Welcome to Gaia! ::

The northernmost room on the third story of Manor Neidlich was filled with a sweet and upbeat song, gentle and cheerful, much like everything else in the room. Deep shelves were on every wall with the exception of the backmost, which was almost entirely composed of windows, their curtains drawn back to let the sunshine in. On the shelves were every sort of stuffed animal or doll, all colorful and cute, though most with rough parts, obviously patched together. There were dolls that stood still, ones that sipped at imaginary tea with each other, and ones that sought out dance partners and twirled around on the wooden dance stage the shelf floor provided.

A large rug was at the center of the room, covering a large portion of the hardwood floor, a pure white that must have been very difficult to keep clean. Though it was impossible to tell exactly what the state the rug was in, as it was also covered in things, concentrated in the center. In the very middle sat Mitzi Wulf with her legs folded underneath her, and like ripples in a pond all manner of parts were scattered around her.

Despite the cutesy brown dress she wore, the way her hair was curled tightly and was kept up by ribbons, and the delicate knitted white stockings that covered her legs, she sat working with wires and circuitry. A wooden desk was hovering over her knees, the parts for a half-finished baby doll spread over it.

Mitzi looked, from the way she dressed, like she was fifteen. Mitzi Wulf was, in fact, twenty-seven, and far too old to dress like a child. This did not stop the eccentric woman, and no one else made moves to, considering the unbelievable success the woman enjoys with an equally child-like profession as a toy maker. The woman’s head bobbed in time with the music, cream curled hair bouncing along, and a smile on pink-painted lips, slender fingers working diligently with her tiny tools, occasionally pausing to jot notes onto a small silver pad with the tip of her finger.

All the moving dolls stopped their dancing and tea parties when the music cut out with a cheerful chime, to which Mitzi sighed, clearing the back panel of the baby doll off of a small gold disc resting on her desk. She tapped it, and a projection of a sever-faced man in a black suit appeared.

She spoke before he had the chance.

“Fredrik, tell Summers that I already told him the plans for the new doll won’t be done until Friday.” Mitzi’s voice was whiny and a little too high-pitched for someone her age.

“It is not Mister Summers, ma’am.”

The woman paused at that, mouth open in preparation to tell her excuse of the day that she had lined up for when her incessant manager bothered her about her current project.

“Oh? Who is it?”

“I’m not rightly sure, ma’am.” His old face looked pained, which is normally fairly hard to tell since he generally looks that way.

“I’ll be down in a moment.”

The woman pushed the desk back, the floating wood platform sliding easily through the air, before standing. She straightened her dress, cut at the knees, and snapped her fingers.

“Clean up.”

The dolls that could move situated themselves back to their proper places on the shelves, shutting down. The rug seemed to devour the parts scattered on it, but as the door clicked shut behind Mitzi, a metal box popped up through the floor at the corner of the room.

Self-cleaning floor.

Best invention ever.

-=-

Manor Neidlich very much reflects its mistress. The grand façade of the front, complete with Corinthian columns and intricate molding, is but just a taste of the classic architecture themes of the inside with a distinctly cutesy tone. Fredrik almost looked out of place against all of the creams and pinks and light blues in his black suit, standing next to the opened door.

What stood in the doorway was not even remotely close to anything Mitzi could have expected. Her eyes didn’t leave the tiny figure as she waved Fredrik off, thanking him. She walked up to her visitor, crouching down to reach his eyelevel, but before she could speak he thrust out a letter. Mitzi raised an eyebrow at the strange child, but politely opened the letter first and read it:

Dear Mitzi Wulf,

I know this is probably a bit too much to ask of you without any sort of warning, but I am currently out of town on a bit of a business venture and I cannot take this precious Prince with me. Surely by now you’ve heard of the Princelings being produced at Rheinfels and can recognize by his amphibious traits that he is, in fact, one of them. You’ve been chosen to watch over him for today while I am away, so please take good care of him for me. If I return to find him in a pleasant condition, you may even be considered for ownership of a Prince of your own. This means you must ensure that he is kept hydrated, fed and most importantly HAPPY.

