The cold room with gray stonewalls claimed its silence. No tapestries adorned the walls, no paintings to brighten, and no paint to change the wall color was seen just gray stone. In the room could be observed two huge sculptures of giant winged beasts with hawk heads and serpent bodies. Those stood adjacent to the door. A lone figure sat in the middle of the room on a carved gray stone seat. That seat had a high back with carvings of the hawk beast with serpents body. The figure had a square table in front of it with an assortment of objects the thing sitting in the chair needed.
Behind the chair was another undecorated door. This depressing entrance was where many servants came and left the room. This was the portal for common folk to gain the attention of the figure that so dominated. Then it spoke.
“Immortality creates boredom.” Grisum said as she reached out a fleshy boney gaunt hand to grab her five-inch diameter purple orb sitting on the table in front of her. Her pale skin hung off of her loosely as her boney fingers grasp the slippery surface, mocking life because she was undead. Scabs showed the depredations of time. Insects, and the inability to heal kept her looking decayed. Her burgundy, off-the-shoulder Vest and baggy pantaloons were moth eaten and ripped in several areas by her exposed bones. The only remnant of Grisum’s appearance was her rich black silver hair, though her skull hinted at a once beautiful face. She placed the orb in her lap then spoke to herself, “Three hundred years since I cast this curse on myself.”
