Apr. 30th, 2012

dt_maxwell: ([TV] Goddess)
(Should be doing something productive with my time, like working on the three papers I have due this week, but instead I am brainstorming for Mistwrought and reading fanfic. Le sigh, self.

But anyway. Scribble ahead.

Lykke and Corbin are two of my new favorites, by the way. I REGRET NOTHING.)

Corbin has seen far too many eldritch abominations pass through Mistwrought's fog-shrouded streets (and what the Matron Protectorate did to the eldritch abominations that thought her town's citizens made decent snacks) to be phased by anything that happened at the Inn any longer. Still, walking in on his way to report to the Matron, the Raven couldn't help but notice the remains of one hell of a party in the front parlor.

He detoured to Lykke's office.

"Why is there an entire pantheon of gods passed out in the main parlor?"

Lykke glanced up from preparing her morning dose of spiced coffee. "Oh, that," she said, lifting her mug and taking a careful sip. Frowning at the taste, she set it down and added another spoonful of sugar and a few dashes of nutmeg. "First-time visitors to the Imp's Head. Got a bit too big for their britches, as it were. Mama dared them to a drinking contest, started tapping the kegs of Jabberwocky, then finally brought out the Wormwood. "Test the integrity of their livers," she said."

Corbin blinked once, then again. "Your mother fights dirty," he said. He'd have to ask Quinzel later about what precisely these gods had done to earn the ire of Lailya Lunamortis. Springing Jabberwocky Wormwood on the uninitiated without any advance warning was just...mean.

Lykke smirked and sipped her coffee. "Well, if it's a fair fight, you're doing it wrong."

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