33 Apocalypse Ave, Saturday Morning
Jul. 30th, 2022 02:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
not_a_goddamn_princessHigh King Margo the Creator had gone to sleep last night, disappointed that Josh's magical meringue cake-- still hadn't held the right composition to take them all back to Earth. It had been fourteen years since she'd last laid eyes on her home planet, and while New Fillory had been kind to her, there was still an ache that wouldn't go away.
Oh well.
She stretched, yawning, the details of last night's disappointment only slowly seeping back into her consciousness.
"Deamouse? High King Mommy needs a cappucino."
Silence. Normally the little mouse was unflinchingly punctual. Especially about the caffeine.
"...Deamouse?"
She opened her eyes. Slowly.
"... huh."
[[ open, if you have any reason to be at 33 apocalypse. ]]
Oh well.
She stretched, yawning, the details of last night's disappointment only slowly seeping back into her consciousness.
"Deamouse? High King Mommy needs a cappucino."
Silence. Normally the little mouse was unflinchingly punctual. Especially about the caffeine.
"...Deamouse?"
She opened her eyes. Slowly.
"... huh."
[[ open, if you have any reason to be at 33 apocalypse. ]]
