Lessons for the Dead Lesson one: Glorious and Disastrous
Beautiful Queen.
Stunning Queen.
Glorious Queen.
And behind their hands they would whisper
Tiny Queen.
Ungainly Queen.
Disastrous Queen.
Of course, it was true enough that the queen was needed. Queens were always needed. It just so happened that this particular queen was a little bit on the small side, a little bit ungainly, a little bit clumsy and way to smart. Of course, she wasn't fully an adult yet, so all of that would have time to change… hopefully.
The quill dripped black ink onto the skin in a slow and almost hypnotic rhythm. Nastusia's eyes were glazed and unseeing as she stared off into the future, the past, and the present all at once. Of course no one could see the future, but the images that passed in front of her gray eyes might come to be. Things had always been strange where Nastusia was concerned.
Slowly the ink blot grew on the skin and it began to threaten the words already written on the page.
It was only when a droplet of ink splashed up from the inkblot to spatter onto the pristine hide of the flitter curled up in the corner of the desk that Nastusia was slammed back from her unhappy day-dream to the here and now.
"STORM! STORM! Idiotic Flitter. CALM DOWN!" Nastusia yelled as she wrestled with the screaming and thrashing flitter.
"It's just ink, you wherry-brained dimglow! Stand still!"
With a hand skilled at administering horrible and bitter medication to cranky and moody weyrbrats, Nastusia deftly brushed her hand across the spot where the ink had been on Storm's hide and forced the enraged and confused flitter to calm down. There was a moment of tension, then Storm flickered between and it was only a few moments later that Nastusia felt him re-appear in the kitchens to bug and harass the drudges there.
Sighting in exasperation, Nastusia sat back and placed her hand over her mouth, her eyes closing in tired relief. It was only by a great dint of effort that she stopped herself from screaming in annoyance at the world.
A few second later, her hand was taken quickly off her face to reveal a great black splotch on her cheek. The spot was bright and visible against sickly and pale flesh, and it wasn't about to come off for a few days without a good hard scrubbing.
Nastusia's head thumped against the hard wooden desk as she let loose a groan. It was turning out to be one of those days again.