The Adventures of Rippa the Great

by Aurora Kinship

In which a random mood from the author leads to some drabble which leads to this story. Just some fun I like to have, so if you like, come and join me. You have as much a clue as I as to where this is going; but isn't that half the fun?

4. A notsodaring escape

A/N: i'm so terribly sorry i haven't updated in awhile. i must admit i was distracted by life in general, and a bit discouraged from the lack of interest. but if anyone is out there and still likes this, i humbly dedicate my oddness to you.

So the castle was beautiful. And maybe it was the best use of the Baroque style she'd ever seen. And she might even admit that the bed she was currently lying on made her bed at home seem like a cot.

But you can only spend so many hours in admiration of the gilt, Rippa thought, before you're forced to realize that a cage is a cage is a cage. Rippa, being more perceptive, and perhaps a bit more resentful than most, already come to terms with that fact. And had spent her day working the old pins out of the hinges of the door with the very handy nail file she was playing with. I, for one, Rippa grinned, have an entirely new appreciation for beauty products.

The large picture windows to the left of the bed Sealed, of course, Rippa reflected bitterly; overlooked the restless sea underneath the moonlit night.

"Full moon," she said to no one in particular, "strange things are supposed to happen then, right? Well, I suppose I did need a bit of shaking up, but this is simply ridiculous."

The clock struck twelve; Rippa slithered over to the doorway and pressed her ear to the smooth wood, intent on hearing the snores of the fat old guard. Satisfied, she stood up; bracing her shoulder against the door as she pried the pins out the remaining way.

She let out a choked kind of groan as she stumbled under the sudden weight, and added a few silent expletives to that as she accidentally dropped the corner on her toes. She tugged and wiggled, but all that seemed to do was entangle that horrid dress further, and didn't relieve the pressure on her toes.

It was a long and epic battle betwixt our heroine and the inanimate object, but she eventually persevered, minus a chunk of the puce fabric of her dress. Not that she really minded; but she felt the need to stick her tongue out at the door anyways, just for form.

When she was at a safe distance, of course.