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Laun wished things would stay the same for at least a day before changing.
There were different curtains up in the main room, darker in color and thicker in fabric. There were pillows and blankets and flowers and little knick-knacks that had been brought in. A desk had been wedged in behind one of the couches, a small pile of messages and small boxes ignored next to a sheaf of clean writing paper. A small stack of books was next to the desk, some of the bindings new, some quite old.
Laun saw all this as she was puling her jerkin off and heading for the bathing chamber. That had been subtly changed, also. There was a new bench that had stacks of loopcloth toweling. There was a many-drawered chest next to the vanity and all the mess had been cleared, a few new pots of cosmetics lined up along the back. The paper flowers were still in their basket. Laun was happy about that as she sat on the ceramic privy and let her unhappy midsection empty it’s self.
“I told you the stew was bad.” »Read More