Kael: Gwen. What is the situation?
Guinevere: One that will require you to say fuck the rules, and one I have no right asking for your help but I am anyways.
Kael: Where are you?
Marek's eyes moved to Solandris. The glance was brief, a fraction of a second, the kind of look an employee gives a boss when the pitch isn't landing and the client hasn't picked up the brochure.
Filed.
Guinevere: Solandris's tent.
The jester's bells slowed into a sickening lullaby rhythm.
"Jingle jangle, tattle tale,
Mindlinks crack and mindlinks fail."
Lovely. Guinevere had the distinct feeling that her mindlink did not go through.
The jester touched Guinevere's face with its hand. Like a solid object would, not a ghost. That was different than before.
"SKREEEEEEEEK."
The noise that came from its mouth sounded like a dozen tea kettles screaming at the same time.
She looked straight ahead in its eyes like it wasn't there.
