Disclaimer: In the words of Juliet Butler, "Ownership is like, you know, an illusion. Maybe we don't even own our own bodies. We could be, like, the daydreams of some greater spirit." Or a Sims game...

Author's Note: Firstly, I'm sorry for the abandonment and so as a reward, I've branched out. I have finally done a drabble about Minerva. Yes, Minerva Paradizo, the Canon Sue, the hated one. So here goes:

Ennui

(n.) a feeling of weariness and dissatisfaction arising from lack of interest

She always knew that she was a difficult person to please. Growing up in the lap of luxury with barely a whit of trouble to ever plague her days and an adoring father constantly cosseting her with extravagant gifts, perfection is ordinary.

But when he had drove his way doggedly into her life, she had thought that he just might be extraordinary. He was not perfect, that much was certain by his looks, pallid and awkward from the effects of puberty, but perhaps that was a good thing.

And daddy's dearest always gets her way. So she got him, caught him easily in her flower net, along with all the other joys she ever wished for. Nobel prizes and other distinctions lined her walls, flawless little children graced her life, and he catered to her every whim. But so, ennui still captured her in his insuperable palm.

And she was actually glad— no, ecstatic!— when he finally left; simply took off and left her and their monotonously perfect existence behind. And for what? For some idiot servant girl not half as beautiful or brilliant as she. For once in her life, she did not get the coveted prize.

Her hair was lopsided, her socks mismatched, and she reeked of that revolting smell of loss and failure known to all who dared to bear witness to the great fall of Minerva Paradizo. But she didn't really care.

Finally, finally she was free of that constant ennui; he had opened his hand and freed her into the world of loss, pain, and sorrow.

And she couldn't be happier.

Author's Note: So, what did you think? I'm afraid it was a ridiculous attempt to inject some character into bland old Minnie. Wanna flame me, congratulate me, whatever? Why don't you do it in this miraculous invention called a review?

It's probably really obvious who the "he" was, but bonus points and virtual cookies to whoever gets the identity of the "servant girl"! So review!

Lily