Q is for Quartz

You treacherous scribbler! Combining Q is for Quartz with Secondary Characters Speak Out is underhanded! Hmmph! Well I suppose you are busy, writing about other characters than myself. Again. You’d better get back to that book about stones once April is over…I want you at least a little more knowledgable on the subject when you write my story. Hmph!

Fine. This time, I’m interviewing myself for my monthly blog. Me!

You want to know what my goal is? For the scribbler to finish *my* story. For her to improve her education on the rich and fascinating subject of rocks and stones, which are not necessarily the same thing. Not always. This information should make her do a better job and give me a little more power other than turning into simply the reluctant bride of some crazy sprite who gets trapped in a coffin. 

Above all, I want not to be dead. To give all those secondary characters out there a voice. Except for Oriana, that no good ladyfriend of my poor Fairest. Nimmie Not shouldn’t have one either. 

Who’s Nimmie Not? I really wish I wasn’t going to find out. It’s a measure of how cruel and capricious the scribbler is that in giving me a story, she also gave him one. 

Huh, these have more been my goals as a blogger and breaker of fourth walls. As a character, well, I wanted to find a home. Some measure of peace from the interracial conflict between the dwarves, goblins, and kobolds in the mountains more rich in precious metals. Hmph, some of those creatures are calling themselves gnomes now. Trying to look like dwarves, hanging around in gardens, pretending they’re all friendly and cute. Hah! I haven’t forgiven them for the pranks they played on poor Garnet. More fool me for making a bargain with one of these creatures, even when the advantage appeared to be mine. It never is. It seemed like the best way to deal with Nimmie Not at the time. Now my brothers are stuck in a cottage which almost feels like a part of Nimmie Not, especially that blasted cuckoo clock. I wanted to throw it out, but Opal actually likes it, the fool. Ah, well, the cottage seemed sanctuary enough for my brothers. It was a haven for our little princess, too, when she came to live with us. 

Only something went terribly wrong. Fairest’s former love caught up with her. Tricked her into taking a bite of that cursed apple. For almost a century, our lass slept in the crystal coffin I wrought with my ability to shape quartz. I’d finally figured out a way to wake her up, only it cost me. Yes, there was more to my falling down, seemingly dead like that. 

This is what I get for listening to Nimmie Not’s advice. You’ll be able to read the whole story once the scribbler finishes Of Cuckoo Clocks and Crystal Coffins. Gah, is that the best she can do for a title?