Excerpt: Two Left Hands

(C) 2023 Kyrinn S. Eis All rights Reserved

"I am prepared to sell, now."
Lom produced a metal inlain crystal prism which he held in his palm.

Ynnella's control was impressive.  She never once looked at it, and maintained perfect eye contact as she reached, openly, for a pouch of coins.  She placed it from its strings, upon the table, to convey its fullness and heft.  Lom began a smile, but became aware of her honesty and restrained his air.  He placed the prism on the table and slid it to the centre.  He openly gestured so that she could reproduce it at her Mistress' behest.

Images of Aariendor played in the air as a triptych of sequential stills which advanced one frame each; black frames between instances to indicate the passage of time.  His decline was apparent the longer he indulged in his revels in the Labyrinth.
"Is this a polished presentation or raw data?"

Lom gestured to indicate its edited form.

"We are more interested in the raw; the time between--"
-- "I need to inform you of a development last night."
Lom took back the prism and manipulated it before he put it down and showed the images from the point of the crash.

Ynnella's jaw set hard at sight of dragon's breath, and a sneer of hatred was apparent, yet still restrained, once the Dracon was in view.
"...makes sense, just being true to his nature..."

Lom looked from her to the projected image, it was the Dracon whom she loathed.  He wondered after that, and waited -- there it was, his breath's first manifestation.

Horror and rapturous wonder overtook her face as well.  Lom's mind, like a clock itself, had the timing down to the moment it played out in her countenance.  Her jaw retracted from slack, but now a deliciously hungry smile graced her face.