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Nashaadh Sonjan

Illustration courtesy of Teepi Guest

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Breton Wager - 5

Breton was very tired all morning. The first half of the Thursday school day was less than pleasant. He didn’t even bother skipping through any of it.

Breton reached English class at 12:11 pm that day, and he was not feeling in the mood. Sixth period’s job was to write a chronological and sequential paragraph about what they had done so far that day. So far, Breton had tried to sleep and had been interrupted no less than thirteen times by none other than Christian. Sixth period was no exception.

Breton’s eyes were feeling droopy. Very droopy. He could barely keep them open as he rested his head down onto his desk. He was about to drift off into sweet, sweet slumber . . .

“My Day, by Christian Aubry. There! What do you think, Breton? Breton! Breton!” Christian was forcfully shaking Breton to the point where he almost fell out of the chair. “Breton! What do you think of the title of my piece? My Day, by Christian Aubry. Isn’t it studious?”

“Mhm,” Breton agreed tiredly. There were many times when Breton wished he was in fifth period English. This was one of them.

“I was thinking I could start out with the breakfast I had this morning: bacon, with eggs (over-easy), and three ounces of orange juice! A ate it while surveying my vast lawn (which is visible from my dining room window).”

One reason that Breton wished he was in fifth period English was that Rose was there and Christian was not. Even if he didn’t sit beside Rose, at least he wouldn’t be sitting to the right of Christian.

“And then after breakfast, I walked to school. Wait, even better, I’ll say I walked to Field High School! Doesn’t that just sound scholarly?”

A second reason Breton wished he was in fifth period English was that fifth period English had written a compare and contrast paragraph. Breton had the perfect idea for one of those. It could be, The Similarities and Differences Between Christian Aubry and His Puppet Counterpart, by Breton Bauerbecken.

“After arriving at school, the bookish boy (that’s me!) made his way to his first period class, where he used his academic brain to construct an A+ model in first period Science class!”

One similarity between the two entities was their efinity to bother Breton when he very much didn’t want to be bothered. A second similarity was the fact that both creatures were constantly trying to get him to agree with whatever words happened to spill out of their speaking gullets.

“Second and third period went just as well for the intellectual teen, and as he sauntered from class to class, he began to think ahead to Friday, when he would dress as the noblest of birds for the First Ever Annual Field High School Masquerade Ball!”

A third similarity between Christian and his puppet pal was the fact that they only seemed to be around him because he was possibly famous. Neither of them knew that he was actually a time walker, but they both knew that Ashley Sonjan was his aunt.

“At the Friday Masquerade Ball, the learned young man would amaze the beautiful Nashaadh Sonjan and finally free her from the filthy Roosevelt Otterton!”

Really, the only difference between the two was that one was a narcissistic sixteen year old boy, and the other was boastful, sloppily constructed children’s toy.

“What a hero he is, that brainy Christian Aubry!”

Too bad he was in sixth period English.

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Poor Margret - 5

Crabulul Iflanoonia worked in a small office with another girl named Nancyevelyn. Great-Uncle Crab glared at Esse as she walked through the door. Esse grinned at him. “Hello!” she said in a cheery voice. Crabulul began to growl. Esse shook her head sadly at him. “We are the police, and-” she began, but Crabulul cut her off. “You are not the police! You are that annoying childthat I see at family reunions!”

“Uh, huh. I see.” Esse turned to Kennen and whispered, “looks like we have a Code 5B2.” Kennen had no idea what this meant.

“Don’t you Code 5B2 me, missy!” Crabulul was shouting (actually, he was shouting a lot of other stuff as well that I will not repeat). As Crabulul continued shouting, (something about the police), and Esse was calmly pulling out from behind her back a paging device from who-knows-where, and all this was happening while Nancyevelyn slowly got up and told Crabulul, “Crabulul, steckte den Feuer-Blaster.” Uncle Crabulul sighed. From behind his back he pulled out a large hammer, and handed it to Nancyevelyn. Then he watched helplessly as Nancyevelyn handed it to a grinning Esse.

