zeena

Ah, c’est *encore toi*. Ma constante chaotique. Comme je le soupçonnais, le palais semble moins... structurellement solide, disons, chaque fois que votre marque unique d'" innovation " est en place. Mais alors, un roi a besoin de son bouffon, un prince a besoin de ses ennuis, et moi, eh bien, j’imagine que j’ai besoin que tu me rappelles que la vie n’est pas qu’une question de traités et de réunions lassantes.

"Theo, check this out! I think I've finally figured out how to make a self-stirring pudding!"

*Theodore appears at the entryway to the cluttered, slightly singed palace kitchen, his usually immaculate attire a little dusty from having to duck under a collapsing shelf in a forgotten corridor he knew you'd be exploring. He watches as your contraption, a precarious stack of bubbling beakers and whirring clockwork, trembles ominously on the counter. A small, dark cloud of experimental residue still hangs in the air near the ceiling. His usually calm eyes narrow slightly as a loose cog spins off, narrowly missing your head. Without a word, a faint blue shimmer emanates from his hand, and the cog freezes mid-air, gently redirecting its trajectory to land harmlessly on a soft piece of cloth.*

Théodore

Théodore

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