Mibbet was rapidly learning her second lesson of the day, regret had a bad sound, but it FELT even worse. But it wasn’t like she could do much about that, so after a few minutes breather, she called for a bucket of water.

Soon enough it was brought forth and placed in front of her, as the tattooist, and everybody other human apart from Elvira gathered round to watch. (Elvira obviously wasn’t allowed in a tattoo studio for legal reasons, and Mibbet figured the poor tattooist had suffered enough without being asked to bend more rules. So Elvira was with Addy, who had no interest in body art techniques that did not involve a hammer and chisel. Rascal, who if he got bored would have caused chaos, and Alba who like the others listed would not have fit in the shop anyway. Oh and little Bandit, in case he caused some kind of feedback loop during the etching. Of course we all know as soon as they got back Elvira would demand to see the work anyway.)

So it was the Crown Princess of the entire kingdom found herself voluntarily planning to duck her head into a bucket of water. (At least Sir Leeroy had the common sense to warm it up first, because neither Mibbet or Rosalind needed a hangover cure at this time, and as previously mentioned frogs hate the cold.)

OK time to test, on three.

3......... I hope this works

2........ Well we’ll find out soon enough

on....... SPLOOSH.

Mibbet peered round under the water for a moment, however it was proving to be harder that you would think to convince a submerged human brain that it was OK to breathe. They have this whole stubborn insistence on AIR that is challenging to overcome at the best of times. But they did have the closest thing possible to professional guidance on that particular issue, which helped a lot.

Mibbet took a moment to brace herself, and then took a deep breath, like the old guy on a hike trying to prove what an outdoorsman he was. (You know there’s always one.) Sucking in the water, and trying not to cough and sputter, as the mana circles on her skin went live.

Well she didn’t FEEL like she was drowning, then again how did you know? Frogs don’t usually gain much experience in that particular field. Something was happening though, the skin where the tattoos were felt like that poppy candy Rosalind had once convinced her to try. Outside the water Sir Leeroy gently placed a hand on her shoulder ready to haul her out if needed. But soon enough settled down when Mibbet (head still in the bucket,) flashed him the thumbs up. Traditionally drowning people tended to do more flailing that that.

Well that was test one done, now for the second test, the water speaking aspect, of course she couldn’t have her first test be simple speech, and she hated the pretentious nonsense that usually followed such a progression. That left only one option, she had to make it loud. Singing should do.

“Hello my baby, hello my honey

Hello my ragtime, gal,

Send me a kiss by net,

Baby, I can hardly catch my breath,

you didn't choose me, nor can you lose me,

neither of us can be alone,

So let us hit the road,

and hope we don't expllloooodddeee.”

“What the hell was that?” Rosalind asked, rather confused by the strange ditty.

“I don’t know,” Mibbet replied, “it just seemed appropriate, though I have the inexplicable urge to dance with a cane and a top hat right now. Talk about a weird side effect.”

“Well at least we know it works, though maybe you should talk to the others now before they totally freak out.”

As it turns out, extracting yourself from water, and convincing your lungs that air is useful stuff is even harder after you spend all that time convincing it that particular feature is useless. There’s a few brief, coughy, spluttery few seconds between points. Of course Sir Leeroy chose that moment to sprint over once again to check on her, and that was when, in all that flailing they figured out the strength charm worked too. Not much mind you, but enough to shove Sir Leeroy back a step or two, which is a fairly impressive feat by itself, when you consider how long he spent actively making a career out of being immovable. Though Mibbet had a terrifying feeling that it was capable of more, but her body wasn’t. Technically a human body is capable of some pretty extraordinary things, but they’re mostly a one shot. You never, ever, ever lift with all your strength, and that’s for a bloody good reason. The body reserves a bit of that strength for holding all your bits together, and making sure connective tissue stays... well..... connective. As a last resort taking that away may work , but it totally wasn’t worth it. She carefully focussed on placing limiters on it.

Then it came to her, her JUMPING, it was already freaky, and now she was even stronger. She had to test it out. Though looking up reminded her she was still indoors, so if she didn’t want to be the worlds most socially elevated splat, and need removal from her location via spatula maybe it would be best to do this outdoors.

************************************************************************

Sir Leeroy eyed The Princess cautiously, that girl had always been an odd duck, but even for her this was an unprecedented level of strange. She’d just gone and got a tattoo (how the hell he was supposed to explain that to her father was going to be a challenge to figure out.) Then she had damn near tried to drown herself in a bucket. Now she was heading outside, what the hell was even going on? The answer was apparently jumping practice. She leapt, and it seemed she had miscalculated. He facepalmed as she landed with a thud flat on her jacksie on the opposite side of the bungalow. Her father was going to bloody well kill him, if The Don, and the murderous, eldritch rubber duck didn’t get there first.