“What just happened?” Kennen asked as they walked back to the office. Esse grinned. “Well,” she began. “to begin with, I know Nancyevelyn because she is my 2nd cousin once removed and she’s a famous wizard. Code 5B2 means ‘angry relative wielding a fire blaster’, and so I took that pager from Nancyevelyn’s desk and paged Annaig to let him know we’re coming. Then, Nancyevelyn went up to Crabulul and told him to put down the fire blaster. She knows I’ll take good care of it.” Kennen just nodded. “How does it work?” he asked.

“Like this,” Esse said. She hit the ground with the hammer and flames shot out of the top. “This is our supplies” she said.

Annaig was amazed by the fire blaster, and agreed to get them a portal right away. “But what about your family Esse? And Nurse Moss?” Kennen asked. Esse shrugged. “We’ll only be gone for a little while anyway.” she told him. Annaig wrote a new message on the wall.

You have to jump into my eye.

“Okay…” Esse said. She jumped up on the desk and leaped into Annaig’s eye. Kennen flew in after her.

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The Christian

Illustration courtesy of Teepi Guest

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Breton Wager - 4

Breton went home that day on the bus with Rose. Rose sat on Breton’s lunch twice, and then he sat on Tony’s lunch, and by that point they were home and there were no more lunches to sit on.

Breton entered his house and was pleased. He could hear his mother in the kitchen and his father in the parlor. He had little homework, and he would complete it in the kitchen beside his mother, with his father in view. It would be a good ending to his Wednesday.

Breton took a seat at the kitchen table. His mother was making soup.

“Welcome home, Breton, how was school?” she asked, tossing carrots with a flourish.

“Indeed, Breton! How was you day?” echoed his father from his seat in the parlor.

“May I go to the Masquerade Ball on Friday?” Breton asked his parental unit.

“By yourself?” his mother asked, adding beets to the supper stew.

“I was planning on attending with Nashaadh and Rose,” Breton explained.

“Oh, Nashaadh! How is she?” his father asked. “You know, I haven’t called Ashley in quite a while.”

“And Rose,” his mother added. “When’s the last time we saw Rose? What’s his real name again?”

“Roosevelt,” Breton answered, assuming that this meant his masquerade attendance was approved.

“Ah, yes, named after that old president we had all that time ago!” Breton’s mother continued on.

“I think I shall call Ashley right now,” Breton’s father mused from the parlor.

Breton quietly slipped out of time.

It had been a rewarding but long day, and Breton had gotten about half an hour closer to bedtime when he heard a familiar voice.

“Breton! Breton! Are those your parents?” the Christian floated in through a wall, floppy arm dangling exasperatedly.

“Yeah,” Breton said. He wasn’t certain why, but once again, he found himself stopping his forward progression to wait for the Christian.

“They are adults, you know. Awfully so. Well above the age of eighteen. I shall approve of one parent at a time, please,” the Christian commanded boastfully.

Breton began to continue forward towards bedtime. He felt the Christian’s arms bumping against his head as he walked.

“Your father is the brother in law of Ashley Sonjan, correct?” the Christian asked forcefully.

“Yes,” Breton answered, really only half paying attention to the loud puppet. It really did remind him of the real Christian.

“Nikodemus Bauerbecken, brother of Ashley Sonjan. Patterson and Ashley Sonjan. Two daughters: Nashaadh Sonjan and Naulii Sonjan,” the Christian recited, as if this memorization of facts was even at all worth showing off.

“Interesting,” Breton mumbled distractedly.

“Ashley Sonjan invented the equation for time travel,” the Christian continued. “Are you special, Breton? Or is your aunt the real hero of the story?”

Breton jumped back into time with a smack, hitting his bed with much more force than he meant to. He didn’t sleep well that night.

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Poor Margret - 4

“Yikes!” Esse said, following Kennen’s gaze upward to the ceiling. “Kennen, whose eyes are those? They’re humongous!”

“And they talk to me too.” Kennen told her.

