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Rose, a skelly possum nun suitRoseRaven@eldritch.cafe
May 30, 2026, 11:46 PM
The fall quickly became uneventful. Mor was falling, unable to move/adjust/fly anything.
You see, in that time, the windows of heaven were quite magical. They could open to any view desired, and to any height. Almost like the gateways. Except unlike the gateways they only allowed one way travel…. Out.
Mor had seen people thrown out before. Some were simply tossed onto the mountainside nearest heaven. Others into the depths of hell. When the window opened to hell, it was unmistakable, you knew it. So Mor could, she reasoned, safely ignore the possibility that she’d been thrown into hell or the abyss.1
A sudden thought hit her, she didn’t know how long she’d been falling, but she did suddenly have a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long long long long long time. Like a … cramp? Or no, like a headache but in your gut…. It wasn’t gas…. What…
Her eyes opened wide. She was hungry. Oh.
In Heaven, of course, you know, you are never hungry. There is plenty to eat but only for pleasure, never for need. Mor hadn’t eaten their food for the same reason that one often doesn’t. Because it isn’t polite to take a bite and then spit it onto the floor while making gagging sounds and rolling on the floor acting like you are poisoned by their horrible food that it seems impossible one would enjoy.
Besides, it wasn't part of the agreement.
There was a long moment, about as long as the time it takes a bear to nap through a winter. Mor came to the realization that she also hadn’t thought of the agreement in a long time. She almost couldn’t remember it, but she knew nothing had been said that required her to eat food. There was a lot more to it but at it’s core she remembered being invited, to a party, and vowing she’d only leave when they kicked her out.
“Huh.”
This of course was Mor speaking. She was the only one there.
She started keenly watching the area she was falling past. Looking for something that might be considered food.
There was a flash of scales and she shot her hand out like someone doing that really cool thing where you sit by a river until SPLASH you catch a fish.
When she opened her eyes, yes she had closed them in anticipation and excitement, she was holding a medium sized coatl. This was not a fish.
She thought about throwing it back but then the coatl hissed at her. So she conjured a silver flame and roasted the coatl over the silver flame gently pondering being thrown, throne?, Thrane? She wasn’t sure how to spell, only how to read. And of course how to eat overly burnt coatl.
It was crispy but satisfying and the effects of Heaven’s lack of hunger were still lingering.
She watched a sunset.
She watched a moonset.
She watched the sun and moon put on a play about bored scholars falling endlessly down.
Okay maybe that last one wasn’t true.
She tried to stand up in order to practice her sword play but there was nothing to stand on.
She tried to create something to stand on but kept losing focus too easily.
So she took a nap. A good long happy nap. The kind of nap you take when you very much aren’t incredibly angry that you weren’t allowed to finish your book. Or angry that you were invited to an event, then made to go, then thrown out for not being enough… something.
After the time it takes for a mountain to become a slightly raised hill, she fell asleep. And in that moment, the exact moment when consciousness had finally given up and was opening the door to leave, she hit the muddy swamp water with a tremendous splash.
For the record, unlike some swamps, this one was absolutely stagnant. And was filled with fish poop. And insect poop. And that slimy green gunk you find on lake shores. And at least two murdered farmers. And an escaped ox. And some soggy tax paperwork.
It was unpleasant.
Mor was unpleased.
And now she smelled like stagnant, fish poop, insect poop, green gunk, wet ox,and dead bodies.
So she was like the swamp after all.
And everyone knows that like calls to like. Afterall, aren’t people most often in love with themselves, the being they are most like?
Mor wasn’t sure about this question. She was pretty sure most people were not in love with themselves and in fact, had a deep self loathing that it took years of cultivation to remove. This may have only been her, she wasn’t sure.
With a big sigh, and holding her hand high aimed at heaven in a very very very obscene gesture, Mor got up, picked up some sticks and threw them into the air.
Watching how they landed on the water, she muttered. “Figures. Guess I might as well start walking.” And proceeded to do exactly that.
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Rose, a skelly possum nun suitRoseRaven@eldritch.cafe
May 30, 2026, 11:46 PM
Lucinda Marisol wasn’t sure if she should be happy, or nervous, or angry. She didn’t have a lot of feelings about the matter at all. A message in the form of a song delivered by a bear had arrived announcing to her relatives great and stunned joy that she was engaged.
They asked her what she knew of the matter and she sincerely told them she hadn’t known anything at all. Which of course only convinced them further that she did know and was being extremely discrete because the details were salacious.
Her entire family upended their lives to prepare her for the trip. The village did, everyone did. No one from this far down had ever even seen an official of heaven much less been engaged to one. The bear had turned into a helpful 1737 page document on the necessary steps to manage the journey and describing the route to be taken.
Lucinda had been required to sign so many steps marking them complete, that she thought she might be beginning to hate her name. That stage had lasted about two weeks.
