Quick to Anger

“It is only our bad temper that we put down to being tired or worried or hungry; we put our good temper down to ourselves.”
-C.S. Lewis

((OOC: Flo here, not really sure where I'll go with this, but we'll see...))

Vera rummaged through her bag for some ingredients. She intended to make a simple aromatic to soothe the oncoming migraine she felt. Unfortunately, there was no instant spell for curing headaches, so this was her best bet.
She always got these awful migraines when life was particularly stressful, so it came as no surprise when, a few hours ago, she began to feel the all-too-familiar acute pressure in her right temple. She was, after all, under a huge amount of stress these days. This runaway prince scandal was really fraying her nerves. They'd been on his tail for almost a month, and Vera was terribly worried that if he hadn’t spilled the beans by now, it wouldn’t be long before their secret was out. And if that happened, she couldn’t imagine what the League of Witches would do...
Suppressing her nausea, she found the herbs she needed and had just begun grinding them when the door banged open. It was her sister.
"Myrtle, I thought you were downstairs!" Vera snapped irritably. She had been looking forward to some time to herself. Myrtle simply let out a deep, mournful sighed. "What? Don't you know how to talk anymore? Speak up, girl!"
"I was downstairs. But they wouldn't let Tanngnjóstr in. I grew so lonesome, I even missed your company. So I came up here."
Vera rolled her eyes. If you asked her, the world was better off without that wretched goat.
"You're telling me there was absolutely nobody worth talking to?"
"Yes, well, the only half-decent person around was a big guy in terrible need of anti-depressants. I don't blame him -- one of his eyes was missing, and he was covered in all sorts of horrid scars. I kept thinking he looked sort of familiar..." she trailed off thoughtfully.
Vera became very quiet. One might have assumed that she, too, had become lost in thought, but Myrtle knew better. She took her sister's flared nostrils and rapidly increasing breathing rate as a sure sign that she was headed for an explosion.
"You...didn't...happen to notice...if he was wearing...an eye patch...did you?" Vera asked through clenched teeth. By this time, Myrtle had pulled a pair of earplugs out of her pocked and was casually inserting them into her ears.
"Yes, he was, the poor man. I can't imagine having to-"
"You imbecile, you just described the prince we're after! Did you stop and think about that?! No, not once!"
"Well, I never actually-"
"Don't interrupt! I wish that just once you wouldn't make a mess of things, but no. You let him escape again, and all because of your IDIOCY!" By now, her anger had built itself into uncontrollable rage. "YOU FOOL! YOU DIMWIT! MY LIFE IS MISERABLE BECAUSE -- OF -- YOU!" With this last word, she sent mortar, pestle and herbs crashing through the wall.
"Finished?" asked Myrtle, reaching for her earplugs. She was used to this sort of verbal abuse, and hadn't been paying any attention to her sister.
"Yes," said Vera, breathing heavily. She stood up from the bed, and with a snap of her fingers and a muttered incantation, the wall was mended and the mortar and pestle flew back into her open hand. She immediately felt her head spin, and sat back down. All that shouting had worsened her headache ten fold. She would be capable of next to nothing in this condition. "What time did you say the prince left?"
"You mean that man with the eye patch? About ten minutes before I came up here. Perhaps a quarter to ten?"
"Good. We'll get on his trail in the morning. In the meantime, I need to sleep."
"Vera, if you wanted, I could follow him right now. I'll bet he's not far off-”
“No.”
“But-”
“No! You don’t know how to work a tracking spell, and I don’t want you getting lost. You’ve caused enough trouble already. Now, I’m going to sleep. Do try not to get us killed.” With a flick of her wrist, she extinguished the all the candles in the room. After a moment, Vera mumbled something into the darkness.
"Hmmmm?"
"I said I was sorry."
"What?"
"Sorry."
"What?"
"Sorry, OK?!"
"Oh."
Silence.
"Sorry for what?"
"Go to sleep!"