Sincerely, Madam Adelle X.

P.S. If he starts to act up, tell him he's going to get warts like Tibalt. It should get him to settle down.

One of the Frog Princes?

Mitzi looked at the boy, head tilting. She had discarded her invitation to the dinner- frogs, even if they become princes, were not of any interest to her.

Now, as she looked at his smiling face, absolutely adorable blue outfit, and delicate features Mitzi knew she had to re-evaluate the Princes.

She held a hand out to the boy, “Hello, my name is Mitzi Wulf.”

The frog boy barely paused before offering his hand as well, shaking Mitzi’s. The woman was fascinated by the delicate webbing between his fingers and the texture of his skin, smooth, almost wet but not slimy.

“I am Brodi.”

Mitzi stood, releasing his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, please, come in.”

From the moment that the frog prince stepped foot into her manor Mitzi was thoroughly charmed by him and his happy disposition. She took him immediately to the second floor, ignoring the disdain radiating through Fredrik as he followed along and a respectful distance, ordering silently for the service bots to clean up the prints left by the bare prince’s feet.

The curving stairs led to a central hallway, Mitzi heading straight to the room at the very end. She opened wide double-doors, letting the prince into a room very similar to her workshop.

All manners of toys were displayed, colorful toy soldiers the size of children, stuffed animals that looked up, raising their fluffy arms to greet them, a rocking horse that whinnied, tossing it’s wooden head. The carpet was white and plush, perfect for sitting on, and the window curtains were thrown open.

Mitzi loved children, she loved making toys, and more than anything else she loved to watch children play with the toys she made- their innocent wonder and laughter and happy faces.

The German woman sat down on the carpet, legs tucked beside her, one hand waving to the room around them.

“Would you like to play?”

-=-

Mitzi was not entirely sure how much time had passed while they were in the toy room, only ever breaking away from watching him to have a platter of various snacks brought up for the child. To her delight Brodi seemed to be naturally curious, and she enjoyed watching him go through her shelves one by one and examine each toy.

He was almost exactly like a real child. The way he moved wasn’t as ungainly as she would have thought- of course not graceful like an adult, but just as advanced as any child’s motor skills would be of the same age that he looked. Of the same age… Brodi can’t be over a year old, but look how old he seems! So intelligent.

Mitzi smiled, arms crossed over a floating table, her chin on her arms as she watched him. Toys once neatly put away now laid scattered as Brodi made his way through them, and Mitzi did not mind, though he didn’t seem to have attached himself to a particular toy. He paused for a moment, though, holding a teddy-bear that was chirping at him in a colorful and cute made-up bear language.

Maybe he would like that one?

Though… he wasn’t exactly staring at it, more like past it. The frog prince shook his head slightly before setting it down and shifting down the row, a small toy Scottie dog following, snuffling at his heels.

Mitzi’s peace was broken when a familiar chime picked up, pausing the classical music playing in the background. The woman sighed, standing up, but smiled when Brodi looked over to her.

“I’ll be right back.”

The woman left Brodi in the room, no child had gotten himself or herself into trouble there before, she did not think it would happen to a frog prince either, stepping outside the doors to take the message.

She held the golden disk up, Fredrik appearing again.

“Tell Summers that I do not have time for his prying today.” Mitzi informed her well-meaning butler, but for the second time that day he contradicted her.

“It is not Mister Summers, ma’am.” He replied, dour as ever.

Mitzi bit her lip. Was it the mysterious Madam X already? She didn’t want to let Brodi go yet, not when he had yet to finish going through the toys in the room.

“Is it Madame X?”

“No ma’am. It is Sir Demidov.”

At his words Mitzi’s face dropped, looking for once very close to her actual age, and one hand reached behind her, closing the door to the toy room.

“I’ll… be right down. Please have the staff return to their rooms.”

“Yes ma’am.”

-=-

When Mitzi descended the stairs only Demidov was there, standing at her door. The man was dour, much like her butler, but unlike Fredrik instead of an undercurrent of affection all Demiov had room for was intimidation. Intimidation and anger. At the bottom of the stairs she curtsied to him, and he returned the gesture with a nod, taking his hat off.

