The Swan

"You're late again," Snowflake intoned irritably. She dumped some everbiscuit and evermash onto his plate and unceremoniously sloshed cider into his cup.

  Snowflake's image and persona conflicted deliciously. She had the aura of an angel. Her long dark chestnut hair was set in helical curls. Her complexion was translucent, delicate and pale. Long black lashes framed a pair of wide, questioning eyes. Around her floated a following of glittering entotopics and cybugs. However, when she spoke she threw daggers. Many of her admirers called her "the swan", but this was partly in joke as she was rather unpleasant to deal with. Occasionally she would say something nice, but when it occurred it was always followed by something barbed and nasty.

  "When are you due for your next regeneration?" Snowflake asked Jasper.

  Jasper paused a moment to think.

The End

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