Editing Prose Magica: The Ballad of the Seventeenth Part 4

But that was enough brooding for one day, she told herself as she picked up her feet and made her way out of the alley. The rain beat a sad tune on her umbrella as she walked, accompanied by the brass section of traffic just outside the corridor. And faintly - oh so faintly - she could smell the sickly sweet scent of flowers at a funeral.

But that was enough brooding for one day, she told herself as she picked up her feet and made her way out of the alley. The rain beat a sad tune on her umbrella as she walked, accompanied by the brass section of traffic just outside the corridor. And faintly - oh so faintly - she could smell the sickly sweet scent of flowers at a funeral.

Therese stepped up to the podium and cleared her throat. Twenty magical girls watched her with eager eyes. The warmaster tugged at the visor of her cap, let out a deep breath and began speaking.

Therese stepped up to the podium and cleared her throat. Twenty magical girls watched her with eager eyes. The warmaster tugged at the visor of her cap, let out a deep breath and began speaking.

"Some people are just lucky, I guess."

"Some people are just lucky, I guess."

Odette stared into her cup of tea lost and forlorn. Her day had started out terrible and only gone downhill from there. She'd had an argument with someone she hoped to never see again, found no solid evidence at the crime scene, had the fact that she was a nobody shoved in her face and now, to top it all off, the bakery was out of macarons. Maybe she ought to take up some other, more appropriate vice, she thought to herself. What kind of hardened, down-on-her-luck magical girl spends her time writing poetry and eating sweets? When she thought of others like herself, she imagined alcoholics and chain-smokers and people who sounded like they were gargling gravel every time they spoke. At least she had the scowl down.  

Odette stared into her cup of tea lost and forlorn. Her day had started out terrible and only gone downhill from there. She'd had an argument with someone she hoped to never see again, found no solid evidence at the crime scene, had the fact that she was a nobody shoved in her face and now, to top it all off, the bakery was out of macarons. Maybe she ought to take up some other, more appropriate vice, she thought to herself. What kind of hardened, down-on-her-luck magical girl spends her time writing poetry and eating sweets? When she thought of others like herself, she imagined alcoholics and chain-smokers and people who sounded like they were gargling gravel every time they spoke. At least she had the scowl down.  

There went her afternoon, she thought. Maybe she'd hop in Sleepy Sue and just drive until the sun went down. She'd done it before - simply drove and drove until she fell asleep. More than once she'd blacked out on the rode and woke up on a certain American warmaster's couch. How she'd managed to get from Toronto to Santa Destroy in the span of a night had always been a mystery.

There went her afternoon, she thought. Maybe she'd hop in Sleepy Sue and just drive until the sun went down. She'd done it before - simply drove and drove until she fell asleep. More than once she'd blacked out on the rode and woke up on a certain American warmaster's couch. How she'd managed to get from Toronto to Santa Destroy in the span of a night had always been a mystery.

It was nearing midnight when Odette finally arrived at her apartment. It was a grey and dingy old building on the edge of downtown; it was the kind of easy-built cookie-cutter structure that seemed to spring up by the dozen as the city crept outwards. Despite having only lived there for two months - and probably only spending half as many nights there - it still managed to feel like home.  

It was nearing midnight when Odette finally arrived at her apartment. It was a grey and dingy old building on the edge of downtown; it was the kind of easy-built cookie-cutter structure that seemed to spring up by the dozen as the city crept outwards. Despite having only lived there for two months - and probably only spending half as many nights there - it still managed to feel like home.