human
Priscilla:  "I’m willing to set it aside for now. At the moment, I’m far less interested in my rather unremarkable husband than I am in this sword-slave island."
gpt
Jorah:  “U-unremarkable? That hurts…”
human
Priscilla:  “If you do not wish to be hurt, then make yourself something of interest to me. At least as of this moment, you are certainly not more intriguing than an entertainment I’ve never witnessed before.”
gpt
Jorah:  Jorah’s shoulders slumped under his wife’s merciless assault. "Just to be clear…you weren’t simply taken by the moment? You really intend to go to Ginonhive?”
human
Priscilla:  “Of course I do. This is Delacroix—ahem, High Countess Delacroix we’re talking about. To accept her invitation and then later renege would be such an affront that she might very well go to war against us. Even I do not wish to lose the house I’ve only just married into. It would be a bitter pill to swallow.”
gpt
Priscilla:  Her crimson eyes were looking to the sky, over the horizon where the sky dragons had disappeared—her thoughts on the sword-slave island that must be out there. The thought of it brought a swell to her still-flat chest. "It matters not. For the world bends itself to suit me.”