Hello and welcome to Fanfiction. Like all of my earlier stories I have decided to redo this to make it shiny and, you know, halfway decent instead of the trash it was before. The old authors note has been removed, I was talking about year twelve and how you should not judge me, and I'll re-add that this short was originally thought up by a friend of mine and I found it funny enough that I had to write it. Okay we all good? Onward then!

Gisa was bored.

Sure finding graveyards with extra soft dirt was always a delight, and listening to the cheers of the random villagers she sent her ghouls after was always uplifting.

But it was all getting rather repetitive.

"Hmm…"

Gisa leant on her reinforced shovel and looked around the moors she was currently residing in. A few random dead shambled about groaning as they did but Gisa ignored them.

"What to do? What to do?"

Gisa hummed to herself and began wandering around. She occasionally wacked her shovel at a particularly slow undead and laughed when one staggered and fell to the ground.

She used it as a bridge to cross a puddle of… something even she couldn't fathom and wandered on.

As she wandered she got to thinking.

"I wonder what the sausage embroiderer is doing now?"

Gisa remembered the good old times when she could bother her brother whenever she desired, mocking him for knowing how to play the harpsichord while she delighted visitors with her lovely singing voice. Geralf may have claimed that she sounded like one of mummy's more fluent undead but that was exactly the point!

Whilst reminiscing she suddenly thought of one of her most entertaining memories, a memory she knew Geralf wallowed in shame, a memory that was so amusing to her she hadn't been able to conceive of the level of mocking that was needed for something so big.

Grinning, Gisa smacked her shovel into the ground, leant back on it and reminisced.

#Flashback#

Gisa was extra bored; terrorising the servants and summoning butlers to carry her around was fun and all, but she found it to be getting a tad repetitive.

Leaning on her parasol Gisa thought hard before coming to a great solution to her boredom: her brother Geralf would always, every Wednesday, lock himself in his room and it was completely forbidden to go in there until he was finished doing… whatever he did.

For a long time now she had wondered what he did in there but so far she hadn't been bored enough to bother finding out what her geeky brother did.

Gisa grinned as she strolled to her brother's room she hoped it was something bad so she could bust him.

As she walked she considered what name was most appropriate to call him today.

"Alchemeidiot? Nah to easy. Harpidiot? Nah done that one before. Accordiot? Psh that's too good for him."

Being so deep in thought had allowed Gisa to reach her brothers door without even realising it. Stopping suddenly she observed the big sign taped to the door that proclaimed that anyone and everyone was barred from entry lest doom fall upon them.

Deciding to ignore the "stay away" sign Gisa grabbed the doorknob and tried to turn it.

"Darn it's locked."

Disappointed and now more bored than ever Gisa considered just wandering off, bothering mummy for some cool necromancy practise. But the lure of the secret within Geralf's room was intoxicating, he was always so secretive and astute about this time on this day. Deciding that she was nothing if not resourceful, Gisa called upon her limited control of black mana and pushed it into the lock.

The door was considerably simple and it merely needed a stable enough object to turn and unlock the door. She tensed and a bead of sweat appeared on her brow and she carefully and quietly turned the lock.

It clicked with a satisfying sound and Gisa found the most civilised, dexterous, thing she had ever accomplished done.

She sagged in relief at such carefulness over and in complete disregard for her earlier dexterousness, turned the doorknob, and tore the door open.

…

… …

… … …

"By Avacyn's breasts!"

Gisa stared wide eyed and slack jawed at what she was witnessing.
Her shout caused Geralf to jump up in panic. He scrambled in panic as he tried to cover up exactly what he was doing while Gisa was in too much shock to anything but stare as Geralf ran around the place in panic.

Eventually he turned to her with his face redder than she thought could be possible and shouted "GISA WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? MY DOOR IS LOCKED! THIS IS MY ALONE TIME! MINE! GET OUT!"

Finally, after staring at him for much too long, she came back to her senses… and smiled… the smile became a giggle… the giggle became a chuckle… the chuckle became a full blown laugh.

"HAHAHA! I, I, I HA! C-can't wait to tell everyone what you were doing in here," Geralf's face did something interesting then. It went from red to redder than redder to a sallow, chalky white.

"Wh- wait… no please Gisa, no please don't tell anyone, please", Gisa stopped laughing to think for a moment, this was probably the biggest, bestest thing she could ever bust him for, but on the other hand should could get him to do literally anything she wanted to with this dirt, decisions, decisions…

#Flashback End#

Gisa giggled as she walked, thinking of that moment and what she made Geralf do for months afterwards.

It was a good time, a simpler time.

Looking around Gisa realized that she had walked near Geralf's pit of fake zombie making, also known as his home.

Deciding that if she was here she should check in to drive him crazier than he already was.

Getting past his skaab guards was easy enough, a few wacks with her shovel, a few real zombies summoned to fight and before she knew it she was in his house and then she was in front of his stitching room.

Not bothering to knock, she blasted her way through the door and sprinted inside her brother's laboratory, he wasn't there.

Not perturbed as she knew her brother well, Gisa walked over to the stitcher's table and pushed the headrest down. She was delighted at her brother's obviousness as this action opened a secret passageway which she ran down.

Blasting the door at the end of the passageway, Gisa stopped short.

She smiled.

The smile turned to a giggle.

The giggle turned into a chuckle.

The chuckle turned into side-imploding guffaws

"HAHAHA! GERALF AGAIN!?"

Gisa was greeted to the lovely sight of her brother frantically running about trying to hide the proof of what he had been doing, tearing them off his stationary skaabs.

Eventually he turned to Gisa, his face as red as it was the last time she caught him and he shouted. "WHAT THE HELL GISA? THIS IS MY HOME! YOU CAN'T JUST BARGE IN HERE WITHOUT AN INVITATION!"

Gisa could only laugh as Geralf tried and failed to hide all the wonderfully stitched quilts that he had created.

Hah. So there is the end to this short one-shot, that is now redone and probably much better. Just to clear up anything both times Geralf was making quilts. Hey every stitcher needs to start somewhere :P