A writing contest, of sorts

Apparently I can't resist a writing challenge. Today's snippet brought to you by Editorial Ass, whose list of endangered words could not help but spark a bit of sci fi/fantasy from me...

The challenge was to use a list of archaeic words in a short story of 250 words or less. Enjoy, and feel free to refer to the original post if (when) you need a dictionary.

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"Niddering old fool," muttered Milicent, reaching calloused hands into the olid calignosity of the ancient cupboard. The fubsy scholar, in his caducity, had trusted in the mansuetudinous muliebrity of what he thought was an agrestic farmwife to help repair his facilities. Millicent grinned in the darkness. His oppugnant ignorance was easy to vilipend.

She had passed a fortnight in the recrement of his laboratory, filled with sediment from the recent deluge. While beggars, dressed in looted silks and brocades, vaticinated the end of the world, she had shrugged off their extremist fatidical ramblings. Milicent would forge destiny, not be swayed by it.

Her fingers brushed against cold metal. She hefted the small chest from the muck. Using her apron as an abstergent, she cleansed the griseous sewage from the lid. Deftly, she found the mechanism to open it, just as the scrolls had described. With a skirr, the lid flew open, revealing a nitid jewel amongst folds of luxurious black velvet. The Periapt of Isingier was hers.

"Mrs. Mundial? I thought I heard a commotion…"

Uttering a malision, Milicent whirled to face her doddering employer.

"The artifact is mine now," she snarled dangling the jeweled necklace in front of her.

"Apodeictic, my dear." The man seemed taller than before. Had he taken a reborant?

Instantly, she exuviated her disguise, revealing her true, beautiful, self.

"Millie, I had not thought to embrangle you in this quagmire. You are even more beautiful than your mother."

"Father? Impossible…"

"Not impossible. Compossible."