“Really? Kennen, are you insane? Maybe we should call your sister, Heavenly Evenly.”

“No, Esse, look at the walls.” Kennen said.

“Yikes!” Esse said, looking around. “Kennen, did you do this?”

“No.” Kennen answered. “Annaig did.” Suddenly, Esse let out a little squeak. Kennen looked up.

Hello, Essy. Are you a friend of Kennen’s? My name is Annaig.

“Um.” Esse said. “it’s E-S-S-E.” Annaig corrected his mistake. Esse nodded approvingly. “He seems nice.” she told Kennen. Annaig drew a large heart around Esse’s name. “I think Annaig likes you too.” Kennen answered her.

Soon, Esse and Kennen had moved all of Esse’s work into Kennen’s Office. “The floor is too slippery.” Esse said. “Besides, I need more company to work happily.” Kennen’s job that day was to was to go through everyone’s files and see who had a criminal record. Esse’s was to go through the files of the people just moving to The Land of Nimm. “Hey,” Esse said, pulling out a file. “Here’s your sister.” Kennen leaned over to read. It said:

The File of:

Heavenly Evenly likes to eat at elevenly LALALALALA Pie. DODODO, NANANA, Tickle some type of fly Mamamel Pastamaker

“What in the world? Is that really her full name?” Esse asked.

“I never told you?” Kennen answered.

“Does she like pie?” Esse asked. Kennen shrugged. “I would think so. Can’t you look in her file?” he asked. Esse opened it. There on the first page it read:

Likes Pie:Yes/No/Limited

Job: NonDominant Animal Psychiatrist

“Huh.” Esse said. “The pie a bit of a strange thing to put in a file.” Kennen shrugged. “Not if you’re Heavenly Evenly.” he said.

Some time later, Kennen found his first criminal record. “Hey, Esse, did you know that Emelea and her children have a criminal record?” he asked. Esse leaned over to see. “Well, I guess Luc never told me the story.” Esse answered. “Then I will.” Kennen began:

The Story of Emela’s Children

Once upon a time, there lived a girl named Emelea Grapis, one of the most criminal masterminds to this day. Emelea’s husband had run away after she threatened to drop 16 bananas on his head, leaving Emela with her two children. Their names were Heteb and Zoeabby. When Heteb was 16 years old, and Zoeabby was 3, Emelea launched the Great Kidnapping Thing. Queen Alissa lived in a beautiful palace on top of the hill, and because Emelea was the evil twin of her sister, Mistress Amelia, she was invited to live with Queen Alissa. Queen Alissa had three children; Aras, Tanyaasha, and Izzy, who were all kidnapped within a week. Here is how Emelea did it: Zoeabby, even though she was only three, could already speak fluently in English, Lithuanian, and German. So every night, Zoeabby would go through the hall outside Queen Alyssa’s part of the castle with her mother’s cloak on, and sing: “Aš miręs nuotaka aš sakau ‘boo!’ jums bus išsigandęs. BOO!” (the spell works better when said in Lithuanian. Besides, everyone there was from New Forkie, and so saying it in a language no one probably understood was a good idea.) Zoeabby would happily knock out anyone who was within three feet of her (this usually got a nosy princess listening at the door). Zoeabby would then grin and run off to get her mother. Emelea would take the cloak from Zoeabby, and go kidnap the nosy princess at the door. After the first three kidnappings, Emelea decided to kidnap all the other children in the building. She started with Queen Eneel’s children; Meuh and Raychell, and then to everyone else's children. Unfortunately, Emelea made the mistake of kidnapping Judge Anna’s granddaughter, and Judge Anna arranged a meeting with Neemzay, the genius of the castle, who was kidnapped soon after that, and working on means of escape. Judge Anna’s daughter, Queen Airuhbelluh, took a wild guess and got Heteb arrested. One of the queens, Queen Avarose, went insane and kidnapped Zoeabby. Emelea knew that she could either give herself up, and help the children, or run away and leave them. Emelea, knowing how a good parent should act, threw square-shaped dogs at anyone who tried to ride an elephant, and ended up escaping with her children as well (the kidnapped children were found two weeks later by Judge Anna and Inspector Ollie).

