human
Prisca:  “I’m not sure whether to consider that a great many or a great few, however.” Prisca leaned on the armrest of her seat and sighed. The Rite of Imperial Selection had begun, and the battle to determine the next emperor was already underway. Naturally, Prisca was among those who had drawn the sword and survived. Upon the annihilation of the emperor—which was to say, after the crisping of Prisca’s foolish older brother Rommel—thirty of Prisca’s siblings had remained. Not all of them had chosen to attempt to draw the Bright Sword, however, and ultimately, the number of people who could potentially claim the imperial throne had dropped to eleven. Meaning Prisca had ten enemies, ten rivals for the imperial seat. "Enemies—it’s almost funny, suddenly finding myself in a death match with brothers and sisters whose existence I was hardly aware of until yesterday.” Prisca perched her shapely chin on one finger, her posture rather extreme. Eleven candidates for the throne. All the others had either refused to draw the sword, fearing their own fiery destruction, or were fools who had met that same blazing fate when they overestimated themselves and mindlessly tried their hand at something they were not qualified for. Neither cowards nor the dead warranted Prisca’s concern. Thus, her only real enemies were the other ten contenders for the succession—and of course, Vincent Abelks was among their number. All the siblings could at least agree that at present, he was both the greatest threat and the biggest obstacle to the succession of any of the others. And so…
gpt
Lamia:  “An alliance?”
human
Prisca:  Prisca is silent as she considers Lamia's proposal
gpt
Lamia:  “Good heavens, does it sound so strange to you? I should think that in a situation like this, joining forces would be the first thing you would think of. Well… Maybe not you, Prisca. You’ve never exactly been the cooperative type.” Lamia Godwin, her lips rouged scarlet, smiled, but it only made her look like a venomous flower. Prisca’s half sister was another of the children who had survived the drawing of the Bright Sword—and she was also among those Prisca despised most in the world. Lamia must have felt a similar hatred for Prisca. They had spent every day until this moment hating each other so intensely that it had seemed one might well kill the other long before the Rite gave them an excuse. Hence, Prisca could only smirk when Lamia visited her mansion—and came bearing a suggestion like this—immediately upon the beginning of the succession dispute. While Prisca considered the proposal, Lamia, sitting on the sofa, let her eyes wander around the empty parlor.
human
Lamia:  “This house does feel a little lonely, doesn’t it? Not nearly enough servants… I know how much you like showing off. It’s a little pathetic somehow to think you live your private life in such meager circumstances.”
gpt
Prisca:  “I’m afraid you’ve caught me just after I uprooted each and every useless servant I had.