#abwbn

Rian & Augusta

Rian twisted hir tongue, rolling it between hir teeth before latching down on it. The pink tip stuck out from between hir lips. There was a paintbrush in hir florescent hair, an eye watering canary yellow today, and hir wand ze fiddled and twiddled between one set of digits. The only ones fluttered through the air in their stained glory, plucking and poking at the threads of colours, the bursts of sounds that lit hir vision up like firecrackers.

Everything had a snow feel to it, the sort of snowy feel one got from scratchy cotton or sharp taste of peppermint lingering in the back of their throat. Which, honestly, could be explained by the candies ze suckled and munched on. BUT that was besides the point! Ze didn’t know how else to describe today, it was a snow-without-snow sort of day, very unusual for the time of the year, being only the start of the year and all,  but still slightly disappointing. Whatever.

The fire crackled and ze jolted, a bucket of ever-changing ink and rosewater tipping over the cobble stones. Ze shrieked and descended on the mess like a fanatic bird. “Oh no, oh no no, oh no this is very bad, oh Merlin!” Purples and blues, those were nice, greens and yellows yes yes, all very good but oh god hadn’t there been a set of books over in that corner? Was there invisible ink - yes, yes there was, ze recalled now. Bugger. “Marvelous, I’m dead. Whose books where those?”