Not that she knew his name; she had beggared just about every question under the sun (and the moon, too), but it’d never once occurred to her to ask just who this tired young man was. He’d said, “Let’s go—” and she trotted right after him; her entire life in the Wood had been full of auspices, and he was the first good portent she’d come across in a year. He was patient, good-natured, and always answered her thoughtfully – for Ultima, who had felt overwhelmingly terrified and small ever since she’d crashed into the Flats, he was a sorely welcome kindness.
“—called chort fungus, though, couldn’t it be something a little more dignified? It sounds too much like ‘chortle’ and I just really think it’s rather uncou— Oh!”
Her voice had vastly improved with use, regaining some of its inherent cheekiness – flowers bloomed if you cared for them, after all. But the sight of the great glass wall rising before them stole her words for a moment, and she came to a stop just off of Tilney’s hip, eyes wide.
“That’s grand,” she murmured, delighted. “That’s phenomenal magic, it must’ve taken a great deal of— Oh!” She said again, followed very shortly by a soft, “Oh no.”
For people had begun to answer the boy’s weary bugle, and with the return of her sociability, so too had her sense of personal hygiene. That is, her awareness of the utter lack thereof. ‘I look like a hag.’ Tilney at least had the excuse of being battered by the ocean for weeks on end. Having no such justification and few options, Ultima tried to tuck herself inconspicuously behind him, peering over his back warily.
‘Horrible,’ she thought. ‘Absolutely wretched.’
And began to pray.
@Tilney & Co!!
hi take this dweeb
please tag ultima in all posts! force/magic a-ok, shy of killing/maiming her! |