Claimer: I do hereby claim all rights and responsibility for the characters in this series of vignettes because the Amaranthine Saga is mine. (Which means I should probably behave myself since anything I say or do could be taken as canon.) Indulge the lot of us, especially the one with good memories.
Chapter Eighty-Six: Dragging Feet
Jacques cherished—even hallowed—his first impression of Argent. He didn’t want to redefine something that had defined him. But the Argent who awaited wasn’t the formidably formal creature with an icy hauteur who’d served tasty tidbits and subtle insults at teatime.
The fox sat among the flowers, surrounded by swaying tails and a flock of… not butterflies. Jacques tried to track one’s flight path. Were those wings or fins?
“Jackie.” Argent crooked his fingers. “They are quite tame.”
Jacques stalled. But then he registered Argent’s silken, silver-trimmed finery.
“Argent!” Outrage warbled through his boyish falsetto. “Mon dieu. Your pants!”
Posted: October 25, 2019
Prompt: #Inktober2019, Day Twenty-Five: Tasty
Summary: Jacques Smythe brazens his way into Stately House and shows no sign of departing. Like it or not, Lord Mettlebright has himself a butler. An Amaranthine Saga Serial. [Humor, Drama, Family] Begins here. You can suggest a prompt here. To scroll through archived chapters, use the Lord Mettlebright’s Man tag.