A shimmering, sparkling trail dances through the town, masking mischief- rattling people’s shop signs, scooting their furniture half an inch to the left, loosening floor boards just enough to make them creak, rearranging people’s socks into mismatching pairs, stealing other people’s shoes and leaving them on the Baron of Blank’s doorstep. It isn’t a serious day today, for the Madgod. Today, he’s pure impish whimsy, formless and free.
Nimona's hanging out on the roof of the Oak & Iron when the sparks whisk by. The breeze ruffles her hair, clanking the chains of the inn's sign like a ghost. It seems to call her almost like Kora did: here there is freedom, there is fun, there's a way to rattle the boring normalcy out of people as easily as shaking those chains.
She grins.
Vaulting off the roof, she collapses into a matching trail of sparks and shoots after it.
The shimmering cloud of butterflies begin to take a more twisting, turning, ducking, diving route, as if challenging her to keep up. The echoing laugh of an old man emanates from the heart of the glimmer.
Eventually, it zips up to the rooftop of an artfully mismatched building in town.
Pfft, no sweat. Nimona matches it turn for turn, arc for arc, and spiral for spiral as they dart through the town. Once or twice, she even catches up. Pink spins in a dance around the tail end of purple before she falls behind again; somewhere, even though she can't make much noise like this, she's laughing, too.
At the edge of the building's roof, she flutters down as a moth, antennae twitching in curiosity.
Well, you could call me Anne Marie, but that’s if you fancy my ripping you open and skipping rope with your entrails. If, on the other hand, you’re not making a point of trying to upset me, you can call me Sheogorath.
She snorts. "Gotta have permanent entrails to use 'em for a skipping rope, buddy," she says easily, without offense, and then. " -- Ohhh. Hey, I do remember you!"
The moth disintegrates in a swirl of pink light. When the sparks clear, an equally pink cat crouches in front of the butterfly, nose-to-antennae.
Despite his reputation for impatience, Sheogorath seems content to listen to the growing list of animals. It's always good to know what windows a person has looked out through.
" -- and the shark and the porcupine and the armadillo and ooh, I was an alligator once while everybody was setting the ship on fire -- " She breaks off there, sighing happily. "Good times."
Beat.
"I mean aside from the part where it messed up Friday. I didn't know that was gonna happen. But I got to bite a chunk out of one of the chandeliers!"
Nimona pulls a face, considering. "Welllll they were kinda crunchy. And metal-y. But you know how sometimes you just wanna eat something that snaps?" She laughs, settling into a comfortable loaf. "Those snapped really good."
Nimona's eyes go wide, the image of a thousand crystal cups pushed off a thousand countertops dancing in her little kitty eyes.
"I know where I'm going first whenever the barrier's gone." A pause to reconsider. "Okay, second, I still wanna go back to the secret lair first, but right after that? Field trip to Jyggy's!"
"That'd be quite a trip, you know. The Sea of Oblivion's a turbulent place. Think it'd be worth it, to chew on the shower curtains of the Prince of 'Perfect Order?'"
Slowly, sloooooowly, Nimona's face splits into a grin, so wide it threatens to creep all the way up to her ears. She untucks her front paws so she can flex her claws against the rooftop.
Nimona matches his grin. Light glints off her incisors; in a blink, it shifts to a pink glimmer as the light swallows her whole body, dissolving her into the same pink streak as before. She zips away, trusting Sheo to follow.
This is gonna be the start of a beautiful friendship. Good luck, Pumpkin Hollow.
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Early December
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She grins.
Vaulting off the roof, she collapses into a matching trail of sparks and shoots after it.
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Eventually, it zips up to the rooftop of an artfully mismatched building in town.
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At the edge of the building's roof, she flutters down as a moth, antennae twitching in curiosity.
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I remember you, I think. A train horn. A change made of change. Food that vanishes from the countertop when the cook's back is turned.
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They kinda have a familiar vibe. That same I remember you, I think, with a shape and a name that doesn't want to settle on anything solid.
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The moth disintegrates in a swirl of pink light. When the sparks clear, an equally pink cat crouches in front of the butterfly, nose-to-antennae.
"You were on the ship too!"
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“You were the rhinoceros!”
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She keeps rattling off shapes with what seems like zero intention of stopping.
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Beat.
"I mean aside from the part where it messed up Friday. I didn't know that was gonna happen. But I got to bite a chunk out of one of the chandeliers!"
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Wait.
"Where'd you go that had glass shower curtains?"
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Nimona's eyes go wide, the image of a thousand crystal cups pushed off a thousand countertops dancing in her little kitty eyes.
"I know where I'm going first whenever the barrier's gone." A pause to reconsider. "Okay, second, I still wanna go back to the secret lair first, but right after that? Field trip to Jyggy's!"
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"Oh," she says, "fuck yes."
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"I see you've got the same distaste for things that tell other things how and what they should be. A pity we didn't meet sooner."
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She leans a little closer, dropping her voice to conspiratorial tones as her tail swishes back and forth.
"You wanna make up for lost time and go shove some snow down people's shirts?"
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"Do I."
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Nimona matches his grin. Light glints off her incisors; in a blink, it shifts to a pink glimmer as the light swallows her whole body, dissolving her into the same pink streak as before. She zips away, trusting Sheo to follow.
This is gonna be the start of a beautiful friendship. Good luck, Pumpkin Hollow.