Body language secrets a guide during courtship dating epub
The next, we occupy one of the myriad parlours set aside for entertaining guests in the mistress’s enclave. Tucked into a corner of the parlour, keeping as still as possible so as not to disturb the spindly furnishings, thick draperies, and thin skins of artworks scattered around like demons ready to eat my tail, it takes a lot of my small strength not to stare at the outside too long. The mistress waits, face as still as her terrible hands.Allowing us this view cuts just as deep as her knives. Like her temper, the mistress keeps herself restrained within walls upon walls.“Surely a great drakon like you could just fly away.” . “Just because you do not see a tether or a lock does not mean we are free to move,” I say, weaving my head, a sign of dismissal. I will forgive you this time for not knowing the rules.” “This is a prison,” the woman snaps. I have employed my name in Drakon-het before, and it costs me little.“You have not been here long then.” My good eye mocks the ceiling that mocks me back with its clarity; orimos, Drake’s corrupted blood, wriggles its silvery maggoty way around the edges. They will surely slice you wide open as well as the mistress’s fingers can.” The woman clasps her hands in her plain smock. “I understand the rules begat by walls all too well.” “Then you will understand you do not ask certain questions,” I murmur. “That is a…you are a…” My chuckle is choked with cobwebs and disuse. Yes, I am fire-predominate, in dragon speak, if it so interests you. Have you not figured out that is why the mistress keeps us all here?Eventually, all creation must assume into arrangements to please the mistress.The mistress decides when we have seen enough, and tosses a package at Riena’s feet as if the contents and Riena’s hands are unworthy of her touch. I am having a guest for dinner, and I expect a complete sample by then.” Riena chooses well by picking up the package. Her guts have quickened, the stitches tightening in their neat seams.
At the centre of it all glimmers the atrium garden atop the fractal in which we all reside waiting on the mistress’s pleasure. Perhaps the weight that ties me also attracts stone and glass.
“I can leave the room, but you cannot.” Shrugging would disturb the furnishings and old voices.
I have never been brought to this place, but I know the voices embedded in the guts of the room. You may be lost for a time, but she will find you eventually. “I have not seen her work with bone.” Riena is too busy stroking skeins of silk threads to care which spindly chair deserves her rump.
There are only two ways to leave the mistress’s menagerie. As with anyone who intrudes on what weak sunlight I can gather to myself through the atrium glass, she takes a step back upon presentation of the gnarled mass of which was once my left eye.
All of us prisoners buried within the menagerie’s pristine fractals are here by virtue of our skills. “I spoke, lizard.” She stands close enough to the entrance of my pen that I turn my head, though the detriment to my neck muscles is almost not worth it.The mistress strides through one of the many doors too large for her tall frame, but which do nothing for me.