“Wow.” Esse said. “I had no idea.”

“Neither did I.” Kennen agreed. They continued while talking about Emelea’s children.

But soon after that, Kennen picked up a new file. “Hey Esse, look at this.” he said. Esse leaned over to see. The file read,

File of Lucjusz Bnmq Erty

“Oh.” Esse said. She looked confused and sad. “Luc has a criminal record? What does it say?”

“Yeah. About that. It’s weird because, you know, no one but us a Weasel Water lou are supposed to touch these but, well, I’ll just show you.” Kennen flipped open the first page and handed the file to Esse.

Status: Deceased LIVING!!!

Or else prove that he’s dead!

“Whoa.” Esse said. “So Luc isn’t a criminal. Who would do that?” Kennen shrugged. “Well, he sighed his name at the bottom.” Kennen said, showing her.

Helpful Comments by Ulul Iflandoonia

“WHAT?!” Esse said. “My Great-Uncle Crab wrote this? Uh!” Kennen looked puzzled. Esse explained for him. “My great-Uncle Crabulul is so rude. But somehow he became a critic, and since he’s a quickwolf, he’s made it his business to go everywhere people want him out of.”

“What’s a quickwolf?” Kennen asked.

“Quickwolves can go so fast, that they vibrate through walls and stuff like that.” Esse answered.

“Wow. So he got into our files?” Kennen said, leafing through the others to see if Crabulul had made any other comments. “Hey, um, Kennen, Annaig is talking to you.” Esse said. Kennen looked up.

Are you sure Luc really is dead?

“Well, um, yeah, right Kennen?” Esse answered.

“Well, yes, I saw it happen! Wait, no. I mean, I saw him go all limp but maybe…” Kennen said, thinking hard.

Maybe you should find out. If you go get supplies from Crabulul I can teleport you wherever you want.

“Oh, Annaig! I want to hug you!” Esse said, jumping up and down. “C’mon, Kennen, let’s go to Great-Uncle Crab!”

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Christian Aubrey

Illustration courtesy of Teepi Guest

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Breton Wager - 3

After Rose returned with the pens, Breton got to work on the posters. He sat on the stage across from Rose, who, despite his previous claim, was not being of much help at all. Nashaadh bustled around backstage, moving boxes and hanging the posters that Breton completed.

“Breton, are you going to the Masquerade Ball on Friday night?” Nashaadh asked after a little while.

“I’m going!” Rose interjected before Breton could even conceive an answer. “I’m going with Nashaadh,” he added.

“You really should come with us, Breton,” Nashaadh invited.

“Aw, Nashaadh, do you have to go and invite your cousin?” Rose pouted.

“Rose, he’s your friend too!” Nashaadh scolded. “It’s a school hosted event, he should go anyway!”

“I know, I was just kidding,” Rose said calmly. “You should definitely come, Breton.”

“How?” Breton asked, not pausing his decoration of Nashaadh’s posters.

“Well, I’m going as a phoenix,” Nashaadh reminisced, setting down a box and plopping down beside Breton and Rose. “All red and yellow and fire . . .”

“And I’m going as a parrot,” Rose shared, scooting closer to Nashaadh. “All color and sleek good looks.”

Rose tossed his wavy, dark red head of hair. Nashaadh laughed.

“You really should go, Breton,” Nashaadh repeated.

“What would I go as?” Breton argued politely. “You guys already took phoenix and parrot.”

“You could be a woodnymph bird,” Nashaadh offered.

“Oo! Yes! You’d look good in purple, Breton!” Rose agreed, clearly enthused.

“You really would, Breton!” Nashaadh exhibited excitement. “There must be a beautiful indigo pattern jacket somewhere we can buy for you!”

“Yes! And I have these wonderful pants that will match gorgeously!” Rose continued.

“Ohmygosh, Breton, we are totally building your costume for you!” Nashaadh squealed. “You are coming on Friday!”

