She felt an eye under her fingers and chill went through her spine.
- Interlude IV - Dal'coler
“You will do everything I order you, after all” said Lorian, almost joyfully and his tone as sweet as the sweetest fruits. “In time… you will eat everything.”
Red, thick juice trickling between his fingers, in places where sharp black talons pierced the apple flesh, spilling on the floor.
Like crimson rain.
Pure blood.
“You really want to feed me?” Mina finally said, not liking Oosel’s gaze, which passed over her with a certain amount of curiosity and badly suppressed malicious enjoyment.
- Courts and Horrors - I
“Oh, why does she even ask?” smiled Oosel, her tiny teeth showing. “She can’t be so thin… so hungry. It speaks ill of Lord Lorian and the way he treats his guests.”
You didn’t care so far, Mina thought.
But she was still cautious. Who knew what else they might try to stuff her with without her even knowing what she was putting in her mouth. But she was exhausted, tired… she knew that one day she would eat whatever they gave her, as Lorian said. She preferred that to apples, which were a much more obvious threat.
She sat on her bed and Oosel – kindly – offered her the meat with bread.
Lorian just chuckled, charmingly and… walked away, his shadows following him like smoky ghosts.
- A Cruel Taste of Desire - V
Lady Astra watched in horror as the mirrors reflected a slithering darkness which started to crawl closer and closer to her nerves, which pulsed with promise of even more intense torment. And the mirrors… They were both cold and fierce in their hunger. In their cruel thirst for her body and soul.
Just like Lorian Ain’Dal.
“No, I am here because I have brought you a gift,” her hand reached for his face, and before he could protest, the fingers closed over his cheeks. The woman’s face came closer, very close. He felt his muscles tense even more, instinctively preparing for something cruel.
- At His Mercy - I
But the woman… only inhaled his scent. Her fingers cupped his cheeks. She seemed lost for a small moment, but Tiyan caught a glimpse of something in her… a tiny moment which revealed her suffering.
“You smell of vermilion, of late autumn. But your face is… a sound of hard rock, warmed by the sun, giving the water in the afternoon.”
Tiyan looked at her incredulously as she tugged the chain around his neck.
“Lorian wants me to give you a message,” her smile, on her round, full face, was somehow beautiful. As if it shone with inverted light, painted with well-concealed pain. “Your sister is alive…”