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"She loves him like a crow loves carrion, like a starving rat loves the body of a fallen comrade. Smeary happy, crunchy bone blood love." Vera Moray and the Outsider, back in their day.
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She loves him like a crow loves carrion, like a starving rat loves the body of a fallen comrade. Smeary happy, crunchy bone blood love.
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“There are always people,” the Outsider said, and she made an echo of his words words, slippered feet scuffing Serkonan carpet as she followed him into the hallway. She held his hand, clammy little fish. Bony bones.Preston looked exhausted; holding the stub of a candle that only served to highlight every chasm of age. Wrinkle wrinkle, old and dying. He’d gained so many lines since the Pandyssian voyage, same as he’d gotten those big bags under his pale eyes. A different shadow to hers. His voice became a plea, but there was a touch of fright there now. “Please, love.” She wondered what he saw in the dark. He didn’t want to sleep with her really.
The Outsider let her hand go, wandering off into another room. Preston’s fingers shook as he clutched his only source of light, and the flame licked up the dim walls of the place. Trembling, losing. “Come.”
A clunking of notes came from somewhere else; the Outsider had found the music room. Preston flinched, and moved back a little. The whole upper floor was lit, and he was retreating into that. There were still servants moving around somewhere; a clock ticked in a way which could not be stopped. There were no Pandyssian trophies on the third floor.
“I’ll join you later, dear,” Vera waved a hand gently to the man’s retreat.
“Don’t,” the Outsider said, appearing in the doorway. Hand held out, expectant.
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“Have I begun to know you?” she asked, and his lips quirked.“Yes.” He rolled her hand in his, then blew on the fingers, for all the good his cold fog breath did. He told her she should get some gloves. The boys outside shouted, and there was a knock at her door, before a burst of laughter shook and they departed with fearful glee. He pressed a kiss to her fingertips, then said they could marry after all. If she would only do one last task.
“What have I refused?” Vera Moray quoted, and to that he agreed.
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