the Tower Insurmountable (TWS)
12-04-2011, 02:51 AM
"Princess!"
You grunt. Raise your voice. "Not a princess!"
It's automatic, now, and sometimes the clanking at the bottom of the tower goes away. Sometimes they even apologise, hooves clopping into silence and dust. The sensible ones are quick. You pick up a biscuit, grip your pen and hope this one is sensible.
There's more clanking and the noise of a horse.
"Damsel!"
Clearly too much to hope for. And now you've got biscuit in your mouth and your tea just slopped into your lap. "No' a damshel ei'der!" you bellow, crumbs spraying. Where's that towel gone?
Blessed, merciful silence while you mop yourself up. Then irritated whickering, possibly from the horse, and the metallic whong of someone hitting the tower stones in frustration, possibly with a sword. An interlude of swearing follows this. You imagine hitting stone with something that vibrates can't be fun.
Tea, biscuits, paper, pen. Back to work. But a couple minutes later, there's the voice. Bewildered. Whining.
"What are you, then?"
"Grumpy at being disturbed!" Another biscuit, since you may as well take advantage of the break. This one has raisins in. "Now will you go away?"
"But don't you need rescuing?"
"No!" You hesitate. Your mother raised you with manners. "- thank you!" Pen! Paper. Biscuits. Tea. Work. You'll never get your letters done at this ra-
"Are you female?"
"Yes! Now go!"
"Can't." The voice is smug. "Got to rescue females from towers."
You're tempted to throw your tea out the window, but refrain. It's good tea. Tea's hard to get when you live in a tower in the middle of a wasteland. Idiots, however, are easily come by and this idiot seems unlikely to budge without significant- pursuasion.
What to do, what to do?
You grunt. Raise your voice. "Not a princess!"
It's automatic, now, and sometimes the clanking at the bottom of the tower goes away. Sometimes they even apologise, hooves clopping into silence and dust. The sensible ones are quick. You pick up a biscuit, grip your pen and hope this one is sensible.
There's more clanking and the noise of a horse.
"Damsel!"
Clearly too much to hope for. And now you've got biscuit in your mouth and your tea just slopped into your lap. "No' a damshel ei'der!" you bellow, crumbs spraying. Where's that towel gone?
Blessed, merciful silence while you mop yourself up. Then irritated whickering, possibly from the horse, and the metallic whong of someone hitting the tower stones in frustration, possibly with a sword. An interlude of swearing follows this. You imagine hitting stone with something that vibrates can't be fun.
Tea, biscuits, paper, pen. Back to work. But a couple minutes later, there's the voice. Bewildered. Whining.
"What are you, then?"
"Grumpy at being disturbed!" Another biscuit, since you may as well take advantage of the break. This one has raisins in. "Now will you go away?"
"But don't you need rescuing?"
"No!" You hesitate. Your mother raised you with manners. "- thank you!" Pen! Paper. Biscuits. Tea. Work. You'll never get your letters done at this ra-
"Are you female?"
"Yes! Now go!"
"Can't." The voice is smug. "Got to rescue females from towers."
You're tempted to throw your tea out the window, but refrain. It's good tea. Tea's hard to get when you live in a tower in the middle of a wasteland. Idiots, however, are easily come by and this idiot seems unlikely to budge without significant- pursuasion.
What to do, what to do?