Caffeine, Quills and Chaos
(The real reason the Lavender Court hasn’t burned down. Yet.)
The office door burst open like it owed someone rent.
Tuppence the magpie rocketed in, feathers bristling, glasses skewed, and a stack of exploding scrolls clutched in one wing. Her other wing was holding what appeared to be a coffee mug and someone’s cursed mushroom, both of which were steaming for different reasons.
“ZEF,” she squawked, dropping the papers like they were aflame, “you better be sittin’ down, and you better have made actual tea this time, not that flowery leaf-water you keep tryin’ to pass off as a beverage.”
Zef looked up from his peaceful desk, where a single perfectly trimmed bonsai sat next to a cup of what was, in fact, floral tea. “Good morning, Tuppence.”
“No, mate. No it bloody ain’t.” She slammed a parchment onto his desk. “Read that. Go on. Out loud. It’s from the cabbage.”
Zef blinked. “This says… ‘The herb garden is now a sovereign micro-nation and demands a seat on the council?’”
“Yes. And the worst part? It’s got majority support. Even the tulips voted yes.”
Zef sipped his tea.
“AND ANOTHER THING,” Tuppence continued, flipping a page with a wing that trembled like it had had three too many flat whites, “Snorb tried to propose to you again last night using cursed mushrooms. The mushrooms were screamin’, Zef. SCREAMIN’. One of ’em shouted something about ‘binding soul contracts through spore romance,’ and then exploded into glitter.”
Zef hummed. “Were they at least arranged nicely?”
“DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE ABOUT BLOODY COMPOSITION?”
Zef offered her a cupcake. Lemon poppy seed.
She took it without breaking eye contact and inhaled it like a vacuum with deadlines. “Right. Next, Moppin’s enchanted the council doors again. Every time someone walks through, it yells ‘YAAAS KING’ in three-part harmony.”
“Ah. That explains the harmonics I heard over breakfast.”
She pulled out another parchment, this one partially scorched. “And guess what Sparklebutt did? Declared himself Minister of Flair and replaced the official seals with his face and the words ‘vibes only.’”
Zef gently patted her wing. “You’re doing great.”
She stared at him, eyes twitching. “Mate. I swear on the shininess of everything sacred, I will staple someone to a comet.”
Zef offered a second cupcake.
Tuppence blinked. Sat down. Ate it. Hard.
Outside, someone screamed, “IT’S ALIVE!” followed by the unmistakable sound of a harp being launched through a window.
Tuppence didn’t move. Just pulled out a scroll labeled "Disasters: Tuesday", dipped her quill, and muttered, “Right. Page seven. Let’s bloody get on with it then.”
