(Though I have no idea what day it is today, I've decided to ask for monthly votes! And subscriptions, recommendations, tips, whatever...)
Under most circumstances, Sandora was a calm, composed, serious, self-disciplined perfect woman. Living in the First Family, where every day was full of things worth mocking, she was the one least likely—and least inclined—to make snarky comments. But everything had exceptions. Even the steady Queen could lose her composure. When she was with me, she became a little silly and carefree; when she was with Viska, Sandora was quite happy to reveal the meaner side of her personality. These two had been bickering and roughhousing friends for tens of millions of years. Their daily routine together mostly consisted of arguing and setting each other up, though they did sometimes chat and laugh together like normal friends. Usually, however, that only lasted a few minutes: Viska, that Rogue who was rotten from head to toe, could always find a chance to provoke the fire buried deep inside Sandora. Seventy million years ago, she did it by swaggering around and scamming people on Sandora's territory. Seventy million years later, she did it by stealing Sandora's claimed rations.
Oh, right. I was the rations.
It wasn't hard to imagine that Sandora must have been even more serious and composed before she met Viska. Even if someone told me she had been as expressionless and emotionless as Pandora was now, I'd believe it. She had been driven into this state entirely by Viska, that Rogue—the latter's contaminating influence was simply too strong.
Even if you were a saint, spending two hours face-to-face with Viska might make you walk out the next day with two hairtail fish tattooed on your arms...
Sandora and Viska had circled the Living Room seventy or eighty times.