paradisalogs | ☠ 068

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molotov cocktease

☠ 068

Who: Molotov and you
What: Mercenary fairy, pouting silently over her loss
When: This weekend
Where: All over the castle
Rating: Probably G, since she can't even swear

This. Fucking. Castle.

When Molotov woke up only inches high with wings, and tried to say those exact words, all that came out of her mouth were tiny little bell-like noises, chiming and tinkling and generally annoying even herself.

It was a first, not wanting to hear her own voice.

After stumbling across the pillow, which took forever, Molotov managed to master her wings, clumsily gliding around close to the mattress at first, but soon flitting all around the bedroom. She took off as soon as the door was opened, heading out through an open window to fly all around the castle grounds.

She looks mostly like a little ball of light. An angry, speeding little ball of light. And she might try to take it out on you.

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Ha. So it wasn't a bug. He isn't sure if this makes the situation better, but at least he was right in assuming.

Although a tiny woman with wings wouldn't have been his first guess. A tiny angry woman-fly. That glows and makes bell noises. Don't they have a word for those? -- He holds up his hands while he thinks, showing how harmless he is.

"Calm down, I wasn't talking about me." As long as she didn't start casting spells on him or whatever. He has a limit. "--You're a resident, aren't you?"

...Come to think of it, she looks a little familiar.

Molotov makes a big show of holding her arms out and rolling her eyes, like Spike is a complete moron who's managed to piece together an obvious fact. Because that's pretty much what's happened. She lets out a few sarcastic bell chimes to complement it, then grabs at her comically long hair, waving it in his face.

Red. Red, dumbass. Who else has hair like this?

Spike hasn't spent a lot of his daydreams on how the various people he knows would look like as a tiny-- thing. Dammit, it's on the tip of his tongue... There's a candy named after them, isn't there?

Regardless, he isn't terribly phased by her anger, instead staring at her quizzically while throwing his towel over his shoulder. With the light it's hard to make out if she's wearing a tiny eye patch, but the name comes to him anyway. "...Molotov?"

Well, that's obviously something he's going to have to amend now, just in case anyone else gets turned miniature and he needs to identify them. Quick, Spike! Imagine a little Jet pixie.

She does have a tiny eyepatch (made from a leaf), but that's besides the point. Molotov mocks him with a slow clap, then hovers right at the end of his nose, chiming something about how all that hair must be sucking up his brain.

This all would be cute, if she weren't causing him to go seriously cross-eyed. Which he soon realizes he can amend by backing up himself, only before he gets there his nose starts to twitch. A few seconds later, and he barely has the time to bring up a hand to cover his mouth when he sneezes. Already he can feel a second one coming on, and he holds his hand below his nostrils to keep it in.

Maybe he's allergic to 'whatever's. He's never been tested for them.

"What do you want?" Which is a purely sympathetic question. If Molotov wants a favor, she's going to have to start with the charades.

While his hand catches all the spittle, the gust of air from Spike's sneeze sends Molotov rolling backward in the air, a trail of her sparkly little dust left behind her. She manages to stop herself a few feet away, clutching her head from the dizziness of it, then rises back up and dusts herself off.

Her bell noises seem to imply she's chiding him for sneezing, but then she points down and mimics knocking on a door -- she wants to go home, but she can't get in unless someone can get Brock to open the door for her.

It's probably the sparkly dust that did it. Spike feels marginally bad for sending her flying once he notices the way she had to recompose herself, and worse when he reflects in her situation. This better not be contagious.

"You want me to take you to see Brock, right?" Wild guess. He's not looking forward to being the one to break it to him, but it's not like he isn't up to his neck in debt for that guy. Trying not to sigh too hard, in case that knocked her over again, he nods."Alright, but I'll do the talking."

Molotov lets out a sigh of her own (it sounds a bit like a windchime, actually), then flutters over to sit on his shoulder. She figures she'll let out less dust if she's not flying around, and maybe Spike will sneeze less in that case. Either way, she sits lotus-style, barking out some tinkly directions and pointing at the door.

He'll always be able to rely on Molotov to be demanding and bossy.

Now she's riding him. Spike realizes too late that he should have protested more, or at least given her a harder time. Made it seem like he couldn't see her, something like that.

At least if he's going to embrace something as ridiculous as Molotov turning into a small bell-voiced fairy (--got it!), he could have some fun with her. That reason alone is why he stops short of the door, glancing upwards instead of forward.

"You know, I'm pretty sure the vents are connected in this place. Seems like a wasted opportunity."

Well, she could float next to him, but he would probably keep sneezing! Molotov, frankly, thought she was being considerate, and Spike should be grateful for it.

She looks quizzically at him when he stops, but then he says that and she bares her teeth, launching herself at... his ear. It's about all she can reach, so she pulls and slaps at him, screaming little chimes of fury at him. Is she angrier than usual? It's possible. Such a tiny body probably can't handle too many emotions at once.

He's seen her temper before, but trying to yank his ear off does seem to be an overreaction. It also seems to be pretty ineffectual. Spike has had mosquitoes bother him more than Molotov is right now. Still, since they've been on such good terms, he at least makes a show of holding his hands up to save her self esteem.

"Okay, I get it." -ish. Also those chime noises are starting to get annoying, so he can give her that. At least to the point where he's actively resisting the urge to swat at her. Brock wouldn't appreciate that. It all comes out in his mumble. "I'll save that idea for when I'm three inches tall."

It's with a harrumph that Molotov gives a final kick at Spike's earlobe, then marches back over to her perch on his shoulder to sit back down. Her wings flutter as she flops down, giving off a small shower of glittering dust before she points back at the door and gives him directions.

Totally useless, tinkly directions.

