Margo Hanson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
not_a_goddamn_princess) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomtownies2021-08-29 06:33 pm
not_a_goddamn_princess) wrote in fandomtownies2021-08-29 06:33 pm
Entry tags:
Causeway, Sunday Afternoon
Yesterday had made like 2014 and dumped a truck of cold water on Margo’s chances of high-tailing it out of here pronto. Oh, nothing had changed, besides a short infodump about this island’s bad kidnapping habit from a hot Brit. But Margo knew her luck, and she could put two and two together.
She was totally hosed. As per usual.
But hey, there’d been drinks last night and some maintenance on her royal plumbing. She felt fresh, pissed off, and ready to give this another shot. “There’s gotta be something about these wards I can use,” she muttered as she held her fingers out in front of her, making a square shape. She aimed it at the causeway.
Plenty of weird shit in the air. Just nothing she recognized. Dammit, Margo. Think.
“EMBER IS DEAD!”
The bunny startled her straight out of position. “Jesus fuck a labradoodle—”
“QUENTIN KILLED HIM”, said the second bunny.
“MAGIC ROYALLY FUCKED!” The third one was black and kind of cute. It had this funny ear that kinda bent in the wrong direction—
“CAN’T FIND YOU!” By the fourth, she was sick of it. But they just kept on coming, one bunny after another, croaking out a bunch of syllables that, strung together, sounded like some bullshit back home.
“The fuck, El,” she muttered, pulling a rabbit into her arms. “Look, I don’t know how this shit works, but you tell that dickwad I’m alive and in Maryland, will you?” Wait, these chain-smoking furballs were terse. “You tell him this exactly. I don’t want you leaving off a single syllable, all right? This is important,” she said. She lifted the bunny up to eye level. Singular. “‘ALIVE IN MARYLAND, DICK’.”
She let it go.
[open!]
She was totally hosed. As per usual.
But hey, there’d been drinks last night and some maintenance on her royal plumbing. She felt fresh, pissed off, and ready to give this another shot. “There’s gotta be something about these wards I can use,” she muttered as she held her fingers out in front of her, making a square shape. She aimed it at the causeway.
Plenty of weird shit in the air. Just nothing she recognized. Dammit, Margo. Think.
“EMBER IS DEAD!”
The bunny startled her straight out of position. “Jesus fuck a labradoodle—”
“QUENTIN KILLED HIM”, said the second bunny.
“MAGIC ROYALLY FUCKED!” The third one was black and kind of cute. It had this funny ear that kinda bent in the wrong direction—
“CAN’T FIND YOU!” By the fourth, she was sick of it. But they just kept on coming, one bunny after another, croaking out a bunch of syllables that, strung together, sounded like some bullshit back home.
“The fuck, El,” she muttered, pulling a rabbit into her arms. “Look, I don’t know how this shit works, but you tell that dickwad I’m alive and in Maryland, will you?” Wait, these chain-smoking furballs were terse. “You tell him this exactly. I don’t want you leaving off a single syllable, all right? This is important,” she said. She lifted the bunny up to eye level. Singular. “‘ALIVE IN MARYLAND, DICK’.”
She let it go.
[open!]