Private Tales Where Even the Stones Scream

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
The Shrike’s stare lingered on the thread of dripping sap gleaming against her skin.

“I sleep alone,” he said simply, deciding she had earned that much of an explanation at least.

Though she deserved only that - the merest of rationales. Not the knowledge of what he awoke with in the night, of the screams and fits of agony. None but his closest crew knew the truth - the ones still alive.

The well sculpted, bronze haired Anirian thrall, with his vacant green eyes and a vacuous smile would suit her needs such as they might be for a body, for warmth and the illusion of companionship.

“The expense is because I choose how to spend my coin, to toss them into the sea or to lavish you in gemstones. Whatever I please.”

He lowered his hand back down, fingers skimming across the surface of the amber sap.

“And as I told you before, I reward obedience.”

Keres
 
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