Work Text:
Dende’s hands moved quickly. The back of his nail ensured crisp and clean folds. No second-guessing. This was his last shot. Holding his breath he lifted up the immaculate paper plane, balancing it delicately in his small green hands.
He aimed for a gap in the pillars lining the walls. A gentle push and his expertly-designed plane soared. It performed a perfect barrel roll before bouncing off the pillar and landing in Mr Popo’s hand.
“Dende,” Mr Popo said, a confused frown on his face as he observed the floor and its copious drifts of crumpled paper planes. “What have you been up to?”
Dende flushed a delicate purple and scrabbled for a sheet of paper so he could pretend to be doing work. His ruse was doomed from the beginning; all of his papers were in the shape of planes.
“Working?” he offered, then sighed and put his face in his hands. Being Kami was a lot more paperwork than he had been led to believe.