Disclaimer for the entire story: Sadly, I do not own Strange Magic, although I do have the DVD that I play once a week.
It's time for another Magical Mishap with Aura Plum and Ignatius Imp! Yes, I should be working on the last two stories for Sombreville, or at least one of the older plots on my very long list of Strange Magic story ideas, but instead, I had a llama-dressed plot bunny bouncing/pronking around my head courtesy of Danaknowsitall and it demanded satisfaction. I can only hope that life settles down enough for me to be able to return to writing like I want to but *shrugs* who knows. Constructive advice is appreciated but please refrain from criticism. Enjoy!
Side note for those on Discord: Sorry I haven't been on for a while. I've either been too busy or too tired, so if you've left me any messages in the past month, I haven't seen it. With the way things are going, I probably won't be on for yet a while longer.
Chapter 1/Becoming Unraveled
Now, one would think that breaking into a known witch's house is a very bad idea. A very bad idea that everyone would inherently know is a very bad idea and therefore never attempt to do so. In consequence, it would never occur to the witch to lock their doors and windows or to even cast a spell to ward off intruders.
It is very logical, after all.
However, the mess that greets Aura Plum when she returns home after a long day of working at her shop is not logical. Not logical at all. The broken glass vials, the busted chairs and tables, the various liquids pooling on the floor of the trashed room. Not one item is in the same condition it was in when they left this morning.
"Imp," Plum starts to growl towards the open-mouthed white Turkish Angora staring at the mess.
"I know nothing about this!" Ignatius interrupts after shifting to human form. "I was with you all day, remember? Besides, it's my stuff that's broken!"
His hands gripping his shoulder-length white hair at his scalp, Ignatius gingerly steps into his workshop to survey the rest of the damage and gives another cat-like screech to echo the one he made minutes prior when he discovered the horrid situation. The only thing that survived the disaster is his books still sitting inside their encased bookshelf and that was probably because of the potion he used on the glass that kept Aura from dusting his ancient tomes. Really, the infuriating woman just couldn't appreciate the lovely smell of dusty old books.
"Just look at this mess!" Ignatius wails. "All my potions, ruined! Weeks, months, years of work, all wasted! What monstrous cad would do something like this?!"
Cackling at his ingeniousness, Roland shakes the little bottle filled with pale pink liquid before placing it into his coat's inside pocket and returning his attention to the highway. Such a brilliant man is he. No other could have done half as well. Is it any wonder why he has it all?
A sneer crosses his perfect lips at that thought. Well, he would have it all if Marianne wasn't so...so...independent. Such an annoying and useless trait in such a lesser person. Only brilliant people like him deserved such independence. The lessers were there to do whatever higher people, such as himself, wanted.
How dare that child make him look like a fool?! After all that work he did to make her acceptable to be his partner! She should be grateful he even took notice of her!
Roland takes a deep breath to calm himself. Twisting the curl of blonde hair at his forehead around his forefinger and giving himself a smoldering wink in the rearview mirror, he returns his attention to the road.
No matter.
With this little potion, he'll fix everything. Marianne will be back under his loving care and stop those ridiculous habits she's gotten herself back into and he'll be back in Donald Flint's favor.
Scoffing as he passes a slow car in a no-passing zone, Roland rolls his eyes at the remembrance of his boss' ire yesterday. He worked hard to make that little minx estranged from her family and yet somehow that old man managed to find out about Marianne breaking up with him. Worse, he accused him, that inept idiot's only decent worker, of lying to him when he insisted that they were only having a lover's tiff! He'll show him!
Of course, he is magnanimous enough to forgive the poor sod for the insult. It only goes to prove that the old man needs to retire since he's clearly not thinking right. Well, obviously, since he completely bought that phony story about little Dawn's newest fling. Really, how could anyone believe that the kid bought a potion from an old hag to get rid of his love for Dawn, only for Dawn to realize that she loved him?! Seriously! It's obvious the little vagabond bought a love potion.
Sully...Sherry...Scampy...whatever that kid's name is, probably thought Donald would disinherit Marianne and announce Dawn as his heir before he kicked the bucket. But there's no way that orphan waif will get what he, Roland Darling, deserves just because he chose the easy sister.
"Although, I guess I'll give the little guy some respect. He did have enough brains to take what he wanted," Roland drawls, driving through a red light.
Not that it made much difference to his intelligence. Such a little fool.
Roland smirks and gently pats the concealed potion as he pulls into the airport's parking lot. How foolish to pay for a love potion when you could always get it much, much, cheaper.
"What do you mean something is missing?" Aura questions. "It all looks like a big jumbled mess to me."
"I had sixty-three vials full of potions and I've only collected the pieces of sixty-two," Ignatius comments, looking closer at a glass fragment before placing it with the others.
"Meaning?" Aura prods, looking over his shoulder.
"Whoever came in here did not cause this mess to 'attack the witch' but to cover a theft," Ignatius growls.
"Good thing we keep the more powerful ones in our room and the thief didn't think of checking in there," Aura hums. "How strange, really. We have a large collection of items that would sell for millions apiece but a thief breaks into our house just to steal a potion. Not very smart, are they? What potion was stolen?"
Aura blinks before narrowing her eyes as the warlock stiffens. And not the good kind of stiffening either. She smells an imp. Poking the frozen man doesn't get him to confess, so she grabs an ear to force him to turn his head to look at her.
