The moon’s more color than the sheet-pale lock-hole lass. Thrasja, shaking, reaches for her confiscated pendant. Likely already threatened – their violinist must turn letter.
Ambarin brings bread, tells her: “It’s not cookie.” Then: “You live in The Bottle, with Audaliufs. Little monkey counts snowed-in boats at wharf.” She stares. “I’ve tailed you,” he admits.
“But – ”
“‘Tis seeding peaches: they’d chair, rope and fork you for Adris. ‘T’isn’t about you or money or...” Helpless tears begin. “I could help.”
One moment, she’s his, ‘til his driving ‘if’ shows. She wavers; his crystal image shatters.
Self-sickened, Ambarin abandons her.
Prompts: bottle, wharf, violin, moon, monkey, fork, hole, lock, sheet, pendant, crystal, cookie, letter, money, tail, chair, bread, seed, snow, peach, rope, boat