Castle Whitespire, Fillory, Sunday
Aug. 13th, 2023 09:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
not_a_goddamn_princessHow the fuck had she missed this shithole? Margo had been back for just a week, and she already needed about five buckets of stiff drinks, some OTC uppers and a 12-hour fuckfest with Amaya and Irene just to get through the day.
She didn't have a single one of those things. Just a headache.
She was going to name it Tick Pickwick.
"Seriously, Tick? What is the problem here? I asked for two simple things. Pull up the fields, plant some goddamn mushrooms."
Tick fixed that infuriating customer service smile on her, and had the temerity to say, "If you will allow me to mansplain, Your Highness..."
That fucking dickhole. She was going to strangle him. Except the fairy queen was watching, and probably wouldn't let her have even that small comfort. Fuck knew the woman delighted in wandering around with Margo's goddamn eye hanging off of her wrist like a fancy Halloween bracelet.
"The farmers are hesitant because you're asking them to throw out food," Tick prattled on, gesturing nimbly to make his point, his entire bearing projecting some kind of bizarre... patronizing sycophancy. "...And replace it with, uh..."
Murder. Murder. Murder. "Inedible mushrooms, I got it," Margo said, and hoped that of the twin feelings inside of her right now, it was the rage and not the desperation that showed on her body. "And mansplaining," she added, desiring only to end the relentless, irritating chime of his fucking Tick-ness, "Is a bad thing, Tick."
"But I'm a man," Tick said. "Explaining. Is that not mansplaining? Perhaps you could womansplain to me."
She was going to commit a homicide.
"I mean it's the fucking fairies, this is more of their bullshit," she snarled. "Earthworms, squirrel tongues, and now mushroom fields. I just need it done. Okay?"
Yeah. Her voice definitely cracked, and why, well, why just materialized fucking beside her, pale white and terrifying, some random fairy asshole looking down on her on her throne. "The queen will not be pleased."
Oh god, she was going to die before she could kill Tick. Tick, who was gaping at her with a glassy eyed look on his face. Like a moron. A really murderable moron.
"Are the fairies here right now?" he asked. Because the lucky sack of shit hadn't made any deals with any fairies, so they were invisible to him, and he didn't have to deal with these creepy doll-things popping up and disappearing all willy nilly all the goddamn time.
"They were," Margo said, clenching her fists impotently. "Now they've gone to tell the queen that we screwed the pooch right in the pooper."
"...That sounds painful," Tick said.
"It is."
---
"Where are the worms?"
You know what would help her frazzled nerves? If the fucking fairy queen would stop just popping up out of nowhere, all creepy, swinging her eye around by the wrist. That would be great.
"Don't tell me you sent someone out to do your work," the queen said, her black eyes dark and unforgiving.
Shit. Margo'd asked the guards to dig up that shit. She laughed nervously, hating how powerless she felt, how it seemed like the queen delighted in calling her on how little control she really had here. "I'm a delegator," she tried. "It's a leadership quality. You've clearly mastered it."
Creepy-ass fairies were everywhere in the castle, these days.
"I thought I was clear. They are to be plucked by female hands," the fairy queen said flatly. "And I desire those hands to be yours. But only if you wish to keep them."
And with that imperious command, she swept back out of the room, followed by at least two of her creeper followers. Margo stared after her, helpless. "Shit," she hissed. This was bad. How did the queen know? She had waited until none of those creepy little no-eyebrow fuckers were around before she'd... delegated.
Someone cleared their throat behind her. Margo spun around, and found herself face to face with-- "Rafe, thank fuck."
He was the least offensive - if weirdest and kinkiest - of her minions. "Your Highness," he said. "Abigail wishes that I take a walk. With you." (Abigail. The talking sloth. And the target of Rafe's affections. Margo chose not to ask questions about it.)
So they did, traversing half the castle, passing creeps and soldiers alike. Eventually, Rafe took them into a corridor with pretty figures carved into the rock, and creeping vines along the walls. "Abigail mentioned you have many fairy guests these days," he said. "I presume you wish to extend the most elegant level of hospitality..."
Turned out High Queen Chen Li the Bookish made the corridor out of a rare stone from the Shivering Sea that fairies were violently allergic to. That made it a safe place to talk. To plot. To think about who they could look to for aid--
---
"Please don't underestimate me again."
If the fairy queen was going to march all over Margo's plans and dreams, did she really have to fucking fidget with the eye bracelet that much?
---
Was this how Eliot had felt, when she'd gone missing? It was maddening.
"Your Majesty?" Benedict said, entering the room with a bunny clutched in his arms. (Benedict's job was maps. Benedict was not particularly useful at the moment.) "You have a messenger bunny."
Margo sighed, sagging further onto her throne. "Let me guess, another 'return to sender'," she said.
The bunny scrabbled and struggled in Tick's grip. When it opened its mouth, that ashy, 30-year-smoker's rasp bellowed, "PENNY'S DEAD! PENNY'S DEAD! PENNY'S DEAD!"
Oh. Oh. Oh shit.
"Was he not already?" Tick asked, frowning.
Penny-- she hadn't really known him, but he'd been cool and kind of sexy in that rebellious Traveler way, and-- and she felt emotion rising up in her chest at the loss of it.
"I can't believe it," Benedict gasped. Tears welled up in his eyes. "He was my best friend."
That poor guy. Margo understood how he felt. Felt the raw... gone-ness... of it.
"I guess I always thought someday we were gonna bang," she whispered, struggling through the words. Now that opportunity had just vanished into the ether. Oh, and the hope Penny could just Travel her back to Fandom. That was gone too. "Shit."
