“The orbs of Hyeth,” I say. It causes me no small amount of pain to speak of our world, but it is also a comfort.
“Yes, that is what they remind me of. A truly bad omen.” Our eyes meet once more, and he sweeps his hand out. “Did you help do this?”
“I did. Dante requested it. He is very short and small. They cannot reach the tall places.”
Rathyn makes an agreeable trill. “They are small and weak. But we love them nonetheless.”
I say nothing, but my hearts do. They knock against my chest in an uneven rhythm.
“I do like your Dante, though. He made me a sex toy. I enjoyed it very much.”
I brighten at that. “He is very talented with his hands.”
“He is, but not as much as my Everest.”
I narrow my gaze at him, feeling slightly offended. He does not know how well Dante uses his hands and fingers, how good he is at stroking my cock. But I do not voice this. Rathyn is my superior. I owe him my life.
“It does not matter. I would like to speak to Dante about a new item to procure. He has a vivid imagination…”
His words are cut off when Everest appears at his side, sliding up and placing an arm around his waist.
“What are you guys talking about all quiet?”
“We do not speak quietly. We just do not speak as loudly as everyone here.”
“Eeeteeelieenns,” I say, and Everest gasps.
“Right! Italians. Ha!” He laughs loudly and grins at me proudly.
“I do not like Italians then. They are far too noisy and eat food that looks like blood worms,” Rathyn says.
“Oh my god, stop it. Right now. Don’t insult them.”
“I find some of their food to be quite interesting. One is stacked quite high. I do not know how they manage. It must be an art,” I say in Eretharian.
Everest glances at me and then Rathyn. “What did he say?”
He flicks his ears. “Just that their food preparation is an art. If this is so, I do not see it.”
Everest makes a face and then rolls his eyes. “Wait till you try the dessert. Then you’ll shut your yapper.”
“I do not yap.”
“You do too.” He leans forward and says, “You yapped all fucking day about that cock sleeve.”
Rathyn growls. “I did like that. Very much. It was unique. I shall speak to Dante about another toy.”
“No, no. Not right now. This party is not about you.”
“No, it is about death. Who, may I ask, is dying?” Rathyn’s eyes scan the room.
“That would be me!” Gia says, walking up to Rathyn and beaming at him. “I’m thirty-seven. Might as well put me in a grave.”
“With the way you run into walls and trip over sidewalks, I’m surprised you haven’t died yet,” Amara adds, pulling Gia into a hug.
I lean toward Rathyn and add in Eretharian, “And she enjoys burning food in the meecerowave.”
“Did you just say microwave? God, why is everything you say so cute?” Gia asks before turning toward Rathyn. “Do you say cute things, too?”
