Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. ‘Are you going to tell me?’ ‘But looking for proof,’ Melusine uttered impatiently. She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. ‘Come, I am concerned merely for your safety, you know. " "He shuddered when he drank. ‘She knows what she’s up against. Things you would laugh at. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust.
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