"Miranda. All women are queens."

@necrodanger​ cheered:  “All knowledge is ultimately based on that which we cannot prove.” - bc they definitely have very deep conversations that never get witnessed by other people (except sometimes Senon) 𝑅𝒶𝓌 𝒶𝓈 𝐻𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝒮𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 - Accepting

      “I dunno, that seems like a major discredit to your senses, Faithy.” Gently, one of Polly’s spectral hands brushed through Faith’s hair, unable to help her smile. Or how longingly she looked at Faith, grey eyes soft and warm where her body was not. “I mean, if you feel something, then even the illusion of sensation is something, a drop of knowledge. That you touched it, and you had a reaction. Hey, maybe the whole world’s a simulation or we’re all just stuck in some dating game or something - but even the fact that what you know is true to you is proof enough of some kind of existence, some kind of interaction!”

🙠 ⊰ @necrodanger

                                  ( RANDOM QUESTIONS ) 

oh no,,,,, talking about my boy ,,,,, whatever will i ,,,, do :^) 

                                             ———— ( headcanons) ———— 

What do you like to drink on a hot day?

❛ i usually have a drink like water- or maybe a smoothie mixed with blood. i’m rather limited on what i can and can’t drink, due to being a vampire. ❜

What do you like to drink on a cold day?

❛ anything i can mix with my all liquid diet, of course. which is not a lot ❜

      Out from behind Faith Miranda darted like a spooked school of minnows, free to step out from her shadow now that she was in the relative safety of a classroom. An enclosed area, where minimal others could see or hear them. Not perfect, but better, temporary shelter from the swirling storm, like that which Miranda had already found guarded behind Faith. It would do.

       And if Miranda had already borne witness to Faith’s crimes, then surely Faith could be allowed some of Miranda’s own. Old bones refused to stay buried, and if the creeping oil slick of atrocity Miri could already tell was protecting that envelope was any clue, some of Miranda’s own were about to leave hints of their presence.

      “Well... Perhaps not alright.” One of her fins twitched, eyes glancing over the letter, at the icy blue seal holding it shut. She could already see the spiral of plates, the points of spines, all incorporated into the design in such a callously simple style. The protective wards on it mixed with the dread Miranda already felt at that one crest and churned into a thick, ugly mire of paranoia brewing below Miranda’s gut. From there, it could only creep into Miranda’s tone in a soft, quiet terror. “I’m expected back for a time. Daddy demands all of his princesses return, since this time of year is always important. M'nghn a' Esl'aaka - it’s our holiest of days, and...”

                                    A pause. Another twitch of Miranda’s fins.

@necrodanger​ / @ruiincd​ / @rebeljest​ || ℑ 𝔪𝔞𝔶 𝔟𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔭𝔦𝔡

      “No no noooo - ” was the particular pink fish’s sing-song reply, punctuated with her swinging her half-empty glass around to watch the amber liquid swirl. “Forgibv-ness isn’t what I do - a’yways he’s h-andsome enough to forget, yeah? N’rmal they try to be sweet, but I won’t complain!” Lightly Miranda hummed, smiling sweet and innocent, while badly slurring in a dingy bar where she was busy drinking her sorrows away. Any acknowledgment of her actual behavior or who she really was would just ruin the fun. Miranda came here to forget all that, and if she was made sad again, then this would all be for nothing.

      And yet, the pretty witch who knew how to hold her liquor seemed to already know Miranda’s name and title. Well, not great - but at least the common folk did enjoy laying with royalty, while they still could. Even if said royalty was smashed and chasing happiness she could never find, in any way she possibly could. Even when it was more destructive than anything else.

      A trill of complaint at the back of her throat, and a droop of Miranda’s fins. With her free hand, she gestured loosely to the very beautiful witch, hopefully trying to get it across that she didn’t want to think much about being noble tonight. 

      “Mm-hm, that’s my name - n’t that we need it tonight. Just d-n’t think about the ‘ princess ’ thing - un'ss you want to? If it make-s you happy!” On cue, Miranda slid up, onto a stool next to Faith, to quickly swig down the rest of her drink. The next was ordered, without question, while Miranda focused a bit more on the beauty beside her.

      The slip came for Faith in the middle of an otherwise perfect day. A day that, when one of the office assistants came by the classroom to pass the little slip of paper into the teacher’s hands and she called for Faith to take it and go to the office, that she was being called there for some business or another, the windows had even been opened to allow the pleasant weather in. There had been no great blaring of trumpets, not even a carriage or chariot going by, virtually no serfs other than those already serving the will of Miranda ( who had been mysteriously absent all day ) - and thus, leaving no warning when Faith arrived at the main office and was gestured into one of the side rooms, with only a mention of the secretary that someone had wanted to meet with Faith.

      Even when the door was opened, the windows were ajar within the area, allowing sunlight in and coming off as perfectly ordinary. The desk was angled out of sight of the door by the design of the office, so it wasn’t until Faith was in the room and the door was shut behind her by a large cetacean guard that she might have gotten a look at who exactly had called her in.

      “Greetings - please take a seat.” The voice came musical and chirped from a merfolk seated behind the desk, temporarily borrowed. The sunlight caught on her scales, making them shimmer oddly, a bit like a lobster’s shell. Mottled blue and brownish-red could be found amongst a sea of green, ranging from lighter apple green to something darker, like algae pulled from the sea - contrasting with a creamy yellow around her fins and hands, the same pale color that Miranda had. Bangs of thick, dark green hair dipped down, over her eyes, but it took no guesses to understand that this mer was older than Miranda, a good deal so, perhaps even in the range of ten years or more. How she saw, it was not easy to tell, but as eyes crested upwards, it was impossible to not notice the crown upon her head, shining in wicked gold with pearls that seemed to stare back at Faith.

      Her hands folded on the table, her tail ( the same, almost-crocodilian tail that Miranda had, though much better muscled, as this mer certainly did not neglect her body in the same way Miri did ) curling lightly around her legs, the tip resting on top of her feet, a smile under the shadow of her bangs, a birthmark around her lips seeming almost intentional - all of her body posture spoke of relaxation, of friendliness, but the faintest hum of magic spoke differently. A far, far more corrosive magic, like the buzzing of a wasp’s nest, hidden so deep it faded in and out of even Faith’s awareness.

      “I hear you have been making friends with our Crown Princess. She’s my little sister - Miranda Vanderbilt? I doubt she speaks much of me, we hardly ever talk anymore, far too busy for that. My name is Amanda Vanderbilt, Third-Named of the Merkingdom Crown, High Priestess. Apologies for the intrusion, our Father wanted me to complete an order of business for Miranda’s safety, and I couldn’t squeeze in a meeting with you anywhere else. I do hope it’s not too inconvenient.” Amanda’s voice had a soft, melodic quality to it. A motherly tone, warm, comforting, that turned her sentences into the sweetest praise. Something so odd, compared to all of the times Miranda took on her own regal tone.

      Her hand slowly turned to the side, picking up a tablet of some degree, though the resemblance to human technology was more akin to comparing a bird’s wing to a dragonfly’s - turning it on and pulling up the items of interest that needed to be addressed with a flick of her well-groomed claws.

She's prepping her shovel. "We have a twat to execute, Polly." - necrodanger bc FUCK AMANDA