[Morrigan hated her sewing machine. She loved most of the aspects of sewing and clothing design. Hell, even construction could be fun in the right circumstance. But the machine was a mess.
Well, that's what happens when "heirloom quality" is taken to mean "as long as it looks old but doesn't function properly". She'd cursed Singer and all they stood for, then cursed every other manufacturer she could think of.
When that had quit being fun, she grabbed a book off of her local library's shelf. Something about goblins or fae, or fae goblins. Either way it was the kind of mindless drivel that helped her refocus.]
Stupid machine won't even load thread correctly and I have to stomp on the pedal to make it work.. [She grumbled, settling into her sewing room's couch as she read. It was the same old stuff-- goblins and fae are centuries old, blah blah, show respect, everyone dresses like they escaped a beginner's fantasy art class. The usual. Flipping a page, she arched an eyebrow.] ..How to get the goblin king to take away something?
[She looked over at the table, where the machine sat like boehemeth of bad ideas and even worse technical deisgn.] Fine. [Clearing her throat, Morrigan sat up a little.] I wish the goblin king would take away this malfunctioning sewing machine right now.
[Snapping the book closed, Morrigan exited the room and headed for the kitchen with a thrown in,] Not like I've got deadlines to meet or anything,. oh no. Not at all!
[There is a resounding CRASH as none other than the Goblin King himself jump-kicks open the window overlooking the reading nook. A fae wind whirls around the room sending book pages fluttering, supplies sliding off tables, and pixie falling in glittering sheets as it permiates every single surface.]
[The Goblin King coughs a few times as some of said pixie dust had gotten lodged in his throat before he stands up straight and places his hands on his bony hips, hoping that his hideous 70's sofa robe will distract from his unimpressive frame.]
[At the crash, Morrigan leaves her sandwich in the ktichen and runs back to the room. Throwing the door open and half expecting a hoard of cats to have come in to protest the cruetly of faux fur, she's ready with a spray bottle.
...Sofa robes can really look like fur in a split second. She aims and fires rapidly with] Out! GO!
[And then realizes what she's doing, that it's NOT some cat pile, and slowly takes a step back.] ...Who're you?
[It's just making the pixie dust stick to him and everything else even worse. Once he catches sight of his attacker, he outstretches a hand and changes her spray bottle into a pile of wiggling mice.]
HOW DARE YOU! You summon me here in the middle of my soaps and this is how you welcome me! I should spirit away your head along with--
[What had she called for? He turned in place, his robe swishing around his pleather boots. His otherworldly senses tingle as his eyes fall on the sewer. What in the unseelie was that old thing? Some sort of torture device? Well...sigh. Spells are spells and rules are rules.]
[Said mice hit the floor and scurry off, somehow avoiding the glitter bomb remnants. Morrigan frowns] I don't-- wait, your soaps? You watch..?
[Ok weird. Very weird. She studies him for a long moment and when he makes a threat she frowns and looks around for any other cat detterents.] If I need to get one of those click toys, I will! What, you go around threatning people after breaking into their homes?
[Wait a second.] You're the goblin king, aren't you?
[Either that or some poor guy lost on the way to a 70s couch expo.]
[And then the machine's gone. Morrigan stares for a long moment and then looks to his robe in case it's hiding there. It isn't.]
Thank yo-- Wait, no! I have a deadline, I need that back! Sure, it's a pain to use and you have to stomp on the pedal and kind of half pray that the thread takes, but it's still decent at what it does. Can you bring it back?
[The fae regards Morrigan with something like boredom before staring into nothing and slowly tilting his head as if he's checking some internal rule book.]
What's said is said.
[Oh. She wants it that bad does she? He could work with this angle. The man slowly closes the gap between them and looks about as menacing as someone covered in half a pound of Hobby Lobby grade litter can and circles around her.]
Forget about that old machine. Go back to your sandwich.
[He circles her one more time and then points to the window he dive-kicked open. It no longer looks out over her yard but over a dusty, otherwordly landscape that only looks a little like Detroit. There is a sprawling maze and at its center, what's trying very hard to be a castle.]
It's there. In my to-sell pile. I make a good profit off Ebay from antiques and yours will fetch me quite a pretty faerie penny.
[Morrigan squints and studies the landscape.] That doesn't look that horrible.
[Ignoring the whole "btw your landscape vanished" trick, she rolls up her sleeves and heads towards the window.] You're gonna have to get your pennies from somewhere else.
[With a grunt, she hefts one leg and starts to climb out of the window.] I meant what I said-- I've got a deadline.
[The Goblin King finds himself conflicted. On one hand, he wants to be insulted by this mortal's sheer lack of AWE at his presence and clearly impressive magical prowess. But on the other...she is feisty! Maybe this won't be so boring after all.]
[He drifts by her and swishes his cape again. Morrigan's cozy home spirals away into The Void and the two of them are alone on a hill top. There is glitter everywhere. It kind of looks like a Kirland's threw up out here.]
Very well. If you can make it to the center of the labyrinth before the bidding on your sewing machine ends, you can have it back.
[He turns and watches her go. Now that is a lady who has places to be. He hums to himself and disappears in a flourish of gaudy glitter.]
[The labyrinth wall rises menacingly as Morrigan nears it. The outside is carved with twisted faces set with gems and warnings scrawled in a language older than man. There is also a mailbox overflowing with unopened letters.]
