…and then, with a horrible croak, the frog belched the coins out onto the ground.
“Ugh,” he said. “Take those and give them to the pooka who sells his wares in the grove. Highest quality. Better than any human goods.”
They sparkled, damply. Mercedes drifted a step back, covering her mouth. “That’s disgusting,” she squeaked.
“So you tell me. You didn’t have them clanking around in there for the past day.”
“I…didn’t need to know that.” Grimacing, the fairy dropped her wings and crouched over the…puddle of new monetary advantage. “Are these even real?”
“Of course they’re real,” snapped the frog. “They’re Valentinian. The exchange rate is quite good on them, you’ll find. It ought to serve our purposes quite well. Now, take them. I’m tired of looking at them.” As though to emphasize this, the frog squeezed his eyes shut. Mercedes pulled a leaf patterned handkerchief out from her packs and, not looking too hard, quickly scooped them up.
“Well…thank you,” she said, tucking them away, “I think.”
“This venture is a bad idea on your part and I am aiding it. You have nothing to thank me for.”
Mercedes scowled. “You could at least be a little happy when a queen pays you her compliments.”
The frog eyed her archly. “Oh? There were compliments in that?”
Mercedes felt suddenly cross. “Yes,” she said. And just to be spiteful, she added a, “You’ve been a Very. Good. Friend.” She flew off to make her purchases.
The frog sat there in the middle of the road, a strong taste of metal, and a weaker taste of magic in his mouth. He stared after her.
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-08-27 03:36 am (UTC)“Ugh,” he said. “Take those and give them to the pooka who sells his wares in the grove. Highest quality. Better than any human goods.”
They sparkled, damply. Mercedes drifted a step back, covering her mouth. “That’s disgusting,” she squeaked.
“So you tell me. You didn’t have them clanking around in there for the past day.”
“I…didn’t need to know that.” Grimacing, the fairy dropped her wings and crouched over the…puddle of new monetary advantage. “Are these even real?”
“Of course they’re real,” snapped the frog. “They’re Valentinian. The exchange rate is quite good on them, you’ll find. It ought to serve our purposes quite well. Now, take them. I’m tired of looking at them.” As though to emphasize this, the frog squeezed his eyes shut. Mercedes pulled a leaf patterned handkerchief out from her packs and, not looking too hard, quickly scooped them up.
“Well…thank you,” she said, tucking them away, “I think.”
“This venture is a bad idea on your part and I am aiding it. You have nothing to thank me for.”
Mercedes scowled. “You could at least be a little happy when a queen pays you her compliments.”
The frog eyed her archly. “Oh? There were compliments in that?”
Mercedes felt suddenly cross. “Yes,” she said. And just to be spiteful, she added a, “You’ve been a Very. Good. Friend.” She flew off to make her purchases.
The frog sat there in the middle of the road, a strong taste of metal, and a weaker taste of magic in his mouth. He stared after her.
“…mad rulers are the worst,” he muttered.