Breton remained silent as Nashaadh and Rose used the previously discarded markers to plan his costume. Silently, he was pleased. Nashaadh and Rose were his two closest friends. And although a Masquerade Ball sounded scary, if he went to one, he would want to go with Nashaadh and Rose.

Besides, with the Christian hanging around, it might be a good idea to live in the moment.

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Heyy, new writeblr! ^̮^ Pls REBLOG so I can follow you!

(and poetblr.)

—my writeblr and poetblr introduction—

To start off, my name is Ashiya. I am an infp and I am sixteen (and probably bisexual and genderfluid🌈). I like writing as a means to relax…and when I say writing it’s mosty WIP’s. I start but I never finish. Like the water cycle. It never ends. Unless you wield magic powers to control elements(waterbending)- which is kind of how I am hoping this blog will be to me. Break this vicious cylce that is bringing me closer and closer to self destruction…ok so maybe it’s not that dramatic but I hope I’ve gotten my point across?

As I’ve mentioned: I am new here and I’m (obviously) looking for some blogs to follow so I am just going to shamelessly ask if you guys could reblog this so I can know who you are!

Also, just a heads up. My actual writing is definitely not like this ^^^

I’m just super tired at the moment so my grammar is all over the place. And I sometimes use lower case in my poems for aesthetic purposes  😅 😋

Sooo, see ya!

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Poor Margret - 3

The Royal Residence Room was a huge domed ballroom-like space. Beams of light ricocheted off the purplish yellow walls. Mist swirled around the feet of the bewildered Esse and Kennen. Kennen was on his feet because he had lost his ability to fly. “Esse!” Kennen gasped. “I can’t fly!”

“Must be security.” Esse mused. She had busied herself reading the labels by the doors. “Here we are!” Esse said, pointing to a label that read ORDERER GEMMA ELIZABETH’S ROYAL RESIDENCE. She knocked on the door. The door opened. And Orderer Gemma stood in the doorway. “Esse! Kennen!” she said in surprise. “What are you doing here?” Esse explained the idea she had had to come here, and Kennen told about Sir Anerapell and Sir Nek VI. Orderer Gemma sighed. “Those two.” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll give you a real tour.”

After Orderer Gemma’s real tour, Kennen felt better and Esse had gotten over Sir Nek VI’s terrifying ness. They had gone home, and they had told Nurse Moss their adventures, and they had slept, and woken up, until it was Wednesday. On Wednesday, Kennen awoke in his office, which Orderer Gemma had told him and Esse would happen. As Kennen sat waiting for Esse to wake up, he studied the walls. They were, in fact, not covered in scribbles, but in words that were overlapped on each other. Kennen stared harder. There were only three sentences written. The first, over by the window, said

I wouldn’t eat that if I were you.

The second, all clustered around the door, said

Don’t go! Stay! Stay!

Each of these was followed by a number, such as 28, 35, or 57. The highest number Kennen could find was 118. But the strangest message of all was written almost everywhere in the room, overlapped many times. It read

My name is Annaig, look up. ^

Very, very slowly, Kennen raised his eyes up to the ceiling. And he saw them. The two eyes stuck in his ceiling, which were staring at him right now.

Hello, Kennen

Anniag said. And Kennen noticed new messages he never noticed before.

Hello, Davide

Hello, Yam

Hello, Chico

Hello, Leugim

Hello, Luiza

Hello, Aidalac

And many other names, covering the ceiling around the eyes. Which were still watching Kennen. Suddenly, the door opened and in strolled Esse. “Hey, Kennen. Happy Wednesday!” Esse said. “What’s so interesting about the ceiling?”

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Breton Bauerbecken

Illustration courtesy of Teepi Guest

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Rose Otterton

Illustration courtesy of Teepi Guest

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Breton Wager - 2

After the Christian’s declaration, Breton lost control of the time and was yanked back to Math class. He hit the chair with an, “Oof!” A girl behind him gave him a look, and then continued punching numbers into her calculator. The bell rang, and it was time to pay attention.

