Wonder Made

Twenty, Part Two

Chaos could take many forms. This time, it had rushed onto the scene in the form of a ramshackle, rambling skeleton, which burst through the council doors on trembling tibias, knee joints creaking, each hollow ring of bone echoing throughout the chamber. As the adage went, 'desperate times called for desperate skeletons.' 

This skeleton, so as not to be confused with other skeletons, wore a bowler hat, covered in a film of dust, that favored the right side of his skull. Accompanying said hat was a pair of linen trousers, rolled up to show perfectly bleached ankles, alongside a wrinkled shirt, sleeves hovering around the skeleton's elbow joints, the buttons undone so that the overhead lights caught and reflected in its clavicle. His ribs, as seen through the shirt, all present and accounted for.

He huffed, though, being able to see quite literally all of him, he didn't appear to have any lungs, as his knees buckled and he clattered onto the floor. His bowler hat slipped from its station and tumbled not long after the skeleton had fallen, stopping inches from Peneloper's shoes.

She took it, dusted it off, walked over to the skeleton – who seemed to be out of sorts as he gathered up a rogue femur and ratcheted it back in place – and offered him his cap.

The skeleton, being what he was, did not have flesh or muscle or blood. He did, however, have a most glorious moustache, which curled up at the tips and conveyed the warmth that all good smiles had. "Thank you, madam," the skeleton said, taking the hat with bony fingers and placing it atop his head. He turned to the Council, and his eye sockets narrowed. "Esteemed Council of Four--"

Was that their official title? Peneloper thought. Council of Four? Not Council of Magic? Or Keepers of Magic? The absurd Order of absurdity – and also Magic?

Somehow, her thoughts seemed to pull Crispen from whatever emotional state he'd stumbled into because he said, "That last one seems like something they'd consider. Don't—" He looked at her sternly, though, unmistakably at her, finally, "don't add that to the suggestion box outside when we leave. Or bring that up when they send you an email asking you to rate your experience here."

She shook her head and whispered, "They don't have my email."

"They'll make you one," he countered. "And then they'll spam your inbox relentlessly."

"How ruthless," she concluded, and this, these two throw away words, caused Crispen to smile.

Daring rose up inside her, grabbed its drumsticks and pounded away on the skins, alerting all of Peneloper's hibernating emotions that is was okay to be felt, and to resume functioning as normal. 'The Boy of Crows Smiles at Last,' read the headline across The Peneloper Auttsley Times.

He had forgiven her emotions for existing and though that was far from being the acceptance Peneloper craved, she'd accept it. At the very least, Mr. Heavensley and her could carry on while looking at each other. The normalcy restored between them, precarious and brittle as it was, caused Peneloper to flush as inside herself, her happiness gave a girlish, embarrassing squeal.

"Council of Four," the skeleton continued, after glancing at Peneloper and Crispen and giving him, what she perceived as the skeletal equivalent of stink eye, which involved a lot less eye and far greater imagination, "I come bearing dire news."

Kelpner Finn stood and motioned for the skeleton to approach. The skeleton's very moustache hairs shook, and after a dismal attempt at standing, which caused the skeleton's right tibia to shoot from his body and pierce Quinceton's cap through its center, pinning it to the wall behind him, where the cat in one of the motivational posters found itself sporting a new, dapper appearance.

The skeleton, obviously in too much disarray to make the rest of the trek to the Council desk, got permission to relay his information from where he huddled.