“Still dressing like a child, Miss Wulf.” It wasn’t a question. Men like Demidov didn’t ask questions, he stated fact, even if there was no proof.

Mitzi smiled hesitantly and didn’t quite meet his eyes, just turning away to lead the man. At the blank space of wall between her two curving staircases she pressed her hand, and a small flashing light zipped across the surface, outlining a rectangle. There was a brief pause before the wall within the rectangle receded, opening up to a hallway on a decline. Mitzi entered, followed by the much larger man.

It wasn’t until the passage closed back up again behind Demidov that Mitzi spoke.

“The ocular cameras are ready for animal testing.”

“You know we don’t do animal testing, Mitzi.” Demidov had always spoken more familiarly when behind closed doors. Closed doors and a few inches of steel.

Mitzi stopped only to press her hand against another blank wall that abruptly cut off the hallway. This time she had to lean forward as well, unseen sensors checking her eyes as a pass code.

“You should.” She sighed, leading him into a workroom very much opposite to the one on the third floor. The walls were metallic and sterile, everything as sharp and organized as a surgical room and about half as friendly.

It is, in fact, impossible for Mitzi to have made her fortune from toys. A younger, weaker Mitzi at the age of twenty had made a series of devices under contract from the government. As brilliant as an inventor as she was, she had no power to turn down their offer, and subsequently a new life was breathed into the art of subterfuge and spying through the creations of Mitzi Wulf, or codenamed by the government, Designer Angerona.

The man had no reservations about moving around her hidden workroom, looking through the tools and files at his own whims.

“What about the listening devices?” He asked, his voice too sharp to be simply casually curious.

“I already told you Sir Demidov, it’s going to be a while before I can put together a bug that small.” Even in browns Mitzi was too colorful for her own workroom, sticking out with her frills and curls, and of this she was aware, unreasonably making her feel all the more nervous.

The man sighed, fingers tapping against a smooth metal table, “How many times must I ask this? Please, Mitzi, call me Borya.” His voice rumbled, too loud for the small room, a sort of twisted parody of a smile on his face. Borya turned his head, looking over to the diminutive German woman, he regarded her with his cold gray eyes, and the longer he stared the more that Mitzi’s fingers twitched.

“Mitzi, you are very talented. Why do you think we approached you when you were so young, eh? And yet you cannot do what we offer.” Borya turned towards her, placing his hat on the table before large arms crossing over a large chest.

“Sir Demidov, if the technology doesn’t exist, there is nothing I can do. I don’t invent the concepts, I alter existing ones.” Mitzi stepped back, half-sitting on a table behind her. Dealing with Demidov took a lot out of her, and the last she needed was for him to know that.

“Yes yes, you make them smaller. Smarter, easier to conceal.” Borya waved his hand in the air, and then abruptly picked his fedora back up, stuffing it over his slicked brown hair again. “Very well. I’ll take the ocular camera. Next week you’ll be receiving two of the five stealth watches back, they are malfunctioning again.”

“They are very delicate. If the masks are forcibly broken the feedback into the crystals is too much, have you told your agents this yet?” Mitzi replied, though keeping her head down as she did so, moving to pick up a small metallic briefcase. The watches were one of her first inventions made for the government, and the most often to break.

“Classified, my dear.” Borya smiled, taking the case from Mitzi. “If you cannot work on the listening devices, maybe see if you can make the stealth watches sturdier, yes?” He chuckled, heading for the door. They opened for him the same as they did for Mitzi, and as soon as the door closed behind him the woman sagged.

Mitzi took a shaky breath, hand lifting to press against her temple, eyes closed against the harsh workroom light.

Working with the government was difficult. Lying to them was harder. She kept failsafes in all of her devices, allowing herself to be the only one to work on them. She told Demidov it was to keep enemy hands from being able to take them apart to replicate them, but that was an unintended effect that a young Mitzi hadn’t even thought of when she had put together her fist batch of technological promises.

