“Has anyone seen Bells?” Asked Queen Aisha of the Bloody Republic.
“The court jester?” Replied Monarch Estragon of the Everflowering Forest.
“Jest her? I hardly know her.” Quipped Aisha. Estragon groaned. “But seriously, yes, she’s gone missing and I need to find her before we all kill each other.”
Aisha paused, then added.
“And there is also a separate matter, a very serious matter, which I need to discuss with her.”
---
In the parliament of royalty, comedy was no laughing matter. Every nation of the world sent their king, queen or monarch to represent them; almost nowhere else could you find such an incredible concentration of power. Whether inherited, proclaimed or elected, every royal who was worth talking about was there.
And where there were royals worth talking about, you had best believe that you would also find a jester.
And not just any jester, but *the* jester. The winner of the grand satirical tourney. The mirthster with the sharpest wit, the most dextrous contortions of mind and body, and the constitution to withstand immense pressure and inevitable poisonings.
The current jester, known only as ‘The Bells That Herald Ruin’, would often claim to be the single most important person out of all the assembled political powerhouses. Only she was not bound by the shackles of diplomacy. Only she could speak the truth in that house of lies, damned lies and hubristics.
And she was currently lying facedown in the gutter.
---
“C’mon.” Queen Aisha said, lifting the bloody jester up off the floor. “It’s time to court.”
“Right, yeah…” The Bells That Herald Ruin mumbled through a mouthful of blood, whiskey and teeth, none of which she was sure were her own. “I’m the most imp’tant p’son there…y’know?”
“Oh, no. You can’t see the royals in this condition.” The Queen carefully wiped some blood off of the jester’s brow.
“You should see the other guys- demons- … fuckos.” The Bells That Herald Ruin abandoned her attempt to catergorise the entities with which she’d been brawling. She decided, instead, to concentrate on nestling as closely as possible into the crook of Queen Aisha’s shoulder.
“I could hardly miss them.” Aisha said as she stepped carefully over one of the other groaning and bloody bodies in the gutter.
“So why’d you say it’s time for court if’n we’re not going … court?”
Queen Aisha took a moment to judge the jester’s level of injury and inebriation. She bit her lip.
“I said it’s time *to* court. As in, I’m about to start courting your ass.”
“You … you would court the court jester? Double court? Court squared?”
“We’ll start with coffee, doofus. And when you’re recovered, I’ll take you out on a date.”
“I’ll wear my jangliest hat.”
“...please don’t.”
60 notes
·
View notes
Someone needs to draw Marcille in mime makeup.
Please...
Please...
Marcille Marceau
IDC if my puns are actionable
Shock me if you will, but none shall stop my brain cells from committing atrocities
21 notes
·
View notes
Jesus christ, I wish to just one day be this pinnacle of wit, horniness, and sacrilege.
63K notes
·
View notes
Hot queer spaces tip: never trust any spot that has fewer than 2 fat and hairy people present!! You have no idea what other problems the space has if they can’t even meet the bear minimum
62K notes
·
View notes