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[molotov]

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.

Comments

[samson]

"What -- hey..."

Brock circles the chandelier from below, trying to get a better look at her. Or any look at all.

"C'mon, I'll give you... a little leaf..."

[molotov]

Molotov harrumphs from her hiding spot in a decorative flower that's dangling crystals. She isn't a caterpillar, she's a lady! A lady with wings and a body too tiny to properly handle her emotions.

[samson]

He is trying! He is trying to figure out what would make a big jar attractive to a tiny lady, alright. He doesn't have the right reference levels for this.

"Do you want... like... a shoebox instead? I'll make you a little bed and whatever."

[molotov]

There's a pause, and then the crystals move a little as Molotov peeks out, squinting at her husband before she goes on a rant about how she's only going to sleep in a shoebox bed, she's not going to live in it.

[samson]

Brock doesn't exactly believe her, mostly because he is going to make that shoebox so tricked out that she will never want to leave it. But also because maybe he will put a tiny drop of chloral hydrate in whatever tiny cup she is drinking out of nowadays.

"Look... come home and I'll make you something, alright? Gold leaf and whatever, you'll love it."

[molotov]

He better not drug her! That is horrible, what if the loss lasts for a week? He can't keep her drugged for seven days just because she's tiny! It's so rude and also she's not gonna be nice about it when she gets big again.

Molotov keeps squinting, silent, then very slowly flutters down out of the chandelier. She stays out of his reach, high enough that he won't be able to reach her even while jumping, but she makes it clear she's willing to go home.

[samson]

Wow, he can and he will! You do not tell Brock Samson whom he can and cannot drug and for how long, madam. He is a super spy, he does what he wants!

Brock isn't quite sure how to interpret this, and frowns up at her for a second. "I'm not going to bite," he says, a little hurt because he is a big baby, then turns to go back upstairs, assuming she's going to flutter behind him.

[molotov]

Wow, what a ridiculous baby. And no, if he drugs her, there will be no sex ever, for the rest of their unnatural Paradisa lives! Is that a thing he wants to risk, really?

Molotov snorts when he acts so childish, and hovers above him as they move along. It could be worse, she could be sitting in his hair, spreading glitter and braiding it like she did to Spike. So he's getting off easy here.

She'll be cozy in her little box that he makes, but she ain't staying there forever.