#elsewhere

"Love, what's the safe word again? I seemed to have forgotten..." The Jester, Shallimar says as he finds himself tied to the bed. He doesn't recall starting this game. And his lady, Vashti, is not wearing her sexy outfit, not even the birthday one. She is instead sewing in a chair.

Vashti raises a slim antennae "Pardon? Does someone speak? I ... oh, but it is but the wind."

"Hurricane Shalimar would love to ride your coast, my dear but I really am-" he tests the bonds.

"I KNOW it is but the wind," Vashti says, in a rare , if selective raising her voice, as she does not let him finish "Because only the wind is so fickle and shifting as to think it is a 'old and washed away and devoid and unfit of jesterhood'. " A sniff "My shallimar, MY lover, is the funniest pooka in the 9 Kingdoms...and would know better than to be in a sulk for two weeks, seven days, and a parsec" She frowns.

"Oswald has much to answer for" Shalimar says at mention of the parsec, then he sighs "Love.. people do not laugh like they used to in the bronze age, it's not un reasonable to...."

"Howl, oh empty wind, and go only to blow back my love to me" Vashti delcares to the room

Shallimar says "My most succulent harpy, my most treacherous temptress..."

"Flatter away, Wind. " She makes another loop "Thy empty thing, for you belittle the man I love, insulting MY excellent taste in the masculine. Oh, what a victorian treat his bangers and mash were, and well I dined, but you slur, sir wind. you slur my man witch who is more than a sandwich but a meal. And so... you must pay the penalty."

Shalimar hears the phrase "Ah, the tunes looney..." and, adopting a Pepe Le Pew voice , a dead on imitation, he says " This little love bundle. Now she is seeking for us a trysting place. Touching, is it not? Come, my little peanut of brittle. I will help you. Wait for me. Wait."

Vashti gasps. The Pepe voice. Damn the man. He knows how it weakens her!

“Where are you, my little object of art? I am here to collect you," he croons, tempting.

No. She must be strong. She whirls "Blow my skirts like Maid Monroe all thou wish, though shalt receive neither satisfaction, nor freedom until thou agreest to STOP this constant self castigation! You are MINE to flog, no others, not even your own! Do you think a woman wishes to find her man whipping himself when she was right there , highboots elegant aready? Do you sneer at my skills as well as judgement?"

She is moved near to tears. She can cry on command. it's expected of a lady who was once a spy and worse for a dark lord, and it's expected of a lady of victorian sensibilities. but damn it...they're ready to escape without permission and this lummox is the cause.

Shalimar looks at her, and stops his Pepe impersonation, "Your highboots tower above the tallest trolls. I would be brutalized by no other if I had my choice .I... my comments have hurt thee?" A frown.

She lowers her lashes "Do not hide your thoughts from me.... finding the ice pick to get at them takes time.... but you ..." A bite of her lower lip, "I bleed with you every stroke... twice more, for I value you more than you do, and... you must talk to a proctologist about this, Shallimar! or.. .perhaps a friend who is into helping assholes" She says with a sigh

A smile at that "Aye, one who appreciates assholes would appreciate me... I will.. confess to the Baroness my concerns about Jester Security. I.. had avoided... but..."

"But you will go! Bells on? I'll do the piercings for them myself" She offers and insists

"Like the wind" He says

She glares

"No, not the wind. " he corrects "the wind is banished... but.. ah I shall mosey and seek confession from Sister Coradel"

"Good" She wipes at her eyes.

THen she grabs the shears to cut him free "I suppose I must loosen your cables for you to ride there"

His eyes shimmer “You may call me Streetcar, because of my desire for you.”

Her own eyes smolder... and she dims the lights, shears in hand

.......................

1122 races out to track who it is...but finds whoever already gone.

There is however, a package outside that says 'To Miss Zara' and 1122 is sure it is a hard cover book in the manila envelope.

Zara opens the door, peering out.

Large Manila envelope.. definitely a book in there. She knows the smell. hard cover. new. She suspects good quality paper

1122 taps It's Sealed. Want me to go in?

"Nay, I shall open it..." And she does!

It's.. it's HER book! It's.. it's her novel!

The art on the cover is amazing! And..clearly Earl's work! She's seen it before... but not on a book!

"I... oh..." She has no pearls to clutch, but her hand does delicately touch her necklace.

Her pen name in silver and gothic print

"Talia Amur..." She traces the letters with a fingertip. A tiny grin manages to escape.

Not gold. Good. That would have been off. She is almost afraid to open the book, but she must.

Or at least, 1122 thinks she must Bronte is going to lose it when she sees this

"Oh... oh, I hope she doesn't make too much fuss..."

1122 snerks, in a spider way

"We shan't highlight it. Just... hm..." She enters the library, looking for the right spot.

Somewhere not too prominent, nowhere featured or drawing a fuss... but where an eye may land just per chance...

Oh she comes in just as Bronte is snoozing

There... a side table, tucked away in a nook by an upholstered leather chair.

But then, bronte's left nostril lifts in her sleeping

Casual. Like it has been there for ages, merely overlooked.

A pause, and she nudges it an inch to the left. There.

"fee, fi, fo, fum- i smell the blood of an englishman" Bronte stirs more

"Shh, tis naught... sleep."

"Once you wake up and smell the coffee, it's hard to go back to sleep.-Fran Dresher"

"Well, I think you are imagining it."