Since then there had been hundreds of fittings of new dresses, new shoes, new jewelry. She’d even gotten a new sword. During fittings/meals and throughout the entire day local monks would grill her on facts and knowledge and who is who in the ranks of heaven.
No one had gotten around to telling her the name of her new groom. The bear had said his name was too holy to be spoken this far from the court. She supposed that fit with the fact that she knew nothing else about him either. She took to telling herself in her mind that she was marrying the Nothing Lord Nothing of Nothing and Nowhere out of a fit of childish rebellion against this.
But outside of that one defiance she truly poured herself into fitting this new mold. She learned every scrap the monks could provide. She pieced together a trader’s grasp of heaven’s vocabulary. She learned the 23 poses of the 29 angels. She taught herself to walk like mist floating below a dragon. She only drank dew drops and only ate sunbeams, this last bit helped a little with the dress fittings.
Her hair was braided like the Duchess of the Cranes of Wind. Her jewelry took stylings from the stars of the Dragonfly and the Puma. Every single detail of her outfit, dress, habits, speech, and body language was carefully cultivated to ensure she would be pleasing to any heavenly noble who might be engaged to her.
Her calligraphy was perfection itself. Her manner; that of a demure dove.
She carefully studied the impeccable art of fencing without breaking a sweat or gasping unduly.
Lucinda had checked and double checked every step of the document she’d been given. Not an idle minute was wasted. She was a dutiful daughter and a representative of her village and would make sure she didn’t bring shame to their name by accepting this high honor that was so far above them it wasn’t believable that it had actually happened.
She consulted the stars to determine the arrival of the guide sent by heaven. She spent her evenings in prayer at every shrine in her village and the surrounding villages. She began keeping a detailed account of her preparations to better prepare the next girl that such an auspiciously inconvenient blessing might happen to.
The months stretched into a year and then into a second year.
She had begun training local young people in the many things she’d learned. They even set up a small but functional monastery for her to use during her training of others.
Students came from miles around, eager to learn how they might better improve not only their lives but their family’s fortunes.
By the time her escort arrived, Lucinda had almost turned herself into someone that someone could believe would have gotten a surprise engagement from Heaven’s Court.
She was standing, on the steps of her monastery, looking out into the swamp at the hour of her guide’s arrival. Her face was as radiant as the moon is on snow. She was calm as a still water pond wreathed in gold and marble. She did not appear overly eager nor bored and unhappy.
She was, frankly, as close to perfect as any being not of Heaven proper could be.
Her eyes fell upon the guide that came out of the swamp, covered in mud and muck, trudging a trudge of a servant mucking out their seventh stable. Even in the twilight, even with the muck, the seal of Heaven burning brightly on the guide’s brow.
And in that moment, Lucinda, for the first time in her life said:
“Fuck.”
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Rose, a skelly possum nun suitRoseRaven@eldritch.cafe
May 30, 2026, 11:47 PM
At this point, having read the section before this moment, one might wonder, this seems rather suspicious. Why this girl, and why was this done months before the party where in Mor was thrown out of heaven and on this glorified fetch quest?
So, reader, let us travel back a few breaths in time to a conversation being had on a balcony, in a hidden room, in a lost wing, of a forgotten neighborhood of Heaven. A conversation between The Empress of Heaven, most benevolent wife of the Sun Emperor, shining jewel of the stars (EOHMBWOTSESJOTS) and the Grand Imperial Chancellor of the Receipts(TGICOTR). For this conversation and the ease on the reader’s eyes this text will use the official acronyms for both parties to shorten the number of words that must be read.
TEOHMBWOTSESJOTS: “Benevolent Chancelor”
TGICOTR: “Oh EOHMBWOTSESJOTS, have mercy on me, a lowly chancellor who is not worthy of your voice.”
TEOHMBWOTSESJOTS: “Mercy granted. Now that is out of the way, what were you able to find for me.”
TGICOTR: “There isn’t any conditions upon her invitation here. She isn’t a prisoner, and she has no record of earning residence here. She’s been a guest for at least two reincarnations of your husband. I can’t even find records of her entrance into heaven.”
TEOHMBWOTSESJOTS: “Nothing? Can we do nothing? She is the most annoying person in the library. She giggles when she reads her books and the entire library can hear it. And she isn’t reading books that wouldn’t cause her to giggle.”
TGICOTR: “I mean you can always throw a guest out.”
TEOHMBWOTSESJOTS: “If I do it without cause my husband will replace me with his boyfriend. It isn’t that he cares for her. He doesn’t even know her. He’s just looking for a reason.”
TGICOTR: “So generate a reason. I’ve never seen her eat anything here. She is impossibly rude, and she slurps her tea like a dog. Invite her to an occasion as an “award” and when she fails all acceptable decorum you can use that as your justification for removing her.”
TEOHMBWOTSESJOTS: “I’ll have to leave her with a route to redemption though. You know how he is.”