If you wanted to stay alive, you kept yourself useful. Her father taught her that. If she was the only one to fix something, then she was better off alive instead of dead and unable to be captured for her secrets.

Goddess Angerona, goddess of secrets.

She chuckled, voice strained.

-=-

Mitzi afforded herself a moment to compose herself, emerging from her hidden room before contacting Fredrik that the staff is allowed to go back to their chores. Funny, that she should use such a device to contact a person in her own home, a person who was just down the hall waiting dutifully in his room.

For a moment she considered going to the older man herself, to talk to him about Demidov, he and David Summers were there only ones to know of her secret, but the woman sighed and shook her head.

Brodi was waiting for her. Watching him would cheer her up.

Making sure to put a smile on her face before throwing the doors open, she was unsurprised to find him continuing his methodical search through the shelves The boy was standing on a large faux-wooden block, the letters on the side morphing through the alphabet as a soft voice, distinctly Mitzi’s, stated what each letter was.

“Brodi?”

The frog boy paused, hand on a toy bird that was changing color as it sang, and looked over his shoulder. Mitzi could only smile as his face colored, the boy half-jumping off of the block. His voice was quiet as he replied, barely louder than the bird in his hands, “Sorry…”

Mitzi lifted her hand, “The block is able to take three hundred pounds of pressure before it starts breaking. I doubt you weigh that much.” Despite her words he didn’t climb back onto the block, instead placing the bird on the closest shelf.

The woman was almost back to her spot in the middle of the room before she realized something was off, and turning she saw the boy halfway to her, shifting on his feet.

“What is it?”

“I’m a little dry…”

It never ceased to amaze Mitzi how quickly young minds got over embarrassment.

-=-

Through the convenience of vocal commands the opulent bathtub was already full as the pair arrived, and to her surprise Brodi pulled away from her and got into the water clothes and all.

“I’m sorry.” Mitzi said, sitting down on the edge of the tub.

He shifted, floating in the water, crossing his legs effortlessly despite his long feet. “For what?”

“For leaving you alone. Someone stopped by, it wasn’t important.” Mitzi explained, but the boy just smiled like it did not bother him, and chances are it really didn’t.

The frog boy seemed to enjoy the giant bathtub as much as he did the toys, twisting his body around in the warm water and prodding the small selection of rubber bath toys lined up against the wall.

“Did you like the toys in the room?” Mitzi finally asked, and to her surprise he didn’t just announce that he did, or even that he didn’t.

He simply floated in the water for a long moment, a rubber ducky in his webbed fingers, and finally he looked up, a sort of curious determination on his face.

“Yes. But… you didn’t have any frog toys.”

He was right, of course. She had human dolls. She had cats and dogs and rabbits, rocking horses and toy soldiers, lions, giraffes, deer, and bears. She had herds of sheep and flocks of birds, she had toys that taught how to dance and toys that acted like a real baby.

Mitzi had not invented one toy that in any way, shape, or form had anything to do with frogs.

“I’ll make one.” She promised, tilting her head, “Would you like that?”

His bright smile and the eagerness of his “Yes!” made her determined, even if she never had a prince of her own, that she was going to make toys just for them, Demidov and his spies and Summers and his deadlines be damned.

A smooth projection from the jambs of the door displayed a bust of a young woman with curled blonde hair,

“We are on our way to greet you, one moment please.” The projection smiled brightly and tilted her head in a manner that was almost in the uncanny valley, and definitely too over-the-top friendly. With a gentle hum the projection disappeared, and one of the wooden doors opened to a greeter the complete opposite of the artificial welcomer.

An old man stood there, eyes half-closed with sagging wrinkles, mouth set in a dour line as he politely bowed. His suit was as clean as he appeared stuffy, and the notion of being displeased with everything was etched into every line on his face.

“Hello ma’am. Whom shall I say is calling?” He asked, voice surprisingly clear, though it was unnecessary as a pair of figures came down the stairs.

“Fredrik?”

Mitzi had thought she heard the doorbell.

