The Popcorn Room and Beyond (Open)
Ugh.
It wasn't as if Gert hadn't been dirty before. (You try living underground with a bunch of teenage fugitives, yeah?) But this was greasy and one sniff told her it was butter. Ugh! What the hell?
A 'RRRR' from nearby and a flash of razor-sharp claws set her at ease, though. A huge, leathery head nuzzled her hand like an oversized cat, and without a second thought, Gert let her hand be lifted. Nose still wrinkled, she was scratching absently at the scaly skin for a second before she realized that Old Lace was covered in the crap, too.
"Nice," she said aloud, and Old Lace nodded her head with a whuff of agreement. The stone screamed anachronistic early medieval, and it all started coming back. The freaky magic school.
She patted her pockets for a wand-- she'd had one somewhere, she knew. A HA! Alright... now what was that spell....? Banishing! That's right. So she did.
And found herself shirtless.
Swearing loudly, she glanced around, her very-much-not-Nico-like pudge showing over her reconfigured-appliqued-and-safety-pinned-and-barely-recognizable gray school skirt and making her self-conscious enough that Old Lace was reacting too. She had to think!
Two minutes later she walked out of the room sporting a tapestry that was probably older than dirt as a poncho, the set of her shoulders, eyebrow and Velociraptor Deinonychus begging someone to call her on it.
It wasn't as if Gert hadn't been dirty before. (You try living underground with a bunch of teenage fugitives, yeah?) But this was greasy and one sniff told her it was butter. Ugh! What the hell?
A 'RRRR' from nearby and a flash of razor-sharp claws set her at ease, though. A huge, leathery head nuzzled her hand like an oversized cat, and without a second thought, Gert let her hand be lifted. Nose still wrinkled, she was scratching absently at the scaly skin for a second before she realized that Old Lace was covered in the crap, too.
"Nice," she said aloud, and Old Lace nodded her head with a whuff of agreement. The stone screamed anachronistic early medieval, and it all started coming back. The freaky magic school.
She patted her pockets for a wand-- she'd had one somewhere, she knew. A HA! Alright... now what was that spell....? Banishing! That's right. So she did.
And found herself shirtless.
Swearing loudly, she glanced around, her very-much-not-Nico-like pudge showing over her reconfigured-appliqued-and-safety-pinned-and-barely-recognizable gray school skirt and making her self-conscious enough that Old Lace was reacting too. She had to think!
Two minutes later she walked out of the room sporting a tapestry that was probably older than dirt as a poncho, the set of her shoulders, eyebrow and Velociraptor Deinonychus begging someone to call her on it.