Breton turned to the front of the room to watch the teacher. Mr. Brown crossed to the center of the room with great purpose.

“Today! We shall be learning the equation to time travel! Singular One! Let us begin!” Mr. Brown executed every word with a flourish.

Breton decided he no longer wanted to sit through this and with a wink of his eye, slipped out of time.

Breton began to walk towards 9:08, when free period began. He made it halfway down the hallway when he felt the pain hit his head again. What was he doing in Math class? Well, he would know soon enough. He began making his way to the auditorium.

“I suppose you think you’re too good for Math class, then,” the Christian’s voice floated to Breton’s ears, the Christian floating behind it. “You’re such a special time walker, you don’t need to sit through time travel equations.”

Breton wasn’t sure why, but he found himself waiting for the Christian to catch up with him.

“Well?” the Christian asked, reaching Breton’s shoulder. “Are we feeling special this morning?”

“I already know the equation for time travel,” Breton explained as be continued to progress to 9:08.

The Christian followed him closely. “You know, other people would know it too if they were born with special abilities like you, Breton!” he replied derisively.

“I could tell them if they asked,” Breton offered.

“I could tell them if they asked,” the Christian mocked.

Breton reached 9:08 and snapped back into time. The smack of his return caused him to stumble somewhat down the auditorium stairs.

“Breton!”

Two children Breton’s age, his two friends, were the only people in the otherwise empty auditorium. Nashaadh and Rose waved as Breton made his way towards them.

“There you are!” Rose exclaimed. “We were going to start without you!”

“Rose was going to start without you,” Nashaadh clarified. “I would have waited.”

“What were you going to start without me?” Breton asked.

“We’re making posters with things like, Don’t Touch the Lighting Equipment and stuff like that,” Rose answered.

“Since I’m the Backstage Manager and no one else does anything useful around here,” Nashaadh sighed resignedly, picking up a stack of poster paper.

“Hey! I help!” Rose complained. “Look! I brought markers!”

“I know you help, Rosie. And Breton does, too,” Nashaadh quelled Rose. “Thanks, by the way, both of you. Neither of you are even on stage crew.”

“We were hoping you could do the drawings,” Rose said to Breton. “‘Cause you’re good at that kinda thing.”

Rose handed Breton the markers and placed the poster paper in his hands. Nashaadh headed backstage.

“I only draw with pens and ink,” Breton spoke.

“Oh! Well! Mr. Special over here!” Rose cried out. “Only draws with pens!”

Breton was reminded of something.

“Rose! Calm down!” Nashaadh said orderly, returning from backstage with a box full of costumery. “Breton, I’m sure there are some pens in the Art room I can go find for you.”

“The equation for time travel is ((0 − 273.15) × 95 + 32)K + T over 1s(D) times SE,” Breton declared. Nashaadh and Rose stopped what they were doing and looked at him.

“Um, thank you, Breton, but . . . why, I mean, we already know that . . . I can get you some pens, if you want,” Nashaadh spoke uncertainty, placing the box of costumes on the floor of the stage.

“Yeah, because Nashaadh’s mother invented the equation for time travel,” Rose shared loudly.

“Rose, hush,” Nashaadh muttered, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you go get Breton some pens from the Art room.”

“What? Why me?” Rose whined. “It just started getting interesting!”

“Rose, please,” Nashaadh asked of him.

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” Rose gave in, jumping off the stage and making his way up the auditorium stairs. “But you guys better not start without me!”

The auditorium door slammed behind Rose as he exited the room.

Nashaadh took a seat on the edge of stage and gestured for Breton to sit beside her. He did.

“Breton,” she stated. “Are you alright?”

“I’m being haunted by a B- Art project,” Breton shared with his cousin. There was a pause as Nashaadh looked off into the distance.

“Out of time?” she asked.

Breton nodded.

“Do you want to talk to my mother about it?”

There was another pause as Breton looked off into the distance.

“Not yet,” Breton decided.

“Okay,” Nashaadh finished.

