#the evil sorceress / margolette

[unbeleveable]

@wickedlywonderful liked for a morrible starter

Margolette was waiting for Oscar in his rooms when he came back from his latest venture into the City. "Did you enjoy your little walk among your people?" She asked casually from where she lounged in a chair, glancing up from the book she had been leafing through. She had never kept her disapproval of these outings a secret, worried that he might somehow reveal himself, ruining the powerful facade they had created together.

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❝  i’ve  been  practicing  what  you  taught  me.  i  feel  in  control.  ❞

— Agatha to Mama Morrible, if you want 👉🏻👈🏻

"Good."

Agatha's father hadn't been an untalented sorcerer himself-otherwise Margolette never would have bothered with him in the first place-but he had been afraid. Afraid to extend himself to his fullest potential and to wield real power. Margolette didn't want that for her daughter, and her schooling had thus begun long before she ever officially enrolled in Shiz. She would see Agatha to the cusp of greatness and one day, one day, all the effort she had put into making someone of the girl would prove worthwhile.

It not proving so wasnot even an option.

"Show me."

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"A woman of incomparable elegance and discernment"- loving that.

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Look away, I'm changing all of my main muse tags.

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@wickedlywonderful gets a quickie from morrible

"After the day we've had," Margolette drawled, pouring the brandy into Oscar's glass as well as her own, "we could both use this." The lights hadn't come back on in the Emerald City yet, but she had been able to use the moonlight to find her way to the bottle.

[unbeleveable]

🍸 - Farah is an Old Fashioned, Rhaenys is a Cosmopolitan, and Morrible is a Whisky Sour

🍸If my muse was a cocktail, what would they be?

Not wrong on any of the three counts!

[unbeleveable]

@reverentlit sent: “All or nothing. In dreams as in life.” (for Margolette from Oscar)

A rarely genuine smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as dark, slanted eyes glittered in the light. "You do have a way of making it all sound possible," Margolette conceded after the young man from the land of Nebraska shared his latest plans for Oz. On the face of things, Oscar was a fool, but beneath that foolishness was a visionary and she couldn't help but admire him for it. "Despite the absurd levels of grandeur you're painting, I believe we can get it done."

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 "It's hot when you talk back." (Lmao sorry morrible Oscar is flirty)

"Good," Margolette replied, reaching up to smooth back his gray hair. "Because I'm going to keep on doing it."

Out of everyone in Oz, only she knew Oscar, behind all the pizzaz that he was so good at, was just an ordinary man. It had always given her a certain leverage over him, but she didn't generally have to use it. The Wizard was amiable towards her ideas-dependent on them, really-and they didn't often quarrel. Rather, their shared conspiracy had caused them to grow close, allowing for flirtatious moments like this.

[unbeleveable]

It doesn't escape Margolette, the way his gaze rakes over her, and she smirks as she straightens up. Oscar is a flirt-has been since the day he was born, she truly believes-and even a bit lecherous, but she doesn't hold it against him. They've had fun in the past, but it wasn't pleasure that brought her here.

"Shiz is closed for break," she says by way of explaining her presence, setting the book aside, "so I thought I would come and see how our plans are coming together." He had shared his cage design with her some months ago and they are supposed to be in mass production. "We're going to need something to hold the old Goat sooner rather than later. Along with his seditious little friends."

The Emerald Palace is a maze of rooms and corridors, stairways and arches and landings, all in the same dazzling art deco green and gold. It was purpose-built this way on orders of the former royalty who ruled here, though now it exists as a near-empty labyrinth in the heart of the Emerald City. No one knows more about the ins and outs of Oz’s capitol palace than Oscar himself…though, if he had to guess, Margolette would be second on that list. It should be more upsetting that she knows exactly where his favorite rooms are, can get into them even when he’s absent, but it isn’t. She’s the other side of his coin, the tail to his head, it only makes sense that she would know where to find him.

Or at least where to find his things, and eventually later him.

“Lettie, sweetheart, whatta—what an unexpected surprise!” His smile is rakish in every sense of the word, his eyes slow to move up the rest of her lounging form from her legs. “—Ah. Yeah, yes, it was, y’know. Like it always is. Good, happy. Green. It’s really so, so important to keep a finger on the pulse of things here.” His idea of a finger on the pulse is more like a hand on the throat: a little more dangerous, a little more intimate, but no less effective if you know what you’re doing. Oscar certainly likes to think he does.