The little thing fit well into this chamber, the corridor of treasures. In a fire, this place would be safe. It was its own thing. A capsule with dead things that made living things horrible with want. She was another element, then, walking the barren floor and its long dead carpet. How proud she was, like he had made things out of the rocks on a poor, unblessed planet and given it to her, when really it was she that was life. He smiled with one cheek when she threw her awe at all the trinkets. He should have been in love with this nymph at that point, for her heart, standing there. But he was inlove with the game he'd planned in an instant. To his credit, he'd not had the intention, coming in.<br/><br/>Kedrick let out a satisfied sigh when he threw her. Even as a pivoted javelin Iris was pleasant. She could do nothing wrong, and brought the erupting glass into her whirlwind of delight. And how perfectly she became - from the platform of what, he didn't consider, because this was not a mask, even though he treated it like one - Iris, scolded. He didn't see that if this had been a performance, then there was no real nymph, only an orchestra where he picked the concerto. A body of work without a real body. How selfish that it made sense to him. It was exactly why the clauses had been in place for requiring something like her.<br/><br/>He was getting to know her, when the meeting gyres of her world stormed on her eloquent expression, but he couldn't fathom what that meant. If he was playing in absolution, because the avatars he dressed her in weren't really there, then he should have seen that Iris in her own skin had to be valued higher, if nothing else, then for the delicacy of her break. He was an untrained tongue having the best wine and crushing the best caviar between filthy molars.<br/><br/>His mouth became rounder when she wore her rainbow of souls that could easily be soaked into his punishment, whichever he picked. Ah, the little creature really was convenient. He tilted his head like some fanged monster when the deer wouldn't run away. It was not displeasing. If Manon asked, then he would reply.<br/><br/>Kedrick started lifting Naella's article off her body. His meaning was to spare it, but he also undressed her a little like she was no longer good enough for the clothes he'd offered her. It was a shame Iris could not transfer her heartbreak back to him, also. Why would such a function exist? A pleasure creature is only doing half it's job if its just a vessel for endorfins, and it is doing none of it, if the experiences aren't pleasant to the user. He folded the cloth and put it beside the chest she'd broken open, like she was now to govern the article that smelled like Naella, too, in this space.<br/><br/>What to do? "I don't know." he said, disappointed. In pretend, he was prolific. Was he fooling himself, or just wishing Iris could believe him without knowing what kind of thrashing that would subject her to? "But if this is too much for you then perhaps you shouldn't be entrusted with it." he offered and stood, but not without taking her hair with him. He had never suggested she was a failure before. Part of him must know this would hurt the creature who could only love him.<br/><br/>He pulled her, and the shards would roll under her back to create new paths for her special blood to come out of. He wouldn't take her all the way out. Would that have broken her, to be given something completely her own, and then be declared unfit? He gathered her from the floor and hung her now tasseled hair on a hook meant for particularly heavy frames. She was ornamental, on the wall. A backhand to her minuscule tit, as he looked into her eyes. Are you having great fun now, horrid prince?<br/><br/>"You're such a defective model, aren't you?" he asked her as his face sought out her stomach, so his cheek could seek her warmth. Another confusion for her. "Maybe I'll take you back and just get a field of dandelions instead? At least they have a function in the right season." he looked up at her, and threaded his fingers with hers, one hand. Casually, he started bending the wrong way. "What are the procedures for returning you?"