(no subject)

[shelley_winters]

Graendal smiles absently whenever her gaze passes over the little girl, kneeling stiffly beside her chair, arms outstretched to hold an ornate gold tray. It is heavy, and she has been there for a few hours, but her face remains calm and content. She is happy to do whatever her Mistress asks, of course, no matter how much the position aches. The Chosen nods. So much better after that struggling and carrying on at first. A casual hand strokes the soft red hair, and the child's eyes light up with delighted adoration forced by the Compulsion flooding her mind, though she obediently doesn't move. Quite a sweet little thing, once tamed and cleaned up.

"Good girl."

Graendal had Healed the most disfiguring injuries on her body, though it is not a skill she is well talented in. But open cuts heal over and most of the bruising fading before she stops. The still-visible markings here and there are hidden easily enough from this distance by the thin gauze draped prettily over one shoulder, the elegant touches of makeup on her face and body, and the light sheen of oil scented with jasmine. There had been no need to waste more energy in removing deeper bruising, and they would fade in time.

And later on, she could begin breaking down the blocks on Shelley's mind to uncover the information that her memories must hold. A very welcome acquisition, and not just for such a fascinating association. The deep red of her hair on pale skin looks really very fetching against the curtains.

Comments

[arewehuman.livejournal.com]

The woman daintily raises her eyebrows, with a regretful sigh.

"I will be sad to lose her, but if you are so very attached, of course."

A silent nudge with saidar, and Shelley stands, still holding the tray with wine and a glass. Graendal reaches over and pats her bare hip almost caressingly, provoking a shy, delighted smile from the girl before she obediently turns a shadow of that same look on Ishamael as she approaches to offer the glass.

[always-a-liar.livejournal.com]

The smile fell from his face as Shelley walked over to him. Waiting for Graendal to make a move, he only paid a small attention to Shelley's unclothed form-the filmy sash could not qualify as it concealed nothing. She had obviously been abused, but that was to be expected, this would all end soon. There was but one course of action left.

As she held out a glass of wine, his hand closed around hers--

A roaring conflagration erupted, igniting the curtains, consuming Ishamael and Shelley, scorching the floor.

--And then, Graendal was alone in the room.