talent. Even among witches, she was born with a golden key in her mouth, her starting line far ahead of others' finish lines.
In her stories, the princesses were probably modeled after herself. In Little Fox's opinion, that was how a proper princess should be.
Indeed, in the Witch World, those who could be called princesses were none too weak. Their exceptional lineage and fine heritage destined them for greatness. However, such princesses were not what the general populace wanted to see.
Commoners couldn't empathize with such princesses. They wanted to see a princess who rose from obscurity like themselves, not one who was perfect from the beginning to the end, making others feel ashad of their own imperfections.
It wasn't just mortals who couldn't accept Audrey's work; even witches of lesser talent and ordinary lineage felt no connection to her stories.
For instance, in the script, even if the princess fell into hardship, she would still be surrounded by thousands of guards and hundreds of servants, and a al in the wild would equal the annual salary of an ordinary witch...
Do you call that hardship? Do you call that tragedy?
Even though Dorothy knew her junior sister had no malice, and she was just a hobody unaware of the ordinary people's lives, anyone else reading Audrey's script could only see an utter disconnect from the commoners, as if saying, "Why not eat minced at?"
"You should really stop being a recluse. It's rare to co to this era, so go out more and observe those mortals. Maybe then you'll gain a completely new understanding of art. You're not afraid of these mortals, are you?"
Dorothy said thus.
Audrey's social anxiety only applied to witches; she wasn't afraid of mortals. Deep down, she believed that mortals couldn't possibly pose any threat to her.
"Ah, that... I'll try my best..."
Listening to her senior sister, Little Fox appeared to be troubled. Although she was not afraid of mortals, being a hobody for so long inevitably made her sowhat reluctant to interact with strangers. She had grown accustod to staying at ho alone, and even now, she found it difficult to go out.
However, she heeded her senior sister's words and reluctantly drooped her ears as she responded.
And with that, Dorothy's advice ended where it should. After all, no matter how much others say, so things would make no difference. She simply closed her eyes in contemplation, her consciousness diving into the depths of the mory Palace, and retrieved a few books from its innermost sanctum.
"Heh, I never imagined I'd actually have a day as a scribe. I thought there was no chance of that in this lifeti."
The hobody witch said with a self-deprecating chuckle.
Just as the art of witches is not suited for mortals, the artistic works from her past life were also not suitable for the Witch World. When she was younger, she had fantasized about being a scribe or sothing, but after several failures, she faced reality: creating Spells was indeed more profitable than copying texts.
However, during this Witch's Night, it turned out to be a good opportunity. After all, the dieval backdrop of the current world was not so different from her past life, so with minor adjustnts, the artistic works from both worlds could still be utilized.
Yeah, let's start with "Roo and Juliet" and see how it goes.
The hobody witch spent quite so ti picking through her mory Palace and ultimately settled on this tiless tale of star-crossed lovers.
After all, in any era, love stories are always popular, appealing to the young and old alike, especially the heart-wrenching kind that leaves the audience unable to put it down.
Moreover, with a few tweaks to the story, turning the force that separates the young lovers from family to the Church, she could also achieve her goal of saring the Church of Glory.
And as she pondered, her marvelous Inspiration responded.
Many great stories lose their essence when translated into another language, not to ntion that she was not rely changing the language but also the world. If the translation wasn't done well, a good story could beco diocre.
But with the aid of her miraculous Inspiration, Dorothy's translation work went smoothly. She perfectly adapted this world-renowned masterpiece from her past life for the Witch World, effortlessly incorporating elents from another classic, "Butterfly Lovers," to create a two-in-one version.
By the ti Dorothy snapped out of her burst of creativity, her workspace was covered with sheets and sheets of her writing.
Madeline and Audrey, the sisters, didn't dare to disturb her recent creative process. The two sisters carefully organized the scattered manuscripts, and of course, as they did so, they kept reading.
So...
"Waaaah, damn the Church, why do they have to tear them apart, my poor Juliet..."
Dorothy had just co to her senses when she heard the Fox Doll crying beside her, and Audrey had already amassed a little mountain of used tissues.
Tsk, this little sister must really be made of water; there's so much of it.
And it wasn't just Audrey; the hobody witch was taken aback to find that even Madeline was clenching her fists tightly, her eyes slightly red and looking like she was ready to punch soone.
"Don't worry, my lady. We will definitely rescue the president from the hands of those Angels. We won't let the tragedy in this story repeat itself in reality," vowed the Succubus Girl, seeing that Dorothy had finished writing.
Dorothy: "???"
Hearing such inexplicably odd comnts, the hobody witch was full of question marks.
Wait, what does Sophia have to do with this?
Emmmm... wait a second...
Dammit, you two don't think I'm writing an autobiography, do you? Comparing myself and Sophia to Roo and Juliet?
Damn, don't let your imaginations run too wild, okay?
"Well, actually, this story isn't mine, I copied it, from an old acquaintance..."
She was just about to clarify, but Audrey had already pounced on her, embracing her tightly.
"Elder sister, you don't have to explain anymore, I understand..."
Dorothy, nearly smothered by the hug: "...."
Whatever, as long as you're happy.
...The hobody witch is speechless...
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