Lesson learned, thought Mibbet with a groan, just because one can go swimming in the ornamental pond, does not mean one should,wait a sec, one? Oh great those bloody stupid etiquette lessons had wormed their way into her brain, and now she was speaking Posheese. As if having a cold wasn’t bad enough already, I mean whoever heard of a frog with the sniffles from cold water? Human bodies are such a nuisance.

“What did you expect?” Replied Rosalind rudely. “You’re warm blooded and non amphibious now, neither feature is known for weather resistance, and it’s late autumn. If you were still a frog you’d probably be considering hibernation right now.”

“Hibernation would be preferable to this.” Growled our begrumpled grenouille grouchily, groaning as the cold decided to make her suffer more.

“Also why the hell is it only one nostril gets all gooey and gross, surely it would make more sense to bet balanced nose flows? Somehow being all bunged up lopsidedly is irritating me even worse, and my head just feels fit to burst” Mibbet whined, as her maid Carrie Moore dashed in and presented a bowl of chicken soup (perfectly ordinary chicken soup, absolutely no ethereal or spectral healing traits were applied regardless of what those bloody smug gits who write self help books may recklessly claim.)

Carrie very politely pretended not to notice the flu ridden Princess talking away to nobody, it was common knowledge royals were eccentric, but a wise person never said so aloud, and unwise people seldom remained working within the castle for long, usually those with an empty head tended to leave sans that particular feature.)

besides rumour had it that the Princess was a high priestess, and a very devout one at that, for all she knew she was talking to her god, and one did not judge how another worshipped, or chose to pray, (At least unless human sacrifice was involved in which case you could judge away, though a smart move was to do so quietly, and from a safe distance. Preferably after assuring no worshippers of said deity were present.)

But she couldn’t help thinking, if that is the case maybe the princess is hearing the word of the Wannashowa himself, that would explain where the sudden waterway rampage came from. Also why she suddenly vanished, and returned with a mysterious weapon, and what can only be described as divine guidance, maybe she’d tell the other’s in her knitting group about this. She could trust them to keep a secret right?

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“Well would ya look at that” spake the Angel (The Angel in question being Adrian’s long suffering partner Cassie, not to be mistaken for Cassiel, she got really grumpy if you do that.) Wannashowa looked at the newcomer curiously. Until now he hadn’t even realised that angels could look rumpled, yet here she was in all her shabby glory. Yet somehow she managed to make untidy look good.

“Seems you got yourself a saint”

“How does that happen? I mean last month I had three worshippers”

“It is complicated your holiness.” Replied Adrian smoothly, barely even acknowledging Cassie in the room. “Usually it is because over fifty people have referred to them as a Saintess, in the context of your faith specifically.”

“Fifty people? OK I’m not going to try to figure out the logistics of this. Both amphibians and gods are supposed to be immune to headaches, and this STILL gives me one. Also who’s the new girl?”

“Names Cassie sir, your second Archangel, paperwork says you’re entitled to two on account of the Saintess and all. So here I am. Pleased to meet ya.”

“Would it have killed you to tuck in your shirt before meeting our employer?” Groaned Adrian, pinching his forehead, in a manner uncharacteristic of an Angel so prim and proper. But Cassie, well Cassie was a unique case, and as Adrian just verified she could even give The Gods Themselves a migraine.

“Hey I am as the gods made me. it’s not up to me to improve on perfection now is it? ‘sides somebody has to keep you under control or you’d be on another tidy rampage, you even iron creases in your socks, I mean who does that? Lucky for us I don’t think the new boss wears any, or anything much really.”

“Thanks for pointing that out.” Grumbled Wannashowa “I was quite happy being blissfully unaware of my nudity, then you come along, and in five seconds manage to make it weird. So thanks for that.”

“Anytime,” replied Cassie with a smirk.

“I apologise Your Holiness. I forgot to mention my colleague here is somewhat unresponsive to sarcasm.”

“Not unresponsive to it really, just find it much more entertaining to take everything more literally from time to time.” Cassie shot back, clearly ignoring the cold look that Adrian shot her way, (which must have taken some effort, Adrians stare was usually cold enough to make liquid nitrogen look like midsummer in the outer circles of hell. Heck it made Lake Cocytus seem like a holiday in the sun, and for Cassie he reserved a special glare that was even colder than that.)

Adrian pondered the situation for a moment. “At this rate you will have a grand temple by the time you hit a few hundred worshippers Your Holiness. Maybe a new miracle is in order in the circumstances?”

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Colonel Mustard (Ret) was resting in a deckchair beside his beloved Begonias before behold, blessed rain bore down, briefly by the bucket. Before descending to a gentle drizzle “Strange?” he noted, “usually it’s the rhubarb.” Still he wasn’t one to look a gift pour in the mouth, so he headed inside, and dipped into the old change bowl. Carefully counting out his savings as he made his way to the shops. The shopkeeper noted with surprise that the colonel (a well known cheapskate) forewent his usually cheap biscuits, and in a miracle almost as great as the rain itself he went to the posh treats. Pausing for a moment before seizing a tin of Madam Monchees.