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Aug 12, 2020 7:04 PM
it's a beautiful day in the land of horrible gooses
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Robin is out in the plumab orchard, hanging upside-down off a branch and plucking its fruits to drop in a basket below. He doesn't, strictly speaking, need to be hanging upside down, but the most recent Terrible Proclamation had ordered that all work should be performed upside down in order to take advantage of the head rush, thus speeding the work up, and every so often he likes to try out the new laws.

It's nonsense, but it's fun, so why not?

He drops a few more ripe plumabs into the basket, plop plop plop, and then pulls himself up to relax on the branch, holding on tightly and blinking as the blood rushes out of his head. Once he's got his bearings back, he looks out over the orchard contently, idly peeling a fruit for a quick mid-morning snack. 

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There's a very annoyed looking fairy flying between the trees, dressed in white - a very odd color, for a fairy - and with brown moth wings - extra odd, given that most fairies have butterfly or dragonfly wings. He seems to be looking for something.

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Huh. You don't see fairies out this way very often, odd-looking or not. Maybe he's lost?

"S'cuse me, sir!" He calls, waving to try to draw his attention, "Do you need help finding something?" 

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He glances up and flutters up to a perch a few tree branches away from Robin.

"Yeah. Anyone here turned sixteen recently?"

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Weird question, but one he can answer! That's always nice. "Yeah actually. Me, two days ago. A girl in the village over thataway, too, but that was a couple weeks ago, so I don't know if it counts as 'recent'."

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He shrugs and pulls a large goose feather out of thin air, throwing it unerringly at Robin.

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"Ack!" He flails a bit, trying to grab it before it hits him, but it's too fast for him. It bounces off his chest - "ouch" - and then he catches it. "What-"

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It turns into a white sword, still feather-light, with a feather-shaped blade and some rather extraneous feather motifs on the handle and blade itself.

"Congratulations. You're the Rightful Heir," the fairy says, deadpan.

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He almost drops it, saving it at the last second with a quick lunge that sets the branch shaking.

"I'm what!?" He asks, once he's stable again. "The Rightful- I'm the Missing Heir? But-" He stops, aware that protesting that he's just a common boy isn't going to mean much, given all the Goose rulers were raised among regular folk. He stares down at the sword, mind going a mile a minute, until he comes to- 

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"Oh honk, I have to defeat the Evil Vizier." 

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"I have to help you," he says, not sounding particularly thrilled.

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Wow, no need to sound so enthusiastic. 

"Are you my fairy godmother, then?"

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"She broke her hip. I'm the understudy."

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Blink. "Fairy godmothers have understudies?" 

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"Yeah."

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"Huh." 

There are more important matters, Robin! He reminds himself.

"I'm the Rightful Heir. Okay. So, Evil Vizier, hooow... do we do this. Also," he realizes, "I should tell Granny what's happened- did she know this whole time-" he falls backwards dramatically until he's hanging upside down from the branch again, one hand on his head and the other flung out, sword dangling almost far enough to touch the ground.

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"You might want to turn that back into a feather. And I have no idea what your grandmother knows."

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He lifts the sword up to stare at it. It's very pretty. "Um. How?" 

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"I have no idea, it's goose-made. Intend to write a sonnet with it?"

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Writing sonnets: not really a common activity for him! He'll give anything a try, though. He attempts to broadcast 'intent to sonnet' at the sword, considering what he'd even write one about. Heron, maybe, her strong hands on the pestle roughly grinding- he shakes his head, looking down at the sword.

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Sword: en-pens.

"Great."

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"Right, lovely, excellent." He reaches up to grab hold of the branch with his other hand, and then swings himself off and drops to the ground. 

"I've got a lot of questions," he informs the fairy - he should stop calling him 'the fairy' - "Starting with: what's your name? I'm Robin. Of Gooses, apparently."

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"Alyssum." He flutters down to hover near Robin. It's a bit clearer here exactly how small he is - smaller than Robin's head, though he's not really staying still enough for measurements.

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He squints. Are fairies always that small? He hasn't seen many, and none up close. Did he fly all the way from the capital? At this size? 

"How far did you fly? Want some plumab?" He raises his hand, realizes he must have dropped the one he'd been peeling at some point, and then points to the basket instead. 

(The basket: is also no longer there. Instead there is a pile of fruit, sans basket. He blinks at it. Oh well, doesn't change the offer.)

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"I used a fairy route, so not far. And sure." He gestures, levitating a plumob over to himself and cutting off a chunk.

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"Right, that's good. Okay, actual questions." 

Suddenly, his mind is a blank page.

He lowers himself down to sit against the tree to buy time, grabbing another fruit for himself. 

"...Okay, the Vizier. Do you know anything about how I'm supposed to defeat her? Also, do you know what the honk the last king..." 

He has to stop to stare into the distance for a long moment.

"...What my father did that got him assassinated?" 

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