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Adventure:-- LPNN (Manzanita Judging)
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<blockquote data-quote="two" data-source="post: 2313693" data-attributes="member: 9002"><p>Hallidor nods and shakes Almayce's hand. Hallidor presses 50 gold into Almayce's palm, and then attempts (as best he is able) to answer one of Almayce's questions.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange">“How did we discover Hallidora? It was her maid, Dagmar, who first entered her room that morning. We questioned Dagmar very closely, you can be sure. I know her story as if I saw it all myself; experienced it myself… but I shall tell it to you as Dagmar told it to me – accurate down to the word, I assure you.</span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange">‘I went into her room like I normally do, with her favorite breakfast: two bits of twice-toasted bread, a bowl of warm butter, and two cored apples, split and then quartered. She was in the bed, not stirring, but that wasn’t unusual. The Mistress doesn’t always stir when I enter. I went over to the curtain and pulled it open, then turned and put down the painted breakfast tray on the small table next to her bed. I hadn’t yet looked at her. And the curtains shivered. I do remember that, the curtains shivered, which I thought strange, for it was already warm that morning, without a breeze, and yet the curtains shifted. I swear they blew outward, into the summer air, as long as I can breathe I will maintain that. Maybe it means nothing… but I’m willing to believe it does.</span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange">I told her to get up. I said it sharply. Oh, I do wish I had not spoken sharply; I hope she was at that point far gone, far to gone to be able to hear my voice. I don’t want her carrying that to the next world, my sharpness. But, I must be honest: I said it sharply, and turned to the bed, looking down at her. She was on her side, facing the wall, still as a statue. The white covers had slipped down below her shoulder. I stared at it for a little longer than I would normally; I think already I sensed something wrong. Perhaps her skin, normally so white, had a tinge of blue. I’m not sure. But I did feel something horrible, I felt as if I were entering a dream, one of those dreams where you reach out for something that can’t be caught. Or run from something that can’t be avoided. Time slowed as I reached, my fingers grazed her skin, the smooth skin of her shoulder – and I felt it was cold, her skin cold, the cold penetrating me instantly. I wasn’t able to think, that’s why I didn’t scream right away – that’s the only reason. It was like I couldn’t help myself. My other hand reached out, touching her cold shoulder, and I pulled, I rolled her onto her back, thinking I don’t know what, that maybe it was just the chill of the night air which froze her shoulder? That I was horribly mistaken, and the sun might rise at midnight, and stars dance in the cow’s milking pail? Anything was possible, but not after I rolled her over, because not only was her shoulder blue but her face as well, and the expression: well, Master, you have seen it yourself. I can’t begin to describe it.’</span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange"></span></p><p><span style="color: DarkOrange">“That’s Dagmar’s story,” Hallidor said, “that’s as much as she would or could say. And, to answer the question that you will now ask: Hallidora’s expression. It was unlike anything anyone had ever seen on a dead person. It was a look of pure ecstasy.”</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="two, post: 2313693, member: 9002"] Hallidor nods and shakes Almayce's hand. Hallidor presses 50 gold into Almayce's palm, and then attempts (as best he is able) to answer one of Almayce's questions. [COLOR=DarkOrange]“How did we discover Hallidora? It was her maid, Dagmar, who first entered her room that morning. We questioned Dagmar very closely, you can be sure. I know her story as if I saw it all myself; experienced it myself… but I shall tell it to you as Dagmar told it to me – accurate down to the word, I assure you. ‘I went into her room like I normally do, with her favorite breakfast: two bits of twice-toasted bread, a bowl of warm butter, and two cored apples, split and then quartered. She was in the bed, not stirring, but that wasn’t unusual. The Mistress doesn’t always stir when I enter. I went over to the curtain and pulled it open, then turned and put down the painted breakfast tray on the small table next to her bed. I hadn’t yet looked at her. And the curtains shivered. I do remember that, the curtains shivered, which I thought strange, for it was already warm that morning, without a breeze, and yet the curtains shifted. I swear they blew outward, into the summer air, as long as I can breathe I will maintain that. Maybe it means nothing… but I’m willing to believe it does. I told her to get up. I said it sharply. Oh, I do wish I had not spoken sharply; I hope she was at that point far gone, far to gone to be able to hear my voice. I don’t want her carrying that to the next world, my sharpness. But, I must be honest: I said it sharply, and turned to the bed, looking down at her. She was on her side, facing the wall, still as a statue. The white covers had slipped down below her shoulder. I stared at it for a little longer than I would normally; I think already I sensed something wrong. Perhaps her skin, normally so white, had a tinge of blue. I’m not sure. But I did feel something horrible, I felt as if I were entering a dream, one of those dreams where you reach out for something that can’t be caught. Or run from something that can’t be avoided. Time slowed as I reached, my fingers grazed her skin, the smooth skin of her shoulder – and I felt it was cold, her skin cold, the cold penetrating me instantly. I wasn’t able to think, that’s why I didn’t scream right away – that’s the only reason. It was like I couldn’t help myself. My other hand reached out, touching her cold shoulder, and I pulled, I rolled her onto her back, thinking I don’t know what, that maybe it was just the chill of the night air which froze her shoulder? That I was horribly mistaken, and the sun might rise at midnight, and stars dance in the cow’s milking pail? Anything was possible, but not after I rolled her over, because not only was her shoulder blue but her face as well, and the expression: well, Master, you have seen it yourself. I can’t begin to describe it.’ “That’s Dagmar’s story,” Hallidor said, “that’s as much as she would or could say. And, to answer the question that you will now ask: Hallidora’s expression. It was unlike anything anyone had ever seen on a dead person. It was a look of pure ecstasy.”[/COLOR] [/QUOTE]
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