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He leaned into a furnace, tossing in dark-stained fabrics, sticky with ichor upon Ylavris' fingers as they slowly pulled away and became engulfed in fire. He looked down there briefly, down into the fiery pit; that rectangle-shaped chute, feeling heat upon his skin and a light sting in his eyes...
Laughing and carrying on, outbursts of humored speech erupting all over a brightly lit room. Smooth marble flooring shined with an immaculate cleanliness, hardly a noticeable smudge or scratch upon its beauty. Echoes of footsteps, the clattering of silverware and plates all embraced by obnoxious...