Her hand held the boy’s as they walked down, Brodi still wet from the impromptu bath and leaving tracks, much to the displeasure of her butler who turned to greet her. At the bottom of the stairs Mitzi was able to see the guest, a woman, and it was easy for her to assume who it was.

“Madam Adelle X, I presume?”

With the butler stepped out of the doorway the entrance to Manor Neidlich opened up. The interior was subtly elaborate, from the finest precision moldings crowned the room, their carvings able to change shape with a vocal command, to the plush exotic carpets that covered self-cleaning hardwood floors. The furnishings were classic-styled, though hardly antique, as the only things in the Manor that didn’t have some sort of gadgetry worked into it would be the artwork- and Mitzi loved art. The most prominent display of such was a marble statue in the middle of the foyer of one child jumping over the back of another.

It’s didn’t cross Mitzi’s mind that she probably looked as doll-like as the rest of her home. Treatments kept her looking young, though it was impossible to hide the loss of childish roundness in her face, stripped from her during the war along with the rest of her childhood. The overcompensation for it in the way she dressed was obvious, with her frills and pastels and lace, and she looked the part of the princess of her palace.

Fredrik bowed and backed away as Mitzi approached Madame X, taking her glove off to shake hands.

“He was a pleasure, I assure you.”

The woman before her was easy to imagine being the mysterious Madame X, though the sense of mysteriousness had faded when she saw that shining smile for her prince. Mitzi liked the sight of Adelle so far; she had smart eyes, and so Mitzi gave the woman a warm, genuine smile in return.

“I’m happy to meet you. Please, come in, we can have coffee on the porch. Or would you prefer tea?” She offered, opening one arm up to gesture past the staircases.

Silently Fredrik bobbed his head and turned, making his exit.

Along the floor a stripe in a pleasant shade of light blue appeared, bright enough to shine through the rugs, pulsing in a slow rhythm to direct towards the porch.

They passed through the gallery, which lived up to it’s name, filled with paintings and statues, an almost-transparent material covering each one, shimmering when light hit it just right. Almost all of the art was of children, children playing and children sleeping and children generally doing child-like things, and the ones that weren’t were of beautiful women in graceful dresses. Mitzi seemed particularly fond of impressionist paintings, though her preference of sculpture was much more Roman, with ideal-figured white-marble statues.

A small hallway connected them to the entertainment room, which immediately was brought to life without so much as a hum upon their entrance. A large, flat white surface rolled down from the ceiling, next to it a slim section of wall opened like a drawer, sleek watching-glasses lifting in a display. What could only be called a couch was in the middle of the room, though it was also like a bed, the seating area extended out to allow for a full-grown man to lie down on if he so wished. Red in color, it changed from it’s previous settings from when last used, the extra length of the couch retracting into the floor. Several touch pads illuminated themselves on the walls, displaying lists of movies, television shows, games that could be played. Lists of music, lists of physical games that could be brought out like hover hockey, and lists of drinks that could be provided.

It was indeed a well-stocked entertainment room.

Mitzi, however, all but ignored the little gadgets vying for their attention, turning to the left and heading to the porch. It was small, only a fourth the size of the entertainment room, and relatively bare compared to it. There were a few chairs at the back wall, but the main method of seating were large embroidered pillows so casually and elegantly spread across the plush-carpeted floor that it could be nothing else but done intentionally. A low table was in the middle of the room, a few digital magazine tablets spread across it, and it was in front of this that Mitzi sat down.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.”

With the exception of the back wall and door, the porch walls were completely made of what appeared to be glass. Saltaire was a depressing place though, and not good for light conversation, so Mitzi turned her head slightly and ran her finger along the edge of the surface of the table.

There was a soft beep, to which Mitzi said, "Spring, please. Irish countryside. Sunny, but not too bright." Instantly the windows changed their display, beautiful green hills stretching out before them with a brook running through it. It was too pretty and ideal to be current Ireland.

“Please, do.” Mitzi replied to the first question, but at the second she paused. She had, after all, declined their invitation for the event, the little teaser line scrawled out in fancy script on the paper had not hooked her, and when she learned about the frogs she didn’t have any interest at all for the project.

