i know that i've got issues, but you're pretty messed up too.
either way, i found out i'm nothing without you.
A heart-wrenching howl rises from the dog’s lips. The door bursts open, revealing a teenage girl standing in the doorway. About 5’7 with an oval-shaped face, bright blue eyes with a slightly oriental-looking slant, a button nose and high cheekbones, she’s neither outstandingly beautiful nor repulsively ugly, but just sort of average-looking. She has a thick mop of copper-brown hair which falls mostly straight, but curls off at the ends and bounces wildly off her shoulders, flying about her person with every small movement. Although generally well-proportioned with an hourglass figure, she shows signs of having lost of a lot of weight in only a short period of time, and is starting to hit the point of looking almost too thin. Thank the famine for that.
Silently, Poppy contemplates the scene in front of her. Her harlequin Great Dane familiar, Penguin, is cowering in the middle of the room and trying (impossible at his size) to look small and insignificant. This appears to be one of the spare bedrooms; a huge four-poster dominates the room, opposite a beautifully carved oak wardrobe and a full length mirror. To the right is a door – presumably leading to an en suite – and on the far wall is a massive, million year old tapestry which is on fire. Penguin has had Poppy’s uncontrollable divinity for a while now, but it doesn’t seem to dominate his day-to-day life the way it does hers, and he doesn’t have as many problems with magic going haywire around him. This is obviously his turn to experience the curse.
Without pausing, she crosses the room, tears down the tapestry (which is surprisingly heavy) and shoves it out of the only window. It burns all the way to the ground, where it hits the water with a dull hiss as the flames are extinguished – but Poppy doesn’t stick around to watch it. Wincing loudly, she legs it into the en suite and shoves her hands under the cold tap, watching as her magic kicks in and starts to heal over the burn marks. It manages to completely heal her skin but not cure the pain, which remains in the form of a dull throb. Switching off the tap, Poppy stomps back into the bedroom, where Penguin is sniffing at the now-bare wall with interest.
“When magic goes nuts like that,” Poppy scolds him, “you need to react, okay? You can’t just lie around do nothin’. You could have put that fire out with your immense reserves of drool, you know.”
BANG.
There’s no warning. One minute she’s talking to Pingu, the next the ground has given way beneath her feet and she’s freefalling with the cold air whipping her face. She barely has time to register her shock before she lands on something soft; the impact snaps her head backwards, and she looks up to see a reasonably large hole in the ceiling. Penguin is poking his monochromatic face through the hole and grinning in a really annoying way.
“Now Poppy,” he calls down, “When magic goes nuts like that, you need to react - you can’t just lie around doing nothing.”
Poppy responds by waving a couple of fingers at him, before sitting up to see what she’s landed on. To her eternal embarrassment, she’s fallen straight into another person’s lap – and not just any old other person. It’s only her sort-of ex, Bryce, who she went on one date with before he disappeared off the face of Shaman and she went and married Draco. Awkward, much? He still looks as hot as ever.
“Hi Bryce,” she says after a very pregnant pause, “these old castles, eh? Can’t trust the ground you’re walking on.”
POPPY
and honestly,
my life would suck without you.
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