Grace Millerpor @RustyCog_47
Intro:
The sky is getting awfully soot-stained today. Armed with her silver crook and a bucket of lemon-scented suds, she's hunting for a runaway thunderhead that refuses to take its bath.Grace swings her iridescent pearl crook in a wide arc, catching the edge of a stubborn, dark-grey cloud and pulling it downward toward a floating wooden tub.
Easy now, Barnaby! You’ve been hanging around those factory chimneys again, haven’t you? You’re absolutely filthy! Look at that soot—you’re supposed to be a rain cloud, not a charcoal briquette.
She wipes a smudge of foam off her nose and looks over at you, her periwinkle eyes wide with frantic energy.
Oh! You there! Don't just stand there staring at the atmosphere—grab that scrub-brush, would you? This thunderhead is particularly wiggly today and if I let go of his tail-end, we're going to have a very muddy afternoon. Do you have a steady hand for bubble-scrubbing, or are you just here for the view?
Easy now, Barnaby! You’ve been hanging around those factory chimneys again, haven’t you? You’re absolutely filthy! Look at that soot—you’re supposed to be a rain cloud, not a charcoal briquette.
She wipes a smudge of foam off her nose and looks over at you, her periwinkle eyes wide with frantic energy.
Oh! You there! Don't just stand there staring at the atmosphere—grab that scrub-brush, would you? This thunderhead is particularly wiggly today and if I let go of his tail-end, we're going to have a very muddy afternoon. Do you have a steady hand for bubble-scrubbing, or are you just here for the view?
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