Her eyes slid, watching Brodi as the changing windows entranced him. What did she think now?

There was no outward indication of the realization that Mitzi wanted one. Not like a dog or a bird or any other pet, but as a child. She never had marriage as a possibility, and so for her children were naturally out of the equation. A pet though? Borya wouldn’t be able to find anything wrong with that. He wasn’t a cruel man, per say, just strict.

Mitzi looked back to Adelle and weighed her options on how to proceed.

A businessman would say they were excited for the idea from the beginning, which would have the highest chance of success logically.

Unfortunately Mitzi was not known for her business skills, she had no use for developing them when everyone else was doing her business for her, so the business option was both one she had no confidence in and was as well unappealing, for lying was a horrible way to start a relationship.

The door opened before Mitzi could speak, a maid politely bobbing her head before easily making her way around the room despite no view of her own feet from the large silver tray in her hands. The maid set the tray down and bowed shortly, “Fredrik also had coca made.” She said, one white-gloved hand gesturing to the third pot, a slender bit of fancy silverwork.

“Thank you, Anna.”

“You are welcome, ma’am.” The maid replied, bowing again at the door before shutting it.

Three pots were on the tray, one china and the other two silver. Mitzi ran her finger along the edge of the delicately painted pot, a several hidden buttons illuminating themselves. “Fredrik prepared quite a few.” Mitzi turned the pot towards Adelle, “Please, pick what you would like.”

Her own pot, the coffee pot was from the same set as the coca, smaller and rounder on the bottom, but it had the same carve work. Running her finger down the side illuminated a panel where she selected cream and sugar, the pot mixing the ingredients as she poured her own drink.

“Is Brodi allowed to have chocolate?” Mitzi asked, picking up the coca pot before pausing. She set it back down as she looked over at the boy himself again.

“I am sorry, I haven’t answered your question yet.” Despite all her delayed time to think she still didn’t have a good answer, “At first, no.” The woman replied, before lifting the coca pot again, one slender finger setting the temperature of the drink before pouring it. “I don’t want for much,” if that much wasn’t already obvious from her house, “and after I learned about the, ah, f-r-o-g-s I didn’t care for it even further.”

Mitzi frowned, one curled finger tapping her chin before she finally looked back up at Adelle, “It’s different now, after meeting Brodi.” her frown dropped, “I hope you will believe me when I say I am very much interested.”

Mitzi looked over to Brodi as he spoke, asking her to thank Fredrik for him, though it was Adelle’s question that she was contemplating.

What did she think of them?

Purely esthetically they could almost fall into the uncanny valley, with their almost-human proportions and almost-human faces. The way they moved kept them from being creepy. They were like children, small and jittery and very excited about normally quite mundane things. Having spent so much time with Brodi it was becoming hard for her to draw the line between pet and child, and maybe that is where these Princes were supposed to be? They are the gray element, creating itself between the black and white. These were obviously not the tiny lapdogs of years past, pampered and clothed. The princes spoke. They had unique thoughts. So human, and yet not at the same time... They could, in essence, never be human. Mitzi knew this, but how could you treat a Prince any differently than a child of the same age looks?

Mitzi paused, fingers running along the table as she changed the settings. With a gentle fade they were now on an English countryside, shaded by trees and looking out over a river, lazily flowing. The gentler mood fit her better. The woman’s hand lifted, curled finger resting on her chin for a moment.

The answer eluded her. How could you not want to show them love? Read them stories and tuck them into bed? Play with them like children. Teach them like children.

Yet, they would never be children.

“I think they are a singularly unique experience, something that has obviously never happened before and indeed will probably never happen again. I think that they require more money than a pet, more maintenance than a child, and more contacts to acquire one than both combined. I think that they are adorable, intelligent, and fascinating.” She looked to Adelle, smiling.

“I also know that I do sincerely want one.”

The woman looked down in a demure act, trying to counteract how forward she just sounded.

