The peace following the defeat of the Void lasted exactly twelve hours.
At 9:00 AM the next morning, Primrose was awakened not by an alarm, nor by an assassination attempt, but by the sound of fabric ripping.
She stumbled into the sitting room to find Ophelia standing in front of a full-length mirror. The ancient fox ancestor was currently wearing one of Primrose's silk court dresses.
Or rather, she was wearing it. She had ripped the sleeves off, torn the skirt to knee-length, and used a curtain sash as a belt.
"This is unacceptable," Ophelia declared, looking at her reflection. "It's too floofy. I feel like a cake decoration. How do you fight in this? How do you run?"
"We don't usually run in court dresses, Grandma," Primrose yawned, leaning against the doorframe. "We walk. Regally."
