The Irony of Chaste
[A young woman dressed in a white suit walks around. She's not sure how she got here, but she knows she wants to leave. Her hand grips the handle of her cue case tightly, making mental notes of possible escape routes. Despite the beauty of the lush garden before her, she longed to be by her master's side. Every flower reminded her of his presence; his voice would soothe her as he spoke so highly of their language. Then he would present her violets, a symbol of loyalty. Sometimes he would give her a... white rose. And there was one just off the path.
She walked over to it and sat down to admire its petals. She had never seen one so perfect, not even in the Guild's garden. For a moment, she thought of what the flower meant again. Ah, yes. Purity... innocence. Such a strange flower to present an assassin. But she always accepted since it was a gift from him.]
I wish I could show this to you, my lord. I think you would appreciate how healthy its grown amongst all these other plants. If only I could figure out where I am...
She walked over to it and sat down to admire its petals. She had never seen one so perfect, not even in the Guild's garden. For a moment, she thought of what the flower meant again. Ah, yes. Purity... innocence. Such a strange flower to present an assassin. But she always accepted since it was a gift from him.]
I wish I could show this to you, my lord. I think you would appreciate how healthy its grown amongst all these other plants. If only I could figure out where I am...