(prompt: 'fight' 28/2/2020)

'We're going to take a stand, you said.

We won't be bowed down by some ugly, swivelly-hipped snakehead, you said.

We're going to fight back this time. What can she do to us? you said'

And Hepzibah answered herself. What could she do to us? Just turn us into stone whenever daylight bathed the earth. That's ALL!  Like womankind of all varieties, Hepzibah was a past master (or mistress) of dropping unanswerable, guilt-laden statements, and then turning a deaf ear to any denials.

Harald's groan came out more like a whimper in answer to his loved one's accusations. It seemed that was the best he could manage in his later centuries, in the final moments of each day before they both rocked on through the endless hours of sunshine and light and happiness... for others. Every morning without fail, at first glow, way before the sun first peeped over the horizon, his whole body would sink into the ground right alongside his love. His last breath before the next twelve hours or more would be a huge outward sigh of regret... and tragic acquiescence to the sage words of his dear Hepzibah. She was right. Again. Of course.

As the eternal great tuft of spinifex grass popped from his head, dropping countless spear-like leaves on his rockface, he couldn't even blow them away. He must wait until full darkness fell again before a monstrous sneeze would clear the air and a path through the trees ahead.

Hepzibah had a different major concern, after grudgingly accepting her unspeakability (that also included a large lack of unfrivolousness and overwhelming inertia, too - stuck as she was between a rock and a hard place). She could never control her fear that her nose would not return to normal when night was done. Curse that Medusa-dame's cotton-picking socks for that last uppercut! Sadly, Hepzibah had been struck by the most serious hardening of the arteries and of her heart, too, so no forgiveness of her enemy was forthcoming. Her milk of human kindness was in solid lockdown, thicker than the curdliest cream EVER known.

Instead, she comforted the few remaining tender sensibilities deep inside her - somewhere - by revelling in the virtual waterfall of ivy that flowed lavishly over her crown as the sun went down.

HA! She sniggered and wryly blessed Medusa for that one oversight. Hepzibah's mashed up nose allowed HER last daily breath to be a huge whoosh, clearing the ivy from her face and bestowing at least one bit of beauty on her worthy self.

Feeling just a tad better as the sun approached the horizon - AGAIN - she attempted to lighten Harald's heavy heart (and soul, presumably lurking somewhere deep inside?), saying -

"I was going to ask if you wanted a roll before dark, but think I'll wait until I feel a little boulder..."