A Seat for a Unicorn

Only  in Jasper Cove, could I spend an evening discussing the manufacture of a booster seat for a bright-orange, undead, magic-using, three-foot high unicorn with a 14th century Gaelic peasant woman turned tavern owner and a 90th century gynoid dressed in a leotard, stockings and a purple bow in her hair.  And I thought my life in London had been strange. 

The Ladies’ Luncheon that Aoibheann is planning will take place on Sunday.  She is concerned that Mitternacht might find it difficult to enjoy it in common with others on account of her height, so was discussing, with Neelam, the idea of building a platform for her to stand on. That way, she could be at the same level as the others, presumably seated. I offered to assist in this respect, being not unskilled in carpentry.  After some discussion, we agreed I would turn Aoibheann’s sketch into a working blueprint, then Neelam and I would work together on the construction.  Apparently, Neelam has all the tools, and does most of her work up in the lighthouse.  I need to get onto that, so we can have it finished in time for Sunday.

We were briefly interrupted by the arrival of an unaccompanied princess in the form of Hadley, looking rather wet and almost certainly up to mischief.  A rather harassed looking Wren turned up a few moments later, in hot pursuit.  Aoibheann tried to get them to come in out of the rain and get dry, while I got some hot drinks, but then Hadley was off again, followed by an exasperated Wren.  I could hear them chasing around in the courtyard, but then the cries disappeared off into the distance.  I think I heard Carmen’s voice out there trying to help too.

In the meanwhile, a young female faun turned up, equally wet and playing some panpipes.  Her name, I learned, was Zarla Starsong.  Aoibheann tried to get her to dry herself off, but she seemed to regard the towel as some kind of strange hat, and was even more suspicious of the comb when Aoibheann tried to get her to tidy herself up.  If she had been human, I would have guessed her to be a young teenager, but who knows what age a faun is supposed to be.  She was very jolly and excitable and seemed fond of stories and songs.  We were joined by an oddly-dressed gentleman by the name of Doctor Cirden Bardroy Fang, lately; it appears of a hospital in London, England.  It was a pleasant change to speak with somebody with a similar accent to mine.  He looked dressed for swordplay or possibly throwing his cloak over puddles, but I could not otherwise guess from what era he came, save that he made reference to Her Majesty’s hospital, which somewhat narrows down the possibilities. From the clothing, I might guess Good Queen Bess, but I did not get the chance to find out, as he appeared to be somewhat tired and drifted off to sleep soon after.  Zarla was excited by his appearance, wondering if he was a knight come to slay dragons or rescue princesses.  He played along with her little game, much to her amusement.

The princesses eventually returned from their chasing game, but since it was well past the end of my shift, I left them in Neelam & Aoibheann’s care for the rest of the evening.

 

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