Chrysalis

Gweheheheheh. GWEHEHEHEHEHEHEH.

MUAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAAAA!

[OI! Think you can pin us to the ground?! Let me up and I’ll knock the snot out of ya!]

[That’s not flying! That’s floating at best! Eyyy? EYYYY!?!?]

[When I get off the ground, I’m gonna shirtfront ya! Even if you can’t wear a shirt!]

Yes. Yesssss. Grovel before me! You insignificant pigeons! Who’s laughing now? Who is soaring majestically through the air now?! It’s me. I’m doing that.

The gravity well pulses with power, holding my bulk aloft while pressing the annoying, irritating Magpei down into the ground where I can mock them at my leisure.

[Still chirping are you, little birdie?] I gloat, reaching down with one leg to poke a particularly persistent specimen on the cheek. [Shouldn’t you be trying to work out how to get off the ground rather than let your mouth write cheques your fists can’t cash?]

[I’ll show you a cheque, mate! I’ll knock your castle down! I’m nobody's pawn!]

[Well come along then! I’m waiting!]

I hover above as the Magpei makes a valiant effort to rise, managing to force himself up onto his hands and knees before I up the power and squash him down again.

[Oh, so close! Gweheheheheh. I’ll leave you there for a while and come back later to check on your progress.]

It fills me with such glee to see them struggling to get off the ground. How many times have they insulted my proud insect form for lacking wings since I arrived? FOUR-HUNDRED AND THIRTY SIX! Do they even know what they’re talking to? I’m an ant! A descendant of the wasp! You really think there aren’t any flying ants?!

But I’m something different, something new. I don’t even NEED them! I wiggle my antennae with glee as I float in glorious circles above the market.

Interestingly, the non-Magpei clientele continue about their shopping, speaking with the brathian merchants, asking questions of the ant carvers and generally enjoying themselves. I get the strong impression that visitors getting into… strenuous disagreements with the birdbrains isn’t that rare an event. These people have probably learned to tolerate it just as they have every other eccentricity of the feathered fiends they share the island with.

myself have certainly not reached such a point of zen, so I continue to vent my

of your wings a minute ago! Come on, use them! Fly! You can fly, can’t you? I thought you were great at flying. Wasn’t being on the ground… let me think about how you put it… ‘the

get angry! This is my vengeance! This

taken from Royal Road, this story should

done up there?]

tears of frustration are rolling down their faces, when they cry out to their mothers and beg forgiveness, maybe

she asks,

rare, but it does happen. Eldest! You’re disrupting the market! We need to trade with these people.

they’ve been trading with us are insults! I’m

stand, better put a stop to that. Back to the

hold them down forever, you’re going to have to let them go at some point. And if you keep doing it, more of

of them will

you really want to try and hold down ten thousand of them? Think of

into the dirt, they haven’t let up. Understandably, their insult-swinging has only become more vigorous. The main difference is that I can freely throw their words back in their faces, laughing with

worth it! I haven’t come out in so

few minutes! I’ll have had my fill by

to fly again in a few minutes, you rats! Enjoy your last moments grinding your faces into the mud, and then you can fly, knowing you only get to fly because I

let you taste my fist,

from an

even make a fist! I’ll give you

cobba! You’ll be crying out of every lens by the time I’m

that, then come up here and show me right now! Come on! Come oooooon! What’s the matter?

already! You mug! Not even your mother could love

is very

we got a

want to fly again, you better not

….

[Fine. We respect mums.]

[Agreed. Mums are off-limits.]