There was a girl named Malina Serafina Anastazja Dominika Naveed Jeleń nic Cecília O Alexandre, and because she had been named this, or at least that was what she’d been told, she sat down on a throne.
The throne was in a tower which had been left as if its inhabitants planned on coming back any moment.
But they hadn’t, and Malina, led by a talking sand-cat & carried by a mustang, had.
She sat down gingerly on the throne, worried it might crumble to dust, even though it had held the cat fine.
The throne held her weight; the cushion was so soft and comfortable that she could see why the cat had wanted to stay there. It was too large for her, as if it had been meant to hold a very large person, but if she scooted forward, she could see how the arm rests had been carved to fit hands, so they’d rest comfortably and royally while the person there did whatever they did in this room. Continue reading