I’m gonna kill Jon, Athena decided. His mom… Well, Linda’s partially responsible for all this, but she’s also delightful. I’ll only yell at her.
The morning plan was simple. Go with Jon to meet Linda (Athena was excited for this. Linda was a MILF before the disaster. What could she possibly look like after?), workshop ideas to fix Lake Point, then never speak of this again. Easy.
Athena got sidetracked.
“Oh Lady Primrose!” announced a yellow fairy to her right, in a loud, fake, bad English accent. “Be a dear and pass the tea, will you?”
“Why, of course Lady Marigold!” said the pink fairy to Athena’s left, with the same accent. “If it’s not a bother, would you pass another bon-bon?”
Notably, both had identical exaggerated hourglass curves to Athena. Frustratingly, she was the shortest of the three. Infuriatingly, the two candy-colored idiots truly believed Athena was a fairy like them, despite her myriad insults and attempts at explaining otherwise.
This was before she found herself pulled into their Game. Now, bound to its rules, the best she could hope for was to keep her mouth shut.
The three were settled at a tiny luxurious dining table, placed atop a normal-sized table in some unused guest room. Primrose—she had cicada wings to contrast Athena’s butterfly set, and a pink gown that puffed out as obnoxiously as her own—had shrunken and stolen the former from some disgruntled nobility. Marigold—hornet wings and a dress from torn tablecloth—had “thanked” the nobility “by turning them all into terriers, because terriers are cuter than humans.”
Terrifying. The fairies are terrifying.
“Lady Plumdrop!” said Primrose. “More tea?”
Athena gasped and wiggled, as a sense of uncontrolled excitement bubbled deep within herself. How fun it would be to join along, it clamored. To play with her sisters… Athena wanted to jerk up and run. But her too-wide butt stayed firmly in its tiny pillowed seat, her shapely legs squirming with discomfort as the excitement threatened to burst out.
“Yes!” Athena mournfully squeaked, with that same fake, bad, mortifying accent. “Another spot of tea would be lovely!”
She felt the excitement dissipate as Primrose poured from the empty kettle into her empty teacup.
“You really shouldn’t limit yourself, dear,” said Primrose. “After all, it’s been ages since we’ve last had Sunday brunch together!”
“Hours, even!” said Marigold.
“Maybe even days!” said Primrose.
I’m gonna kill Jon, thought Athena.