[Morrigan stares at the different faces and gems, frowning at the language she doesn't understand. She eyes the mailbox and then walks past it and into the labryinth proper.] Okay, let's see.. Starting north, and..
[The walls are high and the bricks appear damp. Upon closer inspection, it's just more glitter. The stuff is fucking everywhere. The labyrinth itself is as straightforward as a labyrinth can be. Turning corridors, dead ends, warnings, and bones litter Morrigan's path.]
[Morrigan frowns and half wishes she'd brought an umbrella since it seems to be raining the stuff. Morrigan takes a random corridor and watches for anything that might leap at her.] Sheesh, how much glitter did you spill in here?
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theattic2016-01-03 07:30 pm
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Well, that's what happens when "heirloom quality" is taken to mean "as long as it looks old but doesn't function properly". She'd cursed Singer and all they stood for, then cursed every other manufacturer she could think of.
When that had quit being fun, she grabbed a book off of her local library's shelf. Something about goblins or fae, or fae goblins. Either way it was the kind of mindless drivel that helped her refocus.]
Stupid machine won't even load thread correctly and I have to stomp on the pedal to make it work.. [She grumbled, settling into her sewing room's couch as she read. It was the same old stuff-- goblins and fae are centuries old, blah blah, show respect, everyone dresses like they escaped a beginner's fantasy art class. The usual. Flipping a page, she arched an eyebrow.] ..How to get the goblin king to take away something?
[She looked over at the table, where the machine sat like boehemeth of bad ideas and even worse technical deisgn.] Fine. [Clearing her throat, Morrigan sat up a little.] I wish the goblin king would take away this malfunctioning sewing machine right now.
[Snapping the book closed, Morrigan exited the room and headed for the kitchen with a thrown in,] Not like I've got deadlines to meet or anything,. oh no. Not at all!
no subject
[The Goblin King coughs a few times as some of said pixie dust had gotten lodged in his throat before he stands up straight and places his hands on his bony hips, hoping that his hideous 70's sofa robe will distract from his unimpressive frame.]
You called?
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...Sofa robes can really look like fur in a split second. She aims and fires rapidly with] Out! GO!
[And then realizes what she's doing, that it's NOT some cat pile, and slowly takes a step back.] ...Who're you?
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What in-- phhptt! Phttth!
[It's just making the pixie dust stick to him and everything else even worse. Once he catches sight of his attacker, he outstretches a hand and changes her spray bottle into a pile of wiggling mice.]
HOW DARE YOU! You summon me here in the middle of my soaps and this is how you welcome me! I should spirit away your head along with--
[What had she called for? He turned in place, his robe swishing around his pleather boots. His otherworldly senses tingle as his eyes fall on the sewer. What in the unseelie was that old thing? Some sort of torture device? Well...sigh. Spells are spells and rules are rules.]
--that.
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[Ok weird. Very weird. She studies him for a long moment and when he makes a threat she frowns and looks around for any other cat detterents.] If I need to get one of those click toys, I will! What, you go around threatning people after breaking into their homes?
[Wait a second.] You're the goblin king, aren't you?
[Either that or some poor guy lost on the way to a 70s couch expo.]
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[He crosses the floor and grabs the edge of his robe. With a swish, he passes it over her sewing machine and HOCUS POCUS it disappears.]
You're quite welcome.
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[And then the machine's gone. Morrigan stares for a long moment and then looks to his robe in case it's hiding there. It isn't.]
Thank yo-- Wait, no! I have a deadline, I need that back! Sure, it's a pain to use and you have to stomp on the pedal and kind of half pray that the thread takes, but it's still decent at what it does. Can you bring it back?
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What's said is said.
[Oh. She wants it that bad does she? He could work with this angle. The man slowly closes the gap between them and looks about as menacing as someone covered in half a pound of Hobby Lobby grade litter can and circles around her.]
Forget about that old machine. Go back to your sandwich.
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[Damn.]
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It's there. In my to-sell pile. I make a good profit off Ebay from antiques and yours will fetch me quite a pretty faerie penny.
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[Ignoring the whole "btw your landscape vanished" trick, she rolls up her sleeves and heads towards the window.] You're gonna have to get your pennies from somewhere else.
[With a grunt, she hefts one leg and starts to climb out of the window.] I meant what I said-- I've got a deadline.
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[He drifts by her and swishes his cape again. Morrigan's cozy home spirals away into The Void and the two of them are alone on a hill top. There is glitter everywhere. It kind of looks like a Kirland's threw up out here.]
Very well. If you can make it to the center of the labyrinth before the bidding on your sewing machine ends, you can have it back.
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[Clever, Goblin King.] Tell me that first, then I'll tell you if I agree to it.
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[He drifted by her again, his feet hovering showily above the weeds.]
Thirteen and a half hours. Or best offer.
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[Sinc he looked like he was finished, Morrigan started down the nearest path, nodding confidently.] Plenty!
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[The labyrinth wall rises menacingly as Morrigan nears it. The outside is carved with twisted faces set with gems and warnings scrawled in a language older than man. There is also a mailbox overflowing with unopened letters.]
[Somewhere, someone is humming.]
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[She falls quiet as she keeps walking.]
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