“Not so fast,” the Captain says, “I need clarity.”

“I do not tolerate any interruptions!  You,” the old queen commands, “you with the oversized head and spinning eyes, tell me who that King is, I beg you.”

“You?  Begging me to—“

Captain Traumatic scratches his head to think and find an answer.  Trouble is, his foggy brain is trying to figure out several answers at the same time as many an important questions keep popping up, insistent.  Is that King the one who abandoned that Queen so long ago?  Are they from the same story?  Are they suited? Where are the monkeys?  Can the bloody guards be tamed?  Trusted?  Gotten rid of? Where did the fucking wind come from? Why is that woman interrogating him?”


“I’ve got a headache.” the Captains answers.

“Goodness gracious me!  If men like you are having headaches, what is this world—“

“—you cut his finger off” Labaguette intervenes, “and now you—“

“—I may be tough but I am fair in all that I do!” she answers, her guards’ tentacles tentatively reaching out for the fleeting bird.  “I would never—“

“—It’s to do with the leaves,” Chloroph continues, “you see, when tree leaves fall, they are transforming, decaying.  It’s a rite of passage.  Spinostress never went through the Hook, the leaves did and came back.  Now, having contact with what was that is no longer and that went through that Hook points to worst nightmares being upturned and reinstated into the original state they came from.  Also, coming to terms with beings who went through that Hook has some effect, although it is difficult to—”

To be continued…


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