#cheeriodahling

It was not exactly picturesque, but then Grimhilde’s idea of picturesque was somewhat different and shifted between rolling landscapes and forests full of prey to a family homestead that was not even her own but was always full of the smell of orange blossoms and wild rosemary. Her personal preferences were for the apothecary in Vienna - a small and beautiful historic building stuffed to the brim with bottles and manuscripts - each one perfectly labelled. None of her myriad concepts of the idea were matched with old - cantankerous ramshackle of a place sprawling across a dark landscape and brooding like an ill-mannered cur. 

Still. She had received invitation to attend a meeting with women she had only a passing acquaintance with but had heard a great deal about in her personal research and it would have been unwise to refuse to meet with such powerful ladies. At the very least they might have news on the Twittering Idiot. Grimhilde swept her cloak around herself and stalked towards the front door, knocking loudly and curling her lip at the disrepair at the same time. 

Cruella De Vil and Morrigan of Wonderland. Icons of their worlds. Strange mysterious women of whom very little was known in Wildungen - and they had requested her presence. Why. 

cheeriodahling