[ morrigan . mercy . lucille ]
Morrigan was in a proper fit.
She stood precariously in front of the door of Tara and Natasha's room, as if one more step in any direction would certainly burn her foot off. The scene before her was one of upheavel, localized entirely to Natasha's side of the room. Clothes were strewn everywhere, pictures ripped from the walls, the mattress of her bed all askew.
The dutchess wrinkled her petite nose in offense to the sight.
"Oh, it's just filthy!" She declared, her Irish intonation giving her voice a deceptively sweet lilt. "If I see one louse I'm just going to scream!" Nevermind that she was one of the only girls that would voluntarily pick up a spider and enjoy the experience.
"Shhhh, my daring Dutchess," Mercy whispered, a lithe arm snaking around her shoulders. "If you make too much noise you'll alert them!" A tentative step in a loused out direction, Mercy crouched close to the ground next to the bed, looking under it.
"Oh, look. The wicked girl is hiding her mess."
"Oh, be careful, your majesty," Lucille's attention, til now so focused on shaking out the nasty beggar's nasty garments, shifted to the darkness concealed beneath her mattress. There was practically a little bounce to her step, more than happy to do the dirty work -- it's not as if its property mattered, and destruction was a very excellent way to expell surplus energy.
"Shall I clean it out?" The blonde asked in her most servile tone, as if she could be in for a real treat.
"Oh yes, Lucille, just push that mattress right off, and the bed will come up. We'll have to have the sheets burnt, anyway. I wouldn't want Tara to get infected with a single louse from Natasha's dirty habits!" And Morrigan took a few steps closer, so that she could tilt her head down enough to see the underside of the bed.
"I bet she hides all of the things she steals from us down there, what do you think?" She hissed, incredulous!
"I feel ill just thinking of all the dirty things we'll find," the Princess of the Blood Rose sighed, her hand running along her temple. "But it is the job of the court to right these wrongs, to bring such a filthy girl to all consuming justice. Toss the sheets in the bag that we're taking out to the woods-- the one with the louse laden clothing in it-- and then we'll see what kind of dirty thieft our sour-milk Natasha really is!"
Lucille did as she was instructed, stripping away the bedding to deposit it in the sack. She shook her hands, as if to rid herself of any invisible parasites that may have come from where Natasha slept, sliding the mattress clean from its frame.
"Dear me, it's awful.." One by one, she plucked various items from their resting place, tossing a few objects hastily over her shoulder.
"Mmm, it's all trash, look at--" Morrigan paused and stepped closer, crouching down so that she could get to the stash as well. "Wait a minute, there are books, there! Where did she get these?" She grabbed at them, forgetting her supposed offense to touching the beggar girl's things. Seeing a title that interested her, she gasped, "Why! This book here is mine! I've been searching for it for ages! I can't believe that beggar girl stole it from me!"
And she sat back, to flip through the pages, letting Lucille and Mercy explore the lot.
"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," Mercy mumbled, reaching in to take a sheaf of hand written stories, crayon coloured fairytales and fables of woe. "I'm surprised all this garbage isn't covered in that beggar cow's sour milk." A sigh. "But we are agitating them-- the parasites and the lice and the fleas and the bugs that spring from that beggar girl's unlucky odour." Pale features crinkled into a disgusted look. "We should hurry to the seashore to begin the burning. Kill them while they're stunned, yes?"
"Quite right, my Lady." Lucille rifled through the hoard just a bit more, taking for herself a few books Morrigan had not chosen. They were set aside to be retrieved later, along with a handful of other trinkets, and she leapt to her feet, snatching the bag heavy with the girl's doomed possessions.
"Oh, I do so enjoy the burning," Morrigan's nose was still in the book, to see if she did indeed like it, even as she got to her feet. "Hopefully she won't steal our clothes, when she finds she has none."
"The headmaster will surely give her hand-me-downs," Mercy replied tersely as she opened the door, mary janes clicking to a halt. "But it's not our concern to worry about that-- our concern herein lies in the burning of her things to protect ourselves and others-- and almost especially Natasha herself."
They were, after all, doing this for the dirty girl's own good.
Lucille, automatically taking it upon herself to carry the pregnant cargo, stopped when she came out into the corridor -- she was waiting, of course, for the Princess and Dutchess to lead. It was only fitting.
Putting her book under her arm, Morrigan stepped through the door, closing it behind her. "A job well done!" She sighed, and started down the hall towards the stairs. It was only a few flights to the ground, and then an adventurous walk to the seashore. She knew every step, and every creature that buzzed, hissed, or bit on the way.
Mercy was all happiness and smiles, skipping until they passed the dark, picket gate that separated the grass from the dunes. "This will surely be quick work!" The sheaf of personal stories was held tight in her hand, for fear that the light breeze might snatch it away and call it its own. "Fire loves the lice."
Lucille took a deep, well-deserved breath as she emptied her hands onto the sand. The flush in her face quickly drained, giving way to an expression of anticipation, and long fingers fished in her sash for a tiny matchbook.
"My Ladies.." A small step back, and Lucille gave them each a polite curtsey before plucking out a match. She struck it on the book. "In honor of the Royal Court."
It descended from her grasp, and flames burst forth from the heap.
"That is the most flammable trash I've ever seen!" Morrigan laughed. "Did you soak the bag in spirits before you brought it to be filled, Princess?" As alcohol from the sick bay was about the only flammable chemical thing they could get their hands on.
"Do you know what burns particularly well?" the Princess of the Blood Rose asked as she stepped toward the flame, dropping the beggar's handwritten papers into the mess.
"Indeed." Lucille's response was a quiet one, more or less purely to prove she was listening attentively, enraptured as she was by the flames. Red and orange danced in the hazy blue of her eyes.
"Noble work was done today. I'm very honored I was allowed to participate."
"Oh, Lucy, you're just the sweetest!" Morrigan laughed, and danced in the sand, around the flames. "Witches, witches! Burn the witches!" Ahaha!
Mercy herself giggled at Morrigan's antics before she turned to Lucille, placing her palm sweetly against the girl's face, holding her cheek so lovingly. "Lucy, your hard work will be well rewarded, someday. But for now, you have our gratitude and long lasting favour." The redhead leaned forward, to kiss the commoner left of center at the corner of her mouth. "Thank you."
Lucille's hands rose to her chest, tightly clasped, allowing the faintest hint of emotion to ripple across her features.
"I'm deeply touched by your graciousness, your majesty .. I am always and forever at your service."
"Oh, isn't she just so honorable? Just like a knight! My, my, if she keeps it up, you may have to create a round table, Mercy!" Morrigan fell into the sand, snickering.
"Oh, she really is!" Mercy started with a giggle and hopped over to Morrigan, toppling onto her and tickling her relentlessly.
"Oh NO! Oh MY!" Morrigan shrieked with laughter, "MERCY! Mercy, PLEASE!" She attempted to return the attack, but her strength was lost to the tickling sensation.
"Oh, my darling dutchess." The other girl's chin was cupped in the Princess' hand before she fled any surprise retaliation, heading back toward the picket gate. "Come on! We need to be in bed before the headmaster notices we're missing!"
Dusting off her dress after getting to her feet, Morrigan ran after the Princess, not one to be left behind.
Lucille followed hastily in stride, sand flying up behind her feet, leaving the smouldering pile to die and wash away.