[[ nfb, nfi, just catching up on bits and bobs from The Magicians season 3, episodes 1, 3 and 4. ]]
She didn't have a single one of those things. Just a headache.
She was going to name it Tick Pickwick.
"Seriously, Tick? What is the problem here? I asked for two simple things. Pull up the fields, plant some goddamn mushrooms."
Tick fixed that infuriating customer service smile on her, and had the temerity to say, "If you will allow me to mansplain, Your Highness..."
That fucking dickhole. She was going to strangle him. Except the fairy queen was watching, and probably wouldn't let her have even that small comfort. Fuck knew the woman delighted in wandering around with Margo's goddamn eye hanging off of her wrist like a fancy Halloween bracelet.
"The farmers are hesitant because you're asking them to throw out food," Tick prattled on, gesturing nimbly to make his point, his entire bearing projecting some kind of bizarre... patronizing sycophancy. "...And replace it with, uh..."
Murder. Murder. Murder. "Inedible mushrooms, I got it," Margo said, and hoped that of the twin feelings inside of her right now, it was the rage and not the desperation that showed on her body. "And mansplaining," she added, desiring only to end the relentless, irritating chime of his fucking Tick-ness, "Is a bad thing, Tick."
"But I'm a man," Tick said. "Explaining. Is that not mansplaining? Perhaps you could womansplain to me."
She was going to commit a homicide.
"I mean it's the fucking fairies, this is more of their bullshit," she snarled. "Earthworms, squirrel tongues, and now mushroom fields. I just need it done. Okay?"
Yeah. Her voice definitely cracked, and why, well, why just materialized fucking beside her, pale white and terrifying, some random fairy asshole looking down on her on her throne. "The queen will not be pleased."
Oh god, she was going to die before she could kill Tick. Tick, who was gaping at her with a glassy eyed look on his face. Like a moron. A really murderable moron.
"Are the fairies here right now?" he asked. Because the lucky sack of shit hadn't made any deals with any fairies, so they were invisible to him, and he didn't have to deal with these creepy doll-things popping up and disappearing all willy nilly all the goddamn time.
"They were," Margo said, clenching her fists impotently. "Now they've gone to tell the queen that we screwed the pooch right in the pooper."
"...That sounds painful," Tick said.
"It is."
"Where are the worms?"
You know what would help her frazzled nerves? If the fucking fairy queen would stop just popping up out of nowhere, all creepy, swinging her eye around by the wrist. That would be great.
"Don't tell me you sent someone out to do your work," the queen said, her black eyes dark and unforgiving.
Shit. Margo'd asked the guards to dig up that shit. She laughed nervously, hating how powerless she felt, how it seemed like the queen delighted in calling her on how little control she really had here. "I'm a delegator," she tried. "It's a leadership quality. You've clearly mastered it."
Creepy-ass fairies were everywhere in the castle, these days.
"I thought I was clear. They are to be plucked by female hands," the fairy queen said flatly. "And I desire those hands to be yours. But only if you wish to keep them."
And with that imperious command, she swept back out of the room, followed by at least two of her creeper followers. Margo stared after her, helpless. "Shit," she hissed. This was bad. How did the queen know? She had waited until none of those creepy little no-eyebrow fuckers were around before she'd... delegated.
Someone cleared their throat behind her. Margo spun around, and found herself face to face with-- "Rafe, thank fuck."
He was the least offensive - if weirdest and kinkiest - of her minions. "Your Highness," he said. "Abigail wishes that I take a walk. With you." (Abigail. The talking sloth. And the target of Rafe's affections. Margo chose not to ask questions about it.)
So they did, traversing half the castle, passing creeps and soldiers alike. Eventually, Rafe took them into a corridor with pretty figures carved into the rock, and creeping vines along the walls. "Abigail mentioned you have many fairy guests these days," he said. "I presume you wish to extend the most elegant level of hospitality..."
Turned out High Queen Chen Li the Bookish made the corridor out of a rare stone from the Shivering Sea that fairies were violently allergic to. That made it a safe place to talk. To plot. To think about who they could look to for aid--
"Please don't underestimate me again."
If the fairy queen was going to march all over Margo's plans and dreams, did she really have to fucking fidget with the eye bracelet that much?
Was this how Eliot had felt, when she'd gone missing? It was maddening.
"Your Majesty?" Benedict said, entering the room with a bunny clutched in his arms. (Benedict's job was maps. Benedict was not particularly useful at the moment.) "You have a messenger bunny."
Margo sighed, sagging further onto her throne. "Let me guess, another 'return to sender'," she said.
The bunny scrabbled and struggled in Tick's grip. When it opened its mouth, that ashy, 30-year-smoker's rasp bellowed, "PENNY'S DEAD! PENNY'S DEAD! PENNY'S DEAD!"
Oh. Oh. Oh shit.
"Was he not already?" Tick asked, frowning.
Penny-- she hadn't really known him, but he'd been cool and kind of sexy in that rebellious Traveler way, and-- and she felt emotion rising up in her chest at the loss of it.
"I can't believe it," Benedict gasped. Tears welled up in his eyes. "He was my best friend."
That poor guy. Margo understood how he felt. Felt the raw... gone-ness... of it.
"I guess I always thought someday we were gonna bang," she whispered, struggling through the words. Now that opportunity had just vanished into the ether. Oh, and the hope Penny could just Travel her back to Fandom. That was gone too. "Shit."
[[ nfb, nfi, just catching up on bits and bobs from The Magicians season 3, episodes 1, 3 and 4. ]]
