DJM1968

"I hear you impressed the Huntsman," the Artist said as she piped intricate designs onto the morning's cake. The Chatelaine's shoulder still burned, the stitches the Chirurgeon had hastily snarled into the flesh on his shoulder hadn't healed, not nearly, and he glared daggers at the Artist.  She didn't seem to take notice. Breakfast was delivered without hitch, but when his master had bathed, dressed, he called to him. -Bring the