∴ Kulaan looked from the skulled, cheerful creature to the skull-covered-with-skin and just as cheerful her. A brow was perked, a mark of the surprise brought on by her question. “Really? Do you know what it even does?” He inquired, pointing to the creature with a glance.
“Well, he obviously does what he does. Come on! Just for an hour . . . we’re not even going to release him into the central market. Promise, it’ll be the back alleys.” She pleaded, raising puppy eyes to him.
∴ He lowered his voice into silence, and watched the Mandrake Troupe hold their breaths. When he spoke, he voice was thickened, heavier – because that is how a Dragon speaks, he added. “My Wife.” The Dragon began. “The reasons I do not such things is because . . .” He stopped. A light flickered behind his eyes, as he watched his little buddies inching closer, and raising their little hands towards him, eager and with baited breaths. They needed to know! He continued. “The reason I do no such things is because I am . . . a man-drake.”
The Mandrakes remained stunned for a second – and at a moment’s notice, they turned around and wailed in anguish at the hearing of such an ending. “You are not that clever.” Spoke the bird next to him. “Yes, I am.” He smirked back.
∴ “Oi.” Harper drew Rya’s attention with a flick of her fingers. “D’you see the cunts?” The blueish eyes drew to a certain spot ahead of them.
Rya eyed her friend with a sidelong glance. For all of her style and poise, the woman could curse like a drunken Scottish sailor who hadn’t seen land in a year. The cursing couldn’t but draw a skyward roll of her eyes. “Yes. What’s the what with them?” Unlike her friend, she was concrete, and to the point. What was, was simply what it was.
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