"You're telling me all he writes is porn?"

The Auditor sighed, fixing Charlotte with a weary gaze over her gray-rimmed spectacles. From the day she had been formed from the stuff of imagination, Charlotte had been nothing but trouble. Always with the grand dreams of being the Muse for a great poet or renowned composer, flittering about the Aerie with dreams in her head going tragically unspent by human minds.

"Yes, Charlotte. All he writes, as you so indelicately put it, is porn."

Scowling, Charlotte looked at the paper again. Why couldn't she have got someone interesting? That hermit in New Mexico with all the apparently-popular incest fantasies, even, not this disreputable cut-rate, part-time smut peddler. There was no way, she decided, she'd ever be a proper Muse at this rate. No grand epics or gorgeous ballads, just one string of petty amusements after another. One with hobbits prancing about, one with devils and angels, one... well, that death one was pretty good. And the thousand words?

Charlotte flushed, remembering that part of her assignment.

That was pretty good.

"But... it's porn," she pointed out, earning another sigh from the Auditor. "What if he finds me too mild?"

The Auditor grinned slightly, a flicker of a smirk passing over her lips before handing Charlotte a small package tied up with string. "That, my dear, will not be a problem. You've always had a lovely imagination; just... put it to use. Inspire him a little, and perhaps you'll find something worth pursuing out in that nice wide world down there."

With reluctant fingers, Charlotte untied the package. A notepad with golden pen, a flask of aether for the road, and...

"That's it?" she asked dubiously. If he rubbed off on her, she'd just end up all... well, disreputable herself...

The Auditor smiled, handing her a small, slippery bottle filled with something slick.

"You'll need that," the Auditor nodded, one aged hand hovering over the switch to send the fledgling Muse out into the world. "He can see us, you know."

And before she had time to ponder that, Charlotte found herself hurled Earthward, thoughts racing as she plunged toward her destination.

Someone asked where I get all my ideas from. I guess I just... have a muse? But, knowing me, if that were the case... I'd probably end up doing her.

And that, I guess, is how ideas are born.

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