All Hail Our Princess.

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Goggle-Face

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It’s silent still. She’s not talking. Then again, neither am I. No one’s bothering to speak. All we hear is our breath, the grandfather clock, god only knows how old it is, and me, pouring the tea.

I slid the cup, on its matching saucer, over to my lady. She nods in appreciation, and takes up cup into her hand and takes a sip, holding the cup in one hand and the saucer in the other. She lowers them both down back onto the table, putting it down without a sound. Years of practise.

Then the doors open. Both of us look over, seeing someone enter. Patchouli, walking in like a child waking up from their nap -- slouch in her step, her eyes droopy, and her clothing especially -- steps up to the table, right in front of my lady. She doesn’t bow, she doesn’t say anything respectful. She speaks and it’s brutally honest and dull.

“Meiling reported to seeing Cirno being defeated by the lake,” The purple-haired librarian said, “And Rumia is nowhere to be found, with no case of sudden darkness. She believes they might be returning.”

They? Call them by their real names, you wench.

“Oh, really now?” My lady speaks, drinking from her cup again. She gives Patchouli a sly smile, her words sound otherwise to her expression; her face is that of a con artist, her voice of a caring mother. “Please do not be alarmed, Patchouli, I am sure that you are terrified of these intruders destroying your library again.” I could laugh at the stupidity of this comment. Patchouli is never scared, she doesn’t even smile. She stands with no expression, and she can only get angry. This woman can’t feel anything else besides contentment. “I will have Sakuya dispose of Marisa once more. If all else fails, I’ll come help and get rid of the girl.”

“Reimu’s with her.”

This makes my lady stop her sip, pulling the cup from her lips. “What? Both of them?”

Patchouli nods. “Not quite sure why they’re both on their way up, for the Scarlet Devil mist is gone.”

I finally speak. “Flandre could be used.”

This stops us all. No, everything. I can’t even hear the clock anymore. No one is breathing.

My lady turns her head to me. Her sly look is gone. She’s mad, I can tell, Patchouli can tell, if Meiling was here she could see she was mad. “Flandre? Flandre?

“Flandre. She could easily dispose of them, if not kill them both and get rid of our nusiance, make you pleased--”

My lady has dropped her cup. Not put down, not slam on the table, drop it. It crashes to the floor, spilling tea on our feet, staining our ankles. She gets to her feet instantly, slamming her hands on the table. Now although I don’t sound all that scared to you, I’m terrified right now. I take a step back, a few of them, while she screams.

“Flandre is uncontrollable!! You NEVER offer her!! She’s extremely unstable, you useless maid! How f`cking stupid can you be to offer such a thing?! She will not only destroy my toys, but destroy us all and run rampart down Gensokyo! If they someone manage to find her in the basement for whatever reason, that shall be the only exception for her to see humans! She’ll kill us all by the night is done!” Patchouli hasn’t moved. She just looks at the seat my lady-- Remilia had sat in. Remilia is screaming at me, Patchouli sees this, but she doesn’t dare step in, for it would defiantly be the last thing she did, I have no doubts in that.

Remilia goes to scratch at me, to claw at me, and then my instincts just had to kick in. I step back and move my arm back, clenching it in a fist. But, I would never hit my mistress. I get those knives of mine; hold them in my fingers, and… she’s frozen.

If you look at Patchouli, you wouldn’t be able to tell anything different. She’s always still, maybe she doesn’t even breathe. But Remilia is frozen in the air, with a wicked expression on her face, arms outstretched, trying to dive at me.

I froze time on my mistress and dang it felt good.

Alright, and now time to strike damage.

I step back much more -- no, I jump back, as if I was fighting -- and then finally unfreeze time. I really have no clue how I do that, even though I myself have ‘years of training’. Is it my thoughts? When I feel like it? A time limit and I always seem to finish up just in time?

I watch Remilia fall down on her face, crashing to the floor. She has landed in some of the tea she spilt. Thankfully, no cuts from the cup itself, so she should be fine.

She sits up, glaring knives as sharp as my own right into me. It hurts, it really does… “How dare you.

I’ve done it now.

She stands up.

Stop time.

She gets ready to dive.

Stop it.

She jumps.

I told you to stop it.

I drop my knives. I know I’m done for, I’ve made her mad.

Stop, quickly!

She’s coming towards me, about to pounce me down.

STOP!

The tea is still there, isn’t it?

 
You are a fantastic writer. The story has excellent flow, a nice air of suspence to it at the end, and the charachters are lovely.

The only mistake I saw was the mispelling of practice.

I really admire your work, and this just leave me wanting to read more.

 
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