Morwenna ought to have known this day was going to be hard one. She had grown accustomed to waking up on the floor of her cellar with the unspeakable ache of her bones having reformed themselves - as much as one could become accustomed to such a thing at any rate - but this morning she had opened her eyes to face the day and immediately thrown up. Actually being sick wasn’t new either, but propped up on her weak arms it hadn’t taken her long to notice that she was bringing up the remains of the flesh that had been torn from her own arms the night before.

It would teach her to not fill her stomach before a transformation again at any rate.

Bandaged and raw she had managed to make her way into the office, leaning on her cane as surreptitiously as she could as she passed people she was supposed to lead. Luckily most of them were inclined to mind their own business and she closed the door of her office the moment she could, quite sure that if she made it through this day then she would be forced to reconsider the faith of her youth she had abandoned many moons ago.

Within the first hour she had fallen asleep at her desk. When a knock came at her door she shot awake, filled with panic-fuelled adrenaline and almost indignant - she had taken to purposefully rescheduling meetings around the moon and hoping nobody noticed. Apparently somebody hadn’t gotten the memo.

“Come in!” She called, already feeling bile rise in her throat as wakefulness and pain reminded her of quite how broken she was.

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MJ knows my soul rings to the rune of this iconic hat