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Lord Maric. BUNNY.

My Nathaniel. Is he not splendid?

My Nathaniel. Is he not splendid? Royce is on his shoulder as he often is these days.

It seems odd that we have nowhere else to go but a tavern. Back to the beginning, it feels like. If I weren’t so terrified of King Gwythyr, I would say I almost missed the blissful few weeks we had in the Unseelie sithen, where nobody questioned what we did or who we did it with, where we slept or with whom. But that’s not how things turned out, and we have a tavern, stolen hours in a little hut with a fucking bunk bed, time at Val’s when it seems safe, though I wish she were there more often, because I want to kiss her again.

But there we were, in the tavern, when in walked the fabled Lord Maric. Until then, I’d only heard his name from Valene and from the villagers we helped.

He was not overly tall, but imposing nonetheless.

He was not overly tall, but imposing nonetheless.

He came in from the mists, dressed mostly in black. He cut a fine figure, really, though nobody is quite as beautiful as Nathaniel in my eyes. After a few initial bobbles, such as the fact that I was draped over Nathaniel’s shoulder having my bottom swatted when he came in (not a usual occurrence!), he invited us to share a drink with him. Conversation was pleasant, if a bit formal; he had many questions about the area. Initially, I was open with answering them, because I find it’s easier to find things out about a person if you give them something first. He seemed oddly fascinated with me as a fae. I felt like I imagine a demifae might feel when confronted with a butterfly collector, to be honest.

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He seemed fascinated with me as a fae.

I tried to be diplomatic, and I think I was doing a good job, even if he was a bit — leery at times. I was almost sure he was a vampire, but not like Nathaniel at all — his manner was almost predatory. He seemed eager to work with someone of Nathaniel’s talents, saying he needed an accountant and perhaps someone to forge trade agreements with other factions here in Ashmourne.

His air was almost predatory.

His air was almost predatory.

I think the conversation might have turned a little uncomfortable for me — to be honest, it was already feeling a little bit odd — but then something amazing happened. The most amazing creature came into the tavern. It was a bunny. With a horn. It got so mad at me for calling it a bunny (it could talk! SQUEE!), but I can’t remember its actual name and OMG BUNNY. HORN. BUNNYCORN.

I lost it a little bit. I don’t think Lord Maric was quite prepared for my cries of joy upon seeing such an amazing thing.

I did try to keep it together after my initial outburst. I don’t think it liked me very much, to tell you the truth.

BUNNY.

BUNNY.

But look! It is a BUNNY. With a HORN.

OMG.

Yeah, we might have done some other stuff, but I don’t remember now.

BUNNY.

 

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