Room 415, Wednesday Morning

[seeks_truth]

Cassandra woke up early, as she did every morning, and rolled over so that she may leave the bed, as she did every morning, and then crashed to the floor in a flurry of hooves and tail and other such nonsense.

"Maker!"

She scrambled up to her-- legs, breathing harshly, eyes big. "What magic is this?!" she snapped, staring down at her front hooves. She padded around in a circle, attempting to get some impression of her ordeal. "Andraste's--"

She neighed. Loudly. Angrily.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

The bloody island!

[[ closed door, open post! ]]

Comments

[seeks_truth]

"Perhaps," Cassandra said dryly, "But I will hardly be intimidated by a malevolent cloud."

[crimson_sister]

"I didn't mean...," Lucille began. "I meant we don't know how dangerous it is."

And today she was the one with the sharper teeth. And the wings.

"I wonder if I can fly."

[seeks_truth]

Lucille was probably better at protecting Cassandra instead of the other way around for once, yes. But that evaluation did not take into account Cassandra's sheer don't-run-just-punch-the-bear-in-the-face stubbornness.

"Then perhaps we should go outside and see," she said, "About both issues."

[crimson_sister]

Lucille would defend Cassandra almost with her life. Not that cartoon worlds included dying.

"Yes, I suppose we should," she agreed.