Do You Want Her, Daddy?
The great doors, Darkwood and incised with twin silver moons, swung apart silently.
Inside…
The ceiling rose high above them, shrouded in folds of silk that flowed like sluggish cloud. Silver candelabras wove its lazy circle of light, casting pools of shimmering radiance on a floor polished to mirror sheen. The air was heavy with the scent of jasmine, old paper, and spiced wine—a faint, intentional fragrance.
Polished moonstone tile extended in front of them, reflecting the light from each candle and glass. Music wafted—refined, far away—less of a celebration, more of a discussion. The type of song designed to fill quiet without ever dominating it.
Stretching windows outlined the twin moons rising now in the velvet sky, their pale light resonating over the chamber.