TGICOTR: “Actually I think I can accommodate you there. I have a boorish cousin, who I hate a lot, and who offended me with his smell recently. I can insult him AND provide Mor with a ridiculous redemption option that will never succeed. I will draw from the records a name of a worthless peasant from the edges of the lands that can see Heaven. I will announce his engagement to someone so worthless that it will shame him for all time, AND you can make retrieving his bride and molding her into an acceptable bride for heaven the redemption task. Mor can’t even earn her own way into heaven, there is no way she’ll be able to train another to do so.”
For a long time these two esteemed members of the heavenly court sat drinking tea and pondering how wise, beautiful, and amazing their plan and their personages were. Then with mutual loathing and utmost curtesy, they stood bowed and left the room by different doors.
A short time later TEOHMBWOTSESJOTS called all of her maids and all of her guards and all of her eggs on a wall. She tasked them with coming up with the fanciest, most cultivated, most heavenworthy challenge that she can put before all of the guests of heaven in order to help them “earn” a spot as her staff.
A nearly equally short time later TGICOTR, berated a terrified records keeper into delving into the most forgotten stacks of the records for a suitable bride. The records keeper, terrified of making a mistake and offending heaven, did make a mistake. He thought that TGICOTR wanted someone actually suitable. So digging long enough he found a sparkling soul in the muck that is the outer realms, and gave that name to TGICOTR.
And so it was announced that the cousin of TGICOTR would be married to someone from the farthest reaches of the realm and that there would be a splendid party for all of the guests of heaven. And now you the reader know how we got to the point where the holy demure bride said every so gracelessly, “Fuck”.
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Rose, a skelly possum nun suitRoseRaven@eldritch.cafe
May 30, 2026, 11:48 PM
Lucinda wasn’t sure how to react to her disappointment. She’d expected a heavenly official in gold and finery and Mor was anything but that. Her mind tried to tell her that this was clearly not her escort but there was no doubt in her soul. She could hear the whispers of the trees confirming it, and generally gossiping while sharing pollen. Trees are quite lewd and perverse.
She settled for straightening up and calling for her disciples and servants to come attend to her escort.
“Most Gracious Lady of Heaven, we welcome you into this-”
“I guess you are the task I’ve been assigned?”
“Yes Beneficent Holy one, my name is Lu---”
“Do you have any chicken around? I would kill for some chicken. Or a donkey if chicken isn’t available.”
Lucinda wondered if this was a test, but if it was it was the most basic easy test. Everyone knew that consuming other living creatures was anathema to heaven. It didn’t make sense that her escort would. Her brain screeched to a stop like a water-buffalo hitting an elephant square between its rear cheeks. Was…. Did…
It took a while for her brain to process the paperwork her eyes were sending it. First her brain rejected it as a mistake. Then as an illusion. Then as some cruel joke.
On Mor’s hip hung the corpses of three flamingos and she was picking her teeth with the bones of a fourth.
“Oh. I see you’ve figured out that I’m not exactly in Heaven’s good graces.”
Lucinda didn’t have a response to this at all. She just stared in shock and anger. Yes, anger. Negative emotions aren’t exactly approved of in heaven but anger at the sins of the world was acceptable in the right circumstances.
“Yeah I’m also not pleased. Your place here is a very … well, you can see.” Mor gestured at her whole body, still covered in the swamp.
By this point the disciples and servants had arrived with towels, blankets, a large tub of hot water, scented soaps and scrubbing flowers. But they stood stunned just like the Saint they followed.
“Look, give me a bath, and some food, and I’ll stop offending your precious feelings. Then we can start getting this chore over with.”
To the embarrassment and horror of everyone present, Mor began undressing right there, dropping the muck clothes onto the muddy road, then she wandered over to the tub.
“Unless you want to carry me too you’ll want to put that down.”
The tub was placed hurriedly on the ground.
Mor climbed in and sunk into the tub until only her eyes and the top of her head remained outside of the water.
Lucinda stared at those bright shining blue eyes glowing over the dark water and slowly recited the thousand prayers for patience of Saint Andrew the Educator of Wealthy Scions. Then she recited the seven hundred hopes of Saint Miriam the Builder of Schedules.
“Your excellency, I will be grateful for your kindness in assisting me on this blessed task. I will be understanding of the great stresses you must have suffered falling from such an wonderful height down to our lowly status. May I know the many names by which you are known.”
A series of bubbles rose up in the water and upon popping let out horrible smells. They also let out a single phrase. “You can call me Mor”.
Lucinda bowed, glad at least that one courtesy had not been forgotten.
“Mor, I am Saint Lucinda Marisol Ibarra of the lowest circles.”
Another series of bubbles with stench and sound.
“Yeah, I will call you Lucymar.”
Lucinda straightened and turned and walked away in the exactly beauty and patience of someone who is this close to giving up on heaven and just taking a forked spatula and spelling out their frustrations on someone else's hide.
Mor giggled into the water and closed her eyes, saying to no one and everyone:
“She’s almost fun.”
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