Rikae stepped through the doorway carefully, so as not to snare her long silver-gray cloak on the splinters...and broken nails...in the lintel. She went to the window and pushed back the yellowing curtain; a sunbeam pierced the dim interior; bewildered specks of dust danced erratically in the light.
She stood silently, then turned to Mac with a slight smile.
"Thou wenyst I knowe nott thy councell; Butt I warn the; I know itt, every deall."
She turned and addressed the whole room:
"I don't trust this
Mac person. He speaks of a knife...then says he doesn't have one! I say we search him.
And what is this talk of "less developed characters" from
Esspiem? I never quite trust someone who starts off with a joke about his or her own vulnerability, combined with a long speech reiterating the situation at hand.
But I do agree; we should all state openly for whom we are voting. If the vampires' non-votes sway the results, it may even give us a trail to follow.
There is still hope..."