merimange.

Albertina is making a royal mess of things.

She’s weaving webs and making pies all in a single, swift motion.

No one’s really sure how she does it.

No one’s really sure she does it.

With the skill of a well-versed multi-tasker, she kneads dough and hums to herself as her spinnerets spool out yards of sticky, treacherous line.

Those who, enchanted by the sweet scent wafting towards them on the waves of her song, make the grave mistake of trusting her always wind up immobilized by the viscous strands.

She’s a one-woman death trap. 

Smiling, she wipes her hands on her apron and takes pie to the survivors.

Cherry.

It’s her trademark.

snyde.

Honora cheated.

Sort of.

Honorably, at least.

She repeats her little autobiographical tongue-twister a few times before entering the building.

Honora evades honorably.

Honora evades honorably.

Honora evades honorably.

The peppy posters accost her vision immediately.

God.

This is going to be a long...

She stops mid-thought, frustrated at the current impossibility of any form of temporal quantification.

Ugh.

Where’s Coggs when you need him?

Everyone says this is the hardest part.

She doesn’t know Everyone personally; in light of her current surroundings, the trustworthiness of Their opinion has become dubious in her mind. 

Her mind.

Enter The Reason, stage left. 

Deep breath.

She steps up.

Time to face the music.

Oh, goody.