Re: Cass & Mat: the Quiet Home
The golden line of the Fantasias filter is launched by an unconcerned pair of vandals fore and thumb, starbursting into the nearest wall with a shower of short-lived, orange spangles. A natural promise keeper herself (unless unreasonable, or having crossed her impish fingers vertically parallel to her spine during the making of a bound-to-be-broken one) she shrugs those scrawny shoulders of hers. Fine by her. She'll be the sole promise keeper of the city. Sailing on the cloudnine of that half-vicodin, she’s got zero cares. With all the syrupy din of a strangely placid would-be savior, she is so calm she rethinks ever being brimming of rage again!
“How long do you have to do this stupid dog-and-pony show for, till they just throw a bottle of happy pills at you, and shove you out into the wild blue yonder?” she wonders, because nobody should have to put up with this stupid shit for long. She certainly wouldn’t be able to stomach it. She was never good at being confined into an unwanted routine.
“This should be pretty easy,” she says, because wow, was that warlock ever right. Her limbs feel voltaic with vvitchcraft. ”You see the future. I can do other things. Then we can have bottomless mimosas. Lead the way.”