Flutter-Bye Season
@Tabletop Whale Flutter-Bye Season: A Field Guide to Absolutely Nothing You Need to Know Summer cracks its knuckles and out they come, the flutter-byes, old-timey word for panic with wings, proof that evolution has a sense of humor and a serious thing for pastels. They used to be called flutter-byes, which honestly makes more sense than butterfly, because have you ever seen one near butter? Exactly. This is a monarchy with no chain of command. The Monarch wears orange like it invented the color, never applied for the throne, just showed up already regal, already famous, already on somebody's backpack. The Duke of Burgundy never earned his title either, some Victorian bug nerd just liked the sound of it, slapped a name on a wingspan the size of a fingernail and called it aristocracy. Bold move. Respect. Meanwhile the Silver Emperor and the Golden Birdwing are having a size contest across two continents they will never resolve, because nobody told them wingspan isn't a persona...