There was a silence.

The auditorium door slammed. “I’m back!” Rose announced. “And I brought lots of pens!”

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Poor Margret - 2

Esse and Kennen were two minutes early. They waited in the lobby. Kennen flew around the room, picking up falling stars that had fallen from the top of The Meadow of Nimm overnight. Esse created little constellations on the table. After a little while, Sir Anerapell, (directly translated meaning Sun Spirit Guy with the Moonish Nose) flounced into the room. He grinned at Kennen and Esse, his glowing blonde hair and crescent nose almost scaring them out of their wits. “I will be escorrrrting you through the palace!” Sir Anerapell told them in his squeaky high-pitched Decneleb accent. He grinned even wider. “O-kay.” Esse stammered. Kennen was too freaked out to say anything at all. A man came around from behind Sir Anerapell. “This is Sir Neeeeeek the sixtthhhhhhh.” Sir Anerapell hissed at them. (Directly translated, Nek means Great Life, but Lacking Creativity of Death) Sir Nek VI was an old, old, old, old, old, old man, having never died before. Sir Anerapell grinned again. “We shall now begin our tourrrr, shall weeee?” he prompted.

The tour was no fun for Kennen. He had to perch on Sir Anerapell’s finger, while he flounced and gestured wildly around the room. Kennen knew Esse wasn’t having fun either. She had a look of disgust and terror on her face, having been made to let Sir Nek VI escort her down the halls. Finally, they reached the room marked WEASEL WATER LOU, SECRETARY TO MASTER CAMERON AND MISTRESS AMELIA. Flouncing into the room, Sir Anerapell showed Esse the writing on door to the left of the room. On the door it read ESSE IFLANDOONIA, ASSISTANT SECRETARY TO MASTER CAMERON AND MISTRESS AMELIA. Esse’s office was quite nice. The walls were ice-like glass, as well as the floor and ceiling. Non-melting icicles hung from the ceiling. A snow-like rung lay across the floor. That was when something very strange happened. Sir Nek VI lifted Esse off her feet and dropped her on the snow-like rug. This was too much for Esse, who shuddered, rolled her eyes back in her head, and fainted. Kennen shuddered. Sir Anerapell grinned, flouncing toward the door marked KENNEN DAMANEL PASTAMAKER, ASSISTANT TO THE ASSISTANT SECRETARY TO MASTER CAMERON AND MISTRESS AMELIA. Opening the door, Kennen took in his new office. The white walls looked like a small child had scribbled on them, using lots of different colors. The ceiling was green, and had two eyes that were blinking down at Kennen. On the bright yellow floor was a red rug shaped like the letter R, on which Kennen was dropped. And then the tour guides were gone. This was the end of the tour.

Kennen rushed into Esse’s office. She was lying on the snow-rug, still unconscious. “Esse,” Kennen whispered, nudging Esse’s arm. “Wake up! They’re gone!” Esse moaned and rolled over. “Where am I?” Esse asked, sitting up.

“In your new office.” Kennen told her. Esse nodded. “Yeah, I was kind of, um, paralyzed with terror when Sir Nec-m VI brought me in here.” she explained. Kennen nodded. “I noticed.” he said.

“But, I guess we should be going now, so, let’s go.” Esse got up and strolled over to her desk. “Look at this.” she said, picking up a sheet of paper. Kennen flew over. “It’s a map.” he observed. “The tour guides must have dropped it.”

“Look!” Esse said, pointing at the map. “There’s Orderder Gemma’s room!” Kennen looked. In small letters, a sighed read ORDERER GEMMA ELIZABETH, 5TH DAUGHTER TO MASTER CAMERON AND MISTRESS AMELIA. “Let’s go say hello!” Esse said, dashing out of the room. “Wait!” Kennen called, flying after her. They went down many halls until they reached a door marked ROYAL RESIDENCE: IMPORTANT PERSONAL ONLY. “We’re important.” Esse said, pushing open the door and rushing in. “Not until Wednesday.” Kennen muttered, before following Esse.

