VII. Polygaymous.

[maleficentia]

Well, color me a blushing bride, if you can. If anyone else has matrimonial inclinations towards yours truly, I suggest they get the burning secret off their chest as soon as possible, because the boat is leaving for Iceland post-haste (this means you, Georgia). At least, I think Prudence said Iceland. She's the globe-trotter, not I

Comments

[cygnard]

Can I be the bridesmaid?

[maleficentia]

I don't see why not. This is a joyous time, and all should be involved.

[cygnard]

Don't make me wear anything hideous. Ruffles to a minimum, if you please.

[maleficentia]

I'm leaving that planning to the women. Ergo, watch your sleeves.

[cygnard]

Baptême.

[maleficentia]

Geshundtite.

But seriously, you're either telling me to drown or go get christened, and I haven't the slightest as to which it is.

[cygnard]

Sorry. Cursing.

[maleficentia]

My Dearest Juke, if you needed to apologize to anyone about foul language, I'm positive it wouldn't be me.

[cygnard]

Oh, come on. You studied in England, didn't you? You should know by now that people apologise for everything all over the Commonwealth.