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(Story) Reassignment (my followup)
Adri prime
adriellyn


"The next rod, please, Rupgup, that you haven't overheated yet."

The imp cackles while continuing to juggle the coiffuring rods.  "Overheated?  They're not even bending yet."  He backflips and tosses one to the succubus without missing a beat, still keeping six more of them in the air.

A knocking comes at the heavy door of the chamber while Dislia winds her mistress's hair about the heated rod.  Without moving, the seated sin'dorei calls out, "Enter!"

The chatelaine comes into the room, staying nervously by the door.  "Your Grace, a courier brought a message for you."  Her eyes dart about the room, trying not to watch the demons too directly.

"Which courier, Bortelana?"

Giving a nervous swallow, the servent replies, "I did not recognise him, Your Grace, but the crest was ebon with a dragonhawk pupure rampant atop a lance dexter argent."

Jendria gives a dry chuckle, keeping her head still while the succubus continues to tend to the flowing white hair.  "Ah, that would have been Rath'kersin.  Rather a supercilious ass, but he does get the job done.  He required a gratuity?"

Looking rather nonplussed, the chatelaine gives a quick nod.  "Er, yes, Your Grace..."

Not waiting to hear the details, the seated woman clicks her tongue.  "Kreephom!  Be a good boy and fetch me the message, won't you?"  A felhound emerges from under the canopied bed and bounds eagerly over to the servant, who drops the letter in her surprise.  The demon catches it gently in its massive jaws and runs to its mistress.  Jendria takes the note in her left hand while scratching at the base of the beast's antennae with her right.  "To your left, Bortelana, on the other side of the candelabra.  The purse in the dish.  You may, of course, reimburse yourself for that gratuity."

With a nervous nod and fumbling curtsey, the chatelaine gratefully turns her attention to that task.  "Thank you, Your Grace."

Jendria raises her elegantly manicured hand from the felhound's head and waves it dismissively.  "Pah.  Such out of pocket expenses were not in your job description.  It wouldn't be fair to expect you to bear them."  The servant curtseys again, but the noble continues before any reply can be ventured.  "I see that my companions make you nervous, so I shan't detain you with idle chatter.  Thank you, Bortelana."

With another quick curtsey and a bob of her head, the chatelaine replies, "Thank you, Your Grace," and slips back out of the chamber.

Once the door closes, the seated woman raises the letter to where she can read it without moving her head.  Her lips purse in a momentary frown of disapproval at the condition of the note before her expression gives way to a sardonic smirk.  "Ah, and what sort of penmanship did I expect, with that Rath'kersin standing there, making snide comments and tapping his foot impatiently, no doubt, and dear Naddie caught by surprise without a proper writing surface, even, I'm sure.  I should be grateful that it's legible at all."

Dislia glances over her mistress's shoulder to take in the letter as she finishes the last touches on Jendria's hair.  "You'll be off to that inn, then?"

A quick nod shakes the freshly-curled tendrils dangling at the sides of her face.  "Indeed."  She pauses for a deep, heavy sigh.  "And I must remember with whom I am dealing, and stop reacting so badly to her ... condition."

The three demons in the room each look at their mistress in confusion, with the succubus covering it by pretending to check her nails.  Jendria sighs again upon sensing their reaction, shaking her head slowly.  "Please.  You know how fond I am of you all, despite what you are.  Yet unlike how I treat you, I keep hurting Naddie.  I see the disappointment every time she tries to reach out to me, and I recoil from her undead flesh."  She sighs again, sharply, and abruptly stands and begins pacing about the room.  "That woman has never offered me anything but open-hearted friendship, yet nearly every time I'm near her I might as well be setting hounds to her.  She deserves better of me."  Grabbing up her cloak, she heads for the door without a backward glance.  On her way out, she adds in a soft voice filled with grim determination, quietly enough that only their link with their mistress's thoughts enables the demons to be sure they've heard her correctly, "I deserve better of myself."

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