Mellny (prime)/Mellny. No coffee required

Mellny. No coffee required.

Originally posted on the official forums by JAKAESA on 01/10/2020 at 09:51 PM CST.

So many ways people can wake up. A slow drift, gentle, as a feather tumbling from the sky of sleep to the ground of awakening. A clawing from sleep, as if emerging from a buried coffin. Reluctantly, after retreating into dreams to hide from wakefulness, then found and dragged out.

In one minute, in a tiny lofted room, Mellny sleeps. In the next minute, awake! Yesterdays rush into her mind to dance a jig while the possibilities of today madly begin to twirl.

TalkyTalky Man! So. Many. Words. He got a disease, he said. A sickness called lokwacious. She don't know what that be exactly, but she hopes it involves pustules that engorge flaming on his skin, then burst in oozing sickly green goo fountains. Maybe some shaky shaky seizures and he drops, stretched out and jerky, foaming at the mouth while gasping out fragments of fancy words until he turns purple? Maybe his EYEBALLS will burst? She squirms happily, in that second before her eyes open.

Those arrows! That arrow? One? Two? Many? She doesn't know, but thrills to recall. The first piercing the grouchy shrew that be expert about stupid people. Zoomed out of a shadow blurring with blue and THUNKED into that mean-talking biddy. Smelt of death and lemon tarts and maybe a little cinnamon? Oy! Laid her out right good! Mellny emits a tiny OOOH of joy, in that second before her eyes open.

The giantwhiplady! Whatever promises she not be keeping must be all sorts of important for the twitching arrow with squiggles to be whistling after her. But, yeesh, that whip! So mighty fine, that whip, each little bone leaning to caress the next, all flexing and squirming and fitting together to lash smoothly as one. And the mossy dark elf, he says he got a good old whip, but he didn't pull one out or nothing. So he probably all talk. Mellny huffs, disappointed in a possibly only-pretend whip, in that second before her eyes open.

Glorious yelling! And that office? The screechy gnomelady said it were a comfortable place, so maybe she don't know much neither because those benches were awful hard. If the other bloke takes it over, he could buy some cushions. Soft and fluffy. A slew of them folks, like that elf girl and that tall dark elf and that half-elf and that other dark elf? Maybe they already spend too much time sitting on hard things. But cushions might make them holler less? Maybe no cushions. Mellny shifts restlessly and indecisively, in that second before her eyes open.

Oy! The arrow might come back! Or a new arrow? TalkyTalky Man might strangle and and stiffen dead, bound up by fancy words without air! That truefolk with the muffins might bake more? Maybe meet those kids that sleep in the day and see if they know any games awake? More loud words and thunkings and thumpings? Sides to pick? Middles to fill? What would the bloke do with that loud biddy's head? Cliffs and voices and spinning and oy, so much could happen. Did someone say muffins? She be hungry!

Mellny opens brightly blue eyes to another day filled with tantalizing possibilities.