Nine Levels: IntroductionIf ever more significant was a sky as red as the apple that stopped the white maiden's breath, then tonight, a simple Wednesday, would serve as a reminder of such significance. But as it were, a night in which fate itself would take a spin on loaded probability, would stand alone, unabated, waiting to taste and to bathe in such a sky as this.
Tapered fingers explore soft dark curls of hair, twisting one lock and pressing into it with ease a pin soon made invisible by another such lock. This process continues, labouring slowly, as perfection takes as long as it damn wants to get ready for the evening.
Her tongue glides over the edge of a pin that is held between her lips, which she no sooner tastes than she plucks from her mouth and slips expertly into her hair to hold in place another flawless loop. For a woman in her power, she could have commanded someone else do this chore for her, or, much less strenuous, magicked it so. But, in truth, Pandora savours the ridiculous amount of time