“You would think in a profession like mine I would have children of my own. Instead I have surrounded myself with the children of others, and before now I never thought I really wanted to have one of my own. I can still say I do not, but a Prince? It feels like a different matter entirely… yet so very similar.”

Despite her childlike appearance Mitzi did not giggle or jump in excitement, or say anything at all for that matter. As Adelle spoke to her she instead became very still, very stiff, wide green eyes watching the other woman very carefully before dropping down to stare at the woman’s outstretched hand.

Mitzi had never wanted anything so much. She should have felt ashamed, looking down at the little violet pin with wanting eyes, but the guilt did not bubble up. It was not a greed to possess, but one to care for. Mitzi had heard old women’s chatter before, that there would be a time every woman’s life where she would want to have children, to be a mother. Mitzi realized this- that she wholly wanted this Prince as a child.

So that was the answer to her question.

The Prince would not be a pet, instead a child, not from any genetics or intelligence reason, but because she would treat him as such.

Mitzi swallowed. What did that little bit of jewelry have to do with the Princes though? Maybe it let you redeem one?

One hand lifted, fingers tilting like they would want to reach out for the pin, instead falling to her lap. Mitzi looked back up to Madame X’s face, eyes searching for any sign of dishonesty and finding none. The German woman could not help herself; a smile broke out on her face, wider than what would traditionally be considered lovely, but utterly genuine.

“Yes. Yes I would.” Her eyes flicked down to the pin again, and she paused. “Though I doubt such a wonderful thing would come for free.” Mitzi looked up to Adelle again, “Then what can I offer you? I make toys, but I’m not sure that would be a good enough compensation.” She owned no animals to offer, and there was no way she could really give her money, the government’s money, away. Then, as she watched Adelle, an idea struck her, “I happen to have friends in the contracting and construction business. I could, very easily, have a building made on this property… or perhaps one of the garages renovated, into a playplace- a daycare if you will, for the Princes.” Mitzi smiled, eyes bright as creative wheels turned behind them, not exactly looking at Adelle, as if she was already constructing the blueprints in her mind, “After all, I suspect the owners of them do have places to go to take care of business, and I doubt everywhere will be hospitable for their delicate conditions.”

Mitzi’s eyes flicked away from her mental plans about playrooms and back to reality, looking down at the outstretched palm. Oh, so it was the egg itself. Purple Frog? That sounded pretty, she would have to do her research as soon as she had the time. A delicate hand reached out, fingers still soft despite having a craftsman’s job, carefully plucking the pin from Madame X’s hand. The woman turned it over carefully, skilled fingers running along the edges almost analytically as she examined the design, attention always drawn back to the tiny blue egg fastened in the middle.

As beautiful and exciting as it was, Mitzi could not ignore the weight settling in her stomach. This was more than just the responsibility of a child, it was going to be the responsibility of an entirely new species with no information or experiences from predecessors to learn from simply because there were no predecessors. The woman closed her hand lightly around the pin, bringing her hand in to hold it close to her chest.

“I hope there is some information you can give me about the care of the egg. You know, as crude as it is about to sound, a manual of some sort would be lovely.” She smiled; trying to convey to the other woman that she was in earnest about the request. If this prince was going to be her baby Mitzi wanted to make sure things were done right, even if all her hard work would be overturned when she spoiled the little darling rotten.

Exactly two things were going through her mind. How to properly care for her prince, and how to design a safe playroom for a growing creature that she did not know what it would grow into. Handsome young men, if the title of Prince had anything to do with it, but what would a frog Prince need? She kept a chuckle in place at her mind’s automatic response of ‘a princess’. The guest garage was two stories, and a third story would probably have to be added to make a full environment that could entertain anything from children to young men for any matter of days. Her fingers itched for a comprehensive holographic work table to start designing with, but she would have to get her hands on a contractor’s table first to make sure her ideas were structurally sound. A contractor's comprehensive holographic table would automatically calculate and re-adjust a designer’s plans in order to make the desired building possible, her own table was for toys and toy houses, not something full-scaled.

Ah, if only she had been able to take those architect classes as well. There was an appeal of designing buildings that was not nearly satisfied by designing dollhouses.