He brings his hand up to his ear, totally instinctively, because between the kick and the way her wings brush his hairs around it's all he can do to keep himself from scratching it. He doesn't though, and forces that hand back in his pocket before it gets him in trouble.

Is Brock even in his room? With the way she's buzzing at him, he swears it's like there's something else he should know about this. Or just as likely, this is a prank and the real Molotov is outside waiting to laugh when the fairy leads him into the duck pond. Sure, that would be more effort than he'd expect out of her for entertainment, but boredom can do that to people.

As he exits the gym, he glances to his shoulder, in case she wants to point to another direction. It'd be a hell of a lot easier if she would let him follow her as she lead the way, but whatever. He's not in any real hurry.

Actually... Molotov doesn't know if Brock is in the room, but she figures it's worth a shot. And he's more likely to open the door for Spike than anyone else, so. But yeah, no, Molotov didn't bother inventing (?) a fairy robot or something to play a trick on Spike, that was a stupid thing to worry about.

She gestures for him to continue on when he looks at her, then crosses her arms over her chest like a proud little captain. It was a deliberate decision not to have him follow her! Because one, he'd probably sneeze himself to death, and two, he might just walk away. He couldn't do that if she was on his shoulder, ready to attack his head.

What's the deal with that dust leaking out of her, anyway? Just another unanswered question that he only thinks of to keep himself occupied as he walks down the hall.

He pauses when he tries to remember which floor he's even going to. How long has it been since Spike went to Brock's actual room instead of the cabin? He could look to the fairy on his shoulder for further directions, but instead he just picks one direction and heads down it.

At some point it may become apparent that he's doing everything but look at her. Which may be how they end up heading to the hall his room is on, in case he's lucky and doesn't need to go too far out of his way. Some people are hungry and would like to get cleaned up, it's just a matter of priorities.

She doesn't know what the dust is, it's not like she researched being a fairy before she got turned into one! One thing is for sure though, and it's that Molotov's fairy dust does not make people fly. It probably gives them a rash or something, she really has no clue.

Molotov had flown to the gym, which is a little more disorienting than walking there, and she's distracted by her own thoughts (pouting) about her current situation. So it's only once they're actually on the second floor that she notices, seeing the room numbers, and she starts yanking at Spike's hair, trying to tell him that he's an idiot.

Spike is currently scanning the room names and probably thinking about a sandwich when Molotov yanks on his hair, which in turn finally gets him to look at her again.

"What?" She's really obnoxious at this size. Spike holds back yet again, but that doesn't mean he won't play up a perplexed expression as a way to help her attitude. "Did I skip it?"

She lifts up to hover in front of his face, grabbing at both sides of his nose with her tiny little hands and making a lot of noise. She jabs one hand toward the staircase, pointing, then holds out all five fingers, to signal that they should be heading to the fifth floor.

Not that Molotov can do all that much if Spike decides he'd rather not go up there right away, except be really annoying about the whole thing.

This is a weird feeling that he'll try to forget later; tiny hands grabbing his nose while he tries not to breathe in her magic dust that's getting on his shirt. Good thing it doesn't show stains.

Even if he isn't so dumb that he can't understand what she's trying to mime, right now it's fun to get a reaction out of her. Something he'll likely regret when she's big again, but that's a problem for another time.

"How could I forget." Not smiling, of course. He just attempts to pull back and start heading to the elevator. Being such a nice guy and all.

Don't dwell too heavily on the strangeness, Spike -- after all, at this size, Molotov could jam her entire fists up your nostrils and yank out your nose hair.

She flutters above him, harrumphing (which is pretty tinkly), and takes a seat lotus-style atop his head.

His hair would be a pretty comfy place for a nap, actually...

Typical for him and his strange problems. Spike should just be grateful that they're on better terms. Kind of. He hasn't exactly tested that theory when she hasn't been drinking.

Amusement over his tame teasing starts to wear off as he waits for the elevator and catches a reflection of how comfortable she's getting in his hair. Like he needs dust in it.

But whatever, it digs and he ducks inside the door, jamming his finger on Brock's floor a second later. The sooner he does this, the sooner he can forget about having any concern for tiny-Molotov.

Fairy dust is definitely what will be in his hair, because as the elevator starts to ascend, Molotov yawns and lies down in his hair, her tiny head pillowed on her arms.

Her acorn-top hat soon rolls from her head to rest in his hair too.

By the time the elevator makes it to the fifth floor, she's out like a twinkly little light, nestled in a hair nest.

He can see her in the reflection of the door, getting weirdly comfortable in his matted curls. If she winds up smelling like him, Spike can't really be blamed for that.

Except that he was the one who accepted the invitation to chauffeur her around the castle. And he'll have the glitter dust to prove it. (Ugh.)

Since he's committed and all, he stops in front of Brock's door during the course of her nap before politely calling up to her. "Your stop."

At the tilt of his head, her acorn hat falls off and he's distracted again. He's going to get paranoid about finding things in there after this, isn't he?

Molotov's response is much the same as it is when she's woken as a regular size human -- she murmurs(/chimes) a grumble, then shifts a little. Her wings also twitch a bit, but that probably just goes along with the getting resettled in his hair.

Which, yes, is covered in fairy dust. He'll have to pretend he was hanging out with strippers or something.

But there's nothing in his hair besides a fairy now, since her hat has fallen to the ground. And she would really appreciate it if Spike picked that up for her.

People do have an annoying tendency to ask him questions like 'what were you doing' and 'what's that on your head', so he'll keep that story in his pocket. Who knows when glitter was invented, but medieval strippers can't be all that different.

Or he could just shower before anyone notices. Spike makes no effort to retrieve the acorn at first, but after a few seconds of being ignored, he finally bends down to grab it.

"I hope this isn't currency. I don't think it's going to cover it." They're here, why isn't she flying through the keyhole or whatever. Don't make him knock.

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