"It better not be a love potion," Aura growls.
"Of course it's not a love potion!" Ignatius defends quickly. "I promised not to and I haven't made one since the day we met. You know that, love."
"Then why are you being so hesitant on answering my question?" Aura asks.
"It's just...well...all the liquid was spilled and all and...uh...I don't...know what potion was stolen," Ignatius admits.
"You don't know?" Aura repeats breathlessly before gasping. "You haven't been testing any dangerous magic, have you?!"
"I...don't think so," Ignatius mumbles.
Marianne's day had gone from bad to worse to just plain terrible. She should have taken the small hole she found in her favorite sweater as an omen and refused to leave the nice warm hotel room...okay, maybe not exactly that since she needed to save her money until she got another job and couldn't risk being charged for another day.
Growling in frustration, she slows her speed as a car cuts in front of her. Last thing she needs is to get into an accident because she's being careless. No doubt her so-called family would enjoy lecturing her for it.
What right did they have to push themselves back into her life after what they did?! For two years they ignored her, cut off her share of money from the business she helped create, made it nearly impossible for her to get any job that paid more than minimum wage after her father fired her, and then sent back the unopened wedding invitation she sent to them two months ago. Then they had the gall to accuse her of being the one who's ignoring them!
Ridiculous!
Marianne turns her attention momentarily to the gaily-decorated envelope sitting on her dashboard before focusing back on the road, sniffling slightly as she harshly wipes away an insubordinate tear. Remembering that today would have been the first day of her and Roland's married life as she was packing her beat-up car with her meager belongings had only been the start of a series of bad events. Going to the post office to have her mail placed on hold until she found a new home became another heartache when she discovered Dawn and Sunny's own wedding invitation in her mail.
Despite being upset with them, it is nice to know that Dawn finally realized that Sunny loved her and that she loved him. But! That doesn't excuse Dawn for saying their strained relationship as a family is all her doing, as if she's the one who's been refusing contact with them. She has tried all she could for the past two years to reestablish bonds with them short of ambushing them in person, a hard task considering Dad transferred her to this city some three thousand miles away on the pretense of starting a new branch of the company before firing her and cutting off her bank account.
Another sniffle breaks free and Marianne wipes that insubordinate tear away as well, wincing as her engagement ring scratches her. She should probably take it off but she didn't have the heart to yet. Roland has been her rock for the past two years, sticking with her throughout it all as they struggled to make ends meet after her father fired him as well for dating her. They made that unfamiliar city a home, a place to forget the heartache her family put them both through. They were happy and so in love...or so she thought.
She should have suspected something when Roland said he could only get a truck driving job but she had been too caught up on her own employment issues to notice the oddity. Roland had too many job skills to keep him from being able to get a higher-paying job without traveling for days at a time. Sadly, the thought hadn't occurred to her until she was cleaning their small apartment and accidentally found a box full of cash, far more than what could have come from their combined paychecks over an entire year. Going to his job's main office to ask when they expected him back had only resulted in her finding out that Roland didn't work there and had never worked for them at all.
Thinking about the past two years as she waited for him to come home had nearly driven her insane as more things became obviously wrong about their relationship. Things that seemed minor at the time or were easily explained away were now more recognizable as the lies they actually were. Even her own engagement ring was a lie. A cheap fake thing that Roland had used her waitressing tips to get with the promise that he would get her a real one when they had more money.
She had already packed what little she had in her car by the time he finally came home two days later, stupidly hoping that the visible threat would force him to come clean about everything in an attempt to not lose her. Foolishly, she held onto the hope that she was possibly wrong about his deceptive behavior and that he was merely trying to surprise her. But confronting him about the box and the fake job had only given her more heartbreak when he deflected the situation to yell at her for invading his privacy and not trusting him.
"I shouldn't have left the cash behind," Marianne mutters, quickly look at the map before turning onto the next road.
Calling off the wedding had only been a temporary victory and not a very successful one since Roland had the audacity to show up this morning while she was saying goodbye to those in the diner. He didn't bother offering an apology for lying to her or even give a tiny explanation. No, after telling her that he's giving her another chance to apologize to him and come back, the lunatic pulled out a small bottle and threw a foul-smelling pale pink liquid into her face.
Marianne's nose scrunches up slightly at the reminder of the smell and she takes a quick look down to her covered chest. The odor had faded shortly after it happened but the liquid had dyed the llama fleece a horrendous pink wherever it splattered, ruining her favorite supposed-to-be-brown-and-white sweater. It had also stained her skin underneath the sweater and a glance in the rearview mirror confirms that the pink stain across her face is still there.
Strange, though. She could have sworn the pink was paler and less noticeable before.
Shrugging it off as a consequence of being unable to take a bath, Marianne muses that at least she got the satisfaction of giving Roland a possible black eye once her shock wore off. Rosalita speculated that he might have also broken his leg when he fell since his pants got caught on the door frame and he landed awkwardly. Not that she bothered to wait around for the ambulance to find out. She had enough witnesses that she acted in self-defense and she wasn't going to wait for the lying creep to regain consciousness. She had things to do and a new life to start.
A sharp pain searing through her head like a hot iron causes her to moan and she slows her speed as she raises one hand to her forehead.
"A migraine?" Marianne questions, wincing as the afternoon sun reflects painfully off the blacktop.