This ficlet was written after looking at this sketch by silvertales, with their permission. He looked like someone out of a sub-line of a bloodline of Addergoole (Although the horns had to have come from his mother’s side of the family…), so I asked @Kissofjudas to name him, since ri’s named most of Astarot’s line.
This was actually an experiment in how much I could write the mood without revealing the plot.
Mormo was unimpressed.
To be fair, everyone in the room was unimpressed.
“I said no, damnit.” Mormo glared across the room. One hoof scuffed the floor, and the tracework of lights that was part of his Change lit up his forehead and cheeks. “This is my last year of school. There’s no way.”
“It has to be done.” Now it had turned into a three-way argument. Tempers were only going to get hotter. I stayed in a corner, watched the three of them, and said nothing at all. This might be about me, but it didn’t involve me.
The glow from Mormo’s forehead was threatening to blind the rest of the room. “There is no way. No way that you are going to talk me into that. And especially not with her.“
“Nobody is asking your opinion on the matter. We’re telling you how things are going down.”
I wanted to say something. I really did. Her? Like I was some sort of non-entity?
But they had pushed Mormo too far, and that was about when everything exploded.
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