<span style="font-size: 12px"><b><div style="text-align: center">▬ ♣ ▬​</div></b></span><br/><br/>The letter could have entered a contest in pretentiousness and make second place – it simply read:<br/><br/>“<span style="color: Sienna"><i>Rise and shine, pet. Get something to eat. When done, apply the perfume inside the cupboard.</i></span>”<br/><br/>It was the lipstick kiss on the bottom that judges in pretentiousness would highlight: It gave you the impression that whoever wrote this letter thought she was more ironically amusing than she was.<br/><br/>The letter stopped with an order – and it reminded Tamaska of how little she actually felt a perfume was needed: Despite the onset of memories of her spicy night in the “care” of her two jailors, she felt clean and tended. Somebody had gone out of their way to wash her and apply some caring oil for her skin, leaving her with a faint, pleasant odor of flowers of some sort.<br/><br/>The food was heaven-sent, every material handled with professional care. The honey-mead was warming and sweet, with a rich aftertaste.<br/><br/>The droning “thump-thump-thump” provided dinner music – the regularity suggested it had to be some-sort of engine. But if Tamaska really sharpened her ears and strained, she could just make out vague voices from above, muffled by the thick wooden ceiling.<br/><br/>Five minutes passed and nothing happened – ten minutes, fifteen minutes: But no visitors came to check or chastise the trolless.<br/>Three things caught her eyes when examining her surroundings closer:<br/><br/>♣ - Closest to her bed, on the wall on the other side of the bars, a portrait hung depicting a human. It was a large portrait in a round, ornamental wooden frame. From where she sat, details were blurry but he seemed vaguely familiar - as if she had seen him not long ago: There was something with his beard and that long face that rattled her memory, poking her curiosity.<br/><br/><b>♣ - A closer inspection of the Rosetta-window revealed a tiny round piece of clear glass in the middle – occasionally a shadow passed the tiny window within the window. An oogle through the eye-sized looking hole might give her a better idea where she was in the world. Oh, and didn’t’ she hear a voice much clearer through the window?</b><br/><br/>♣ - A small wooden tablet formed in a conspicuous octagon shape resting between two flower-vases caught her attention: Prim handwriting was carved into its fine surface suggesting a feminine hand. The small octagon tablet was painted in reddish colors ranging from burnt black to striking red. If Tamaska could read orcish, she could barely make out the header reading “Palace”. If not, it would be the carved mask just beneath the header that caught her attention.<br/><br/>♣ - Of course, if people and their lacking manners let her wait, she might just make the best of it: nothing like a good nap after a good meal. She wasn’t going anywhere unless sprouting sudden, unnatural boosts of strength and all that bed would go to waste if unused, wouldn’t it? With her “luck”, she wouldn’t be given much more time to sleep.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>