Official Duties…

Well, they suck.

And I’m not just saying that because I’m The Amazing Catwoman and therefore a surly rebel. I mean, that might have something to do with it, but really: who books the official Queen’s Guard photo shoots for Valentine’s Day? Like, I’m not even a fan of Valentine’s Day: it sucks. But just having listen to my fellow Guards sulk about how their spouses/significant others/various flavours of fuckbuddies were going to be so so upset with them that they were taking time out of this special day to stand around and wait for their names to be called and get a photo taken completely robbed me of the will to live. Well, it completely robbed me of the will to live after I admitted that I effing hate Valentine’s Day and let a whole bunch of people go ahead of me, so I was sitting there in the Library (Why? Why in the freaking Library?) for hours. By the time it was all over I had a serious vendetta against Cupid. Or Hallmark. Or whoever invented the whole stupid day. OK, obviously the day itself never did anything to me, and wishing away a whole day would probably royally screw the cosmos or some shit like that, but seriously.

To make matters worse, of course it’s Brán who’s taking the photographs, because he is “an avid amateur photographer”, and Her Fae Majesty does not understand photography. Every time books shifted in the library, it knocked the camera off the tripod, and by the time he got around to me, I think he had also lost the will to live, because even as boring, stand-in-the-middle-of-the-banners-and-we’ll-make-you-look-like-a-dork photos go, this one is appalling. Did he just decide it didn’t matter if TAC’s photo was off-balance? Or maybe he plans to just slice bits off of it. I have no idea. He’s like one of those Instagram people who just discovered filters, too: if a photo doesn’t have some kind of an obvious overlay, he’s not having it. I guess I’m lucky he didn’t turn me some kind of rainbow colour.

*Oh, Fine. I’ll just stand here all evening, shall I?*

I think he must have realised he’d set that shot up all wrong, because then he said, ‘You know, as your second in command and all that…’ (Wulfrich had left hours ago, of course — and trust me; it’s better not to ask what he gets up to when he’s on leave…) ‘…we really should have a couple of extra shots of you, just for posterity’s sake’.

I may have — OK, I glared.

‘Just give me a little smile’?

‘Will it make this end soon’?

‘Just one more. You know, you’re really very attractive: it’s just you’re so mouthy‘.

‘This had better be the best freaking photograph you have ever taken, Your Seneschalness. Or I may behead you in your sleep. Come to think of it, I might anyways’.

‘Anyway‘. Brán really infuriates me sometimes. ‘You should spend more time with Her Majesty: It might improve both your grammar and your demeanour’.

OK, that made me laugh. ‘You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, Brán. The shit she and I used to get used to back in … well, back where we grew up. If anything, spending more time around me might loosen her up a little bit’.

And that, of course, is when the snooty twerp shot the only photograph of the bunch that I actually like.

End of story: I GTFOed as fast as I could GTFO once that was all over, and I went straight home to my unicorn (shut up!) and had a nice, hot bath, and I did not interact with any other living creatures, unless you count the birds in my back garden, and I more feed them than interact with them, for the next three glorious days. After that, I’m set to help usher in the spring tourism season but standing around in my admittedly pretty spiffy day uniform and impressing humans with my exotic-ness. I swear to all the gods, if anybody touches my ears without permission, I will void my contract, along with probably the contents of their stomachs if I gut them just right.