AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, guys! Sorry it took me a little while to get to a computer, because SOMEBODY (My brother) had to be using his computer. Actually, the 23rd of January is his birthday, so a shout out- HAPPY 18th, DUDE!
Chapter Seventeen
Fionna's P.O.V.
It was a normal couple of days from there on out. Fairly normal, anyway.
Ice King had heard that I was 'Princess of the Why-wolves', and decided to try to capture me. Let's just say, he'll be out of commision for a little while. How am I even a princess?
Marshall's P.O.V.
Fi, Why-wolves are gonna adopt whoever beats them up as their prince or princess. Seriously, they will give you respect to the max. Okay?
Fionna's P.O.V.
Oh. Okay… but I don't know how Ice King even found out about them. Do they even have Why-wolves in Ooo? Or, What-wolves? How-wolves? Who-wolves? Where-wolves… nah, that's just stupid. Listen to how it sounds- Where-wolves. Seriously, that's just delusional.
But, anyway, I beat up Ice King and Queen; stopped Gumball from being kidnapped a few times, me and Cake kicked some evil butt with Finn and Jake, the works.
Cake found out something, though- there is no such thing as a Monochromicorn. Apparently, Lord Monochromicorn is actually a storm spirit. Yep, that was my reaction, too.
See, his real name is 'Lord Zephyr Vortex', and he was –Can you… can you even call it born? - In the higher peakes of the Serpoid Mountian Ranges. See, if enough lightning strikes pass through a certain place in the air, a sentient mind grows there. It's not aware of itself, as such, but the first cloud to pass through it becomes it's 'host body'. He can shape-shift through more forms than Marceline and Marshall put together, and he decided on something akin to a Rainicorn, as to not freak out the people around him, because he didn't want to be feared and just a destructive force. Honestly, I think him meeting Cake had something to do with that.
But, anyway, Marshall Lee and I were walking- or, in his case, floating- down the same hallway where Marceline's… loot room? The door clicked as we went past, and we peeked in the window to see Marcy trying the locked handle. She spotted us and gestured to the knob.
Marshall cocked his head, like, are you sure?
She, in hand movements, said she'd kill him… no, wait… rip out his jugular… and strangle him with it? Isn't that normally what you strangle on?
Marshall shrugged and held up his hands, palm up in a peace gesture, and reached for the knob.