"We [i]should[/i] have a museum!" Agatha insisted, adamant that Pinafore should agree with her. She held the fingerling up with both hands over her head, so he could properly see all the wonderful trinkets and treasures that a proper archaeologist would give his right leg for. "Father and I don't need the bottom floor for just us two people -- we could have display cases and little note cards with dates and things on them --"

Pinafore cut her off with a shriek and he flapped his wings, tumbled out of her hands in a panic and scratched her thumb with a claw in his fright (completely by accident, of course). "Ouch!" Agatha frowned and sucked on her bleeding knuckle, and she watched the little dragon scuttle with fanned blue wings and furious tail underneath a bookcase. "What on earth --"

*crack!*

Agatha turned around, curious long before she could think to be afraid, and she saw that the diamonds and jewels set into an ancient feathered headdress were [i]glowing[/i]. She blinked, and she set a soft foot forward and craned her long neck -- but certainly, [i]surely[/i] they were giving off their own light from within. And the table beside her, with its polished stones and chipped statues, was [i]humming[/i]. She only had time to see for an instant that those stones and statues and rubies and sapphires were [i]quivering[/i] on their own accord before it all ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Agatha stared at a statue of a cat that she could have sworn had just been shuddering, and she stuck a finger out to touch it --

*crackle*

Her eyes snapped to the glass casing, which was now for all appearances about to fall apart for the web of cracks that had woven through it. She walked around the table, pressed her hands to her knees and leaned forward to stare through it at the gleeful little stone man. "Are [i]you[/i] the one causing this trouble?" she accused him. Really, she had no idea what had happened -- maybe Pinafore had accidentally reacted with an old enchanted piece, which wasn't completely impossible -- but this little stone god seemed to have been at the center of that little island of shaking and glowing, and it amused her to believe it was true.

"Well now look what you've done, your house is broken!" She shook her head, admonishing the naughty little statue, and very carefully she took hold of the broken case by the corners and lifted it off onto the seat of a chair beside her. "There," she said, satisfied, "now doesn't that feel better? It's not exactly fresh air, but at least you're not all cooped up."

Agatha squinted at it, and she pressed her face a bit closer. "What a funny little god you are, with a funny little face." She leaned on the table, and with her injured hand she rubbed a finger over his smooth head, wondering at the shrines and temples he must have lived in.