Making Up Monsters writing prompt — Monster who did it. In the library, with the candelabra
“I was in the library,” Softwick says sheepishly. The mothgirl, forehands crooked in front of her defensively, rubs them against each other in a self-soothing, stimmy sort of way. “There were…candles.”
Nurse Practitioner Frankenstein makes a noise that’s professionally devoid of judgement. Castro Sanctum is a safe place for monsters, as much as one exists; but the standards of “safety” within the ancient, sturdy walls atop its wolf-haunted slopes decidedly haven’t caught up with, say, modern fire standards. It’s plausible.
(It’s not, she’s sure, actually true.)
“Well,” Frankenstein says, carefully trimming another patch of scorched moth-fur with her safety scissors, then slathering burn ointment on the reddened skin beneath, “you really ought to be more careful.”
“Yes ma’am,” Softwick says, bobbing her face down to better hide her blushiness behind her restless hands.
“You need something for those bruises?”
“What bruises?” The mothgirl says, eyes widening, then blushes harder as Frankenstein raises a pointed eyebrow at the slowly purpling lines spiralled around her wrists. “Um. Um!”
Across the room, the spidergirl who came in with her pretends to be very interested in a wall poster about hypertension.
“Incidentally,” Frankenstein says, “soy candles have a lower, skin safer melting point to beeswax.”
“Um.”
“Just a fun fact for you.” Frankenstein gives her a stern look. “Now that should be fine, no serious harm done, come back if it doesn’t sort itself out. And be careful!”
“Yes ma’am!”
