>>5900907>>5900925>>5900934>>5900996>>5901040>>5901143>>5901239>>5901269>>5901298>Play up your cuteness.You play up your cuteness, hemming and hawing and puffing out your ruff for the counsel–which seems to soften the gaze of a few of them, namely, the gnome Angrboda and the EYE.
“HOW CUTE. IT THINKS IT’S PEOPLE.” THE EYE muses.
“Oh, my.” Angrboda smiles. “It is very cute, no..?”
“Are you insane? It was just racist to you.” Morgan scowls.
“We can hardly judge the moral standards of chickens by the same standards as wizards, Morgan.” Erasmus waves a hand. “It’s a wonder it wasn’t more racist, really. I’ve spoken to chickens before.”
“Bah! This trial is a farce!” Balthazar gnarls. “The invocation of ghost magic by a hobbit, a tirade by a chicken emotional support jester.. and to compare mere ghost magic to necromancy magic..!”
“Well..” Angrboda sighs, a hand on her cheek. “I must say.. it is very cute. I think.. this was all just a mistake on the part of the hobbit. I mean, the situation is a mess, sure, but.. to think she couldn't even hire a proper emotional support jester, and made do with a racist–if cute–chicken! I don’t think we can very well judge the girl as right in the head, no..?”
“Angrboda..” Anurak begins.
“I suppose.. given the circumstances, and so long as proper disciplinary measures are taken to ensure she won’t do it again..” Angrboda sighs. “I vote not to disinherit Sigrid de Hautdesert from Saint August’s Conservatory.”
The board erupts in arguments–Morgan spitting venom, Balthazar slamming his fist, Sigismund guffawing, and the eye dancing. Your master’s eyes, meanwhile, light up as she picks you up in her arms and twirls you around in the air. “Aha..! Snuff! Snuff, you really did it..!” Her face is alight with joy, a genuine uncontrollable grin on her face–one of the first you’ve ever seen. “Snuff, I’m not expelled..! You..”
“A-ah..” Sigrid’s eyes fall in realization. “No, that’s right. This isn’t real.”
Your master’s smile turns sad as the ground and floor begin to warp and melt, the fine garlands and gold banners pooling up into each other like paint swirling in a can. The iudices join, distorting into a whirling miasma of colors and form, light and sound. Your master sighs and shuts her eyes.
You feel the familiar tugging sensation as you begin crossing into another passing memory.
