Mary Christof, Queen of Hearts

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Get Out Of My Head/St. Trinian's

Suddenly, and without warning, I had spoken out, strong and loud and surprisingly Gaelic. “Tha e air gach còir eagal thu!

“Itane? Cur meae cerasis flores?” She blinked, not so much annoyed but saddened by my sudden outward defiance. It made me want to puke or even gasp for air as I spat.

"Quia per ignorantiam fecistis timetis nomen Virginis vidistis me et magnificabo nomen thalamis flevit nocte - mus ephippium et factus sum sicut paranoid circa caseum censes acerba credo DE IURE istum re quid agere, eumque huic eosdem cruciatus retraheretur?!

Silence. I was butt naked still, glowing like a radioactive Russian doll and clutching a crucifix like it was the last thing on planet...oh, wait, Earth doesn't exist anymore, waiting like an animal covered in dirt from lack of circulation. Yep, this was my lowest, and considering I couldn't go any lower, I was stuck.
"Hail...Mary...full of grace...hallowed be thy name...thy kingdom come, thy will be done...on Earth as it is in heaven...give us this day our daily bread and lead us not unto temptation...but, so, and/or, deliver us from evil, amen.
Can I please call the Ghostbusters? Or, the holy equivalent of the busters? I'm about to give up and do my own investigating with a beer can and one of your portraits if I can't muster up the strength for anything else--pushy, pushy, pushy...I don't want you out of my head..."
Quickly, I had sucked down the tea before racing back to my bedroom, blushing like a madwoman as I shone like a misshapen lantern. "What the hell do I want? This is all nice, but is it real or not? May I deal with him, please? And can we please cut the Latin? NOBODY ELSE BUT ME GETS IT! ENOUGH WITH THAT!"
I was about to snap. Like a twig, frankly, and as I attempted to pinch myself and mentally torture myself for the express schizophrenic temporary removal of--whatever it was, superpowers, let's go with that, and settle back down into my depressing hell--then turning off the light and heading straight back into the bathroom to clear out the tea and turn off the water, my head and eyes feeling rather sluggish as she relinquished control over her body, I sleepily groaned, "Damn it...Ierie! You wanna sleep over or what?"

No response. He must have settled in...which was good, for I had suddenly felt an urge of a peculiar sort after the Virgin took her leave. It felt...not even empty, really. More watchful, as if she had never left me. My heart was still in her keeping, though--and as a sudden flush crept and stuck itself upon my cheeks that night, the coloration being of a girlish pink, my stress levels had dipped considerably as I dropped something into the boiling water pot and looked up at the sky (and just to be sure, swiftly below) exclaiming before climbing into bed,

"It's a calming philter. Made of mint and vanilla mixed with some tea leaves. You really think I would stop being interested in the practice because your pretty face lured me in? Well, you're right, but I couldn't resist, especially after our little spat today, which again I have to say I have never been so, it's for both of us, really. If you want it. I'm..."
I suddenly looked down below again, "...not sorry to you, you wicked impostor--but I am sorry to you, Mama. Truly."

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