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The vysstichi’s skin was soft, like velvet, smooth ebony. She smelled of exotic spices, of something strange and mysterious. Her touch spoke of the underground world she had come from, that bizarre society where women ruled the world and were merciless killers, where love and death were one and the same, where the night lasted a lifetime. She was poisonous, she was one of them who was just pretending to be a courtesan, serving men, but her touch was so addictive that her poison seemed to be a small price to pay.
She let out a soft sigh as he played with her hair and leaned closer to him, a woman whose only purpose in this world seemed to be to please him.
„What do you know of Har’oloth?“ She spoke in barely more than a whisper, and her voice was honey sweet, but there was a certain shimmer in her eyes. „What have you heard?“
„Sisters?“ She arched an eyebrow and smiled. „There are a few. Three older than me, two younger and one that I killed. All as beautiful as I am. Do you want to visit them? I’m certain that they would be most delighted to see you.“
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