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Lucjusz (Luc)

Illustration courtesy of Teepi Guest

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Why intercept?

Why?

[pavilionaguest-blog]

Poor Margret

At first, Kennen didn’t know where he was. Then he remembered; sleepover with Esse at Nurse Moss’ house. Esse stood up and stretched. There were no need for beds in Nurse Moss’ house because the floor was so soft. Kennen pretended to be asleep. Esse changed and sat back on the floor. Checking the clock, Kennen had seen it was only 8:10. Nurse Moss woke at 9:30 on weekends. Suddenly Kennen realized: today was the day. This was Esse’s 13th birthday, or, her coronation of Assistant Secretary to Master Cameron and Mistress Amelia. Weasel Water Lou would be teaching her “the ways”. Even though work didn’t start until Wednesday, (and it was only saturday) Esse had been promised a private tour of the palace with Kennen. Kennen would be Esse’s assistant, making him the Assistant to the Assistant Secretary to Master Cameron and Mistress Amelia. Esse bounced over to Kennen to see if he was awake (you could bounce on Nurse Moss’ floor). “Kennen,” Esse whispered, poking Kennen’s wing. “Today is the day!”

“Hmm? What?” Kennen mumbled, opening his eyes and pretending to be tired. He honestly did want sleep. “I said today’s the day,” Esse repeated. “Now hop on my shoulder and we’ll go find Nurse Moss.”

“I can fly.” Kennen grumbled. Esse bounced out of the room, Kennen close behind her.

Flying into the kitchen, Kennen saw Nurse Moss preparing waffles. “Yummmmmmmmm.” Esse sighed. “Thanks, Nurse Moss.” Nurse Moss smiled. “Today’s the day!” she replied. “Hey, it’s my day too!” Kennen reminded her. “I know.” Nurse Moss said. “So I made you some seeds and berries. Raspberries, your favorite.” Kennen was awake now. With Kennen at the tabletop bird feeder, and Esse in her favorite cushiony chair, they munched their special breakfast. “Eat up!” Nurse Moss said to Kennen. “You’re too skinny!” Nurse Moss was always complaining about how skinny he was and NOT HOW PLUMP, MISS EVELYN FACE! His pale blue color made him look sort of sick. “You’ll want to hurry.” Nurse Moss said. “The tour starts in- goodness me! The clock stopped!”

“What!?” Esse cried, her fork clattering to the table.

“You have 20 minutes, so no walking.” Nurse Moss told them. “If we ask Doctor Lexie now, maybe we can borrow her MotorHuman360.” Doctor Lexie’s MotorHuman360 was not a human with a motor attached to it, nor a motor car that looked like a human. Doctor Lexie’s MotorHuman360 was simply a really fast guy named Niree who liked to say “vroom vroom.”.

“All right, let’s do it!” Esse said.

“Are you sure?” Kennen asked her. “You hate riding Niree.” Esse grimaced. “You told me that when you ride Niree, you feel too sorry for him, having to carry people around.” Kennen said.

“Well,” Esse considered. “We really should go now.” “Well then,” Nurse Moss said, standing up. “We better hurry before someone else asks.”

Soon, Kennen was flying behind Esse, who was on the back of a very pleased Niree, who loved talking to his riders. “How goes it, Miss If?” Niree said, using Esse’s nickname he gave her.

“Um, okay.” Esse gulped. Despite what Esse had told him, Kennen knew she was terrified. Because of Niree’s fast speed, Esse’s legs were flung out behind her, and she was clinging to Niree’s shoulders for dear life. Niree didn’t seem to notice anything that happened to his passengers. He couldn’t even really hear them. “Ah, yes, my grandmother lives there.” Niree responded. “We call her Grandma Lolch. Funny, isn’t it?”

“I, uh, yeah, um, okay.” Esse agreed. “Oh, yes, you’re right Miss If. That’s a great place to go camping. Grandma Lolch used to take me and R.A. there every winter.” Kennen sighed. Niree was nice, but kind of deaf.