Page 75 of Velveteen vs. The Consequences of Her Actions

Persephone: Animus, goddess of spring.

Lady Moon: Light manipulation, personification of Carnival.

Jack in the Green/Pan: Immortality, flight.

The Easter Bunny: We don’t really know; giant rabbit.

Geb: Something to do with geese.

Autumn:

Hailey Ween: Matter manipulation, Halloween Princess.

Scaredy Cat: Shapeshifting, Halloween guardian.

Scream Queen: Empath.

Trick: Matter manipulation.

Treat: Matter manipulation.

Mischief: Matter manipulation.

Winter:

Aurora: Unknown.

Lucy: Fire manipulation.

Santa Claus: Santa powers.

Jack Frost: Ice manipulation, cold generation, flight.

Snow Queen: Teleportation, mirror transport, ice manipulation.

Mrs. Claus: Unknown.

Jacqueline Claus: See file.

VELVETEEN

vs.

LIFE

* * *

VELVETEEN vs. Recovery

Life at the Crystal Glitter Unicorn Cloud Castle followed a fairly strict set of guidelines. “Magical, predictable, marketable,” was the household motto, frequently proclaimed by any one of a number of rabbits wearing waistcoats. They were, in their own lapine way, the best possible demonstration of how a thing could be both magical and predictable. Sorcery was not a barrier to boredom. Nor should it have been. Magic without predictability was better known as “chaos,” and that was not the way to make the parades run on time.

Predictably, at five minutes past noon, a scream rang out across the sculpture garden. It was followed by the sound of a voice swearing, loudly and creatively. The Princess looked at the decorative hourglass in the center of the table, sighed, and put her teacup down.

“Sometimes I think that girl doesn’t actually want to get any better,” she said, pushing back her chair as she stood. She cut a striking figure, as was only right for the pinnacle of all princesses in the heart of her power. Here, her innate magic combined with the unconscious desires of a million children, making her peerless, perfect, and virtually incapable of getting jam on her sleeves. Her golden hair was gathered into a crown of ringlet curls. Her gown was a confection of silver satin and silk somehow dyed the rippling rainbow color of mother-of-pearl. She was, in short, perfect, assuming one was willing to discount the scowl on her face.

On the other side of the table, Jacqueline Claus—“Jack” to her friends, and “Jackie” in her dreams, when she found herself shoved into another life, wearing another skin, one which fit her substantially better—regretfully put down the sugar cookie she had been preparing to dunk in her cocoa. “At least she’s feeling better enough to yell?”

“Honey, that girl’s been feeling well enough to shout at people since before she regained consciousness.” The Princess began the long walk down the garden path toward the stained glass doors that led to the rest of the Castle. Every path here was a long one, to allow for stately sweeping-down, as well as accommodating the sometimes ridiculous trains on her really fancy gowns. Just one more perk of living in an impossible fairy tale castle. “Now if she’d just start feeling well enough to listen to her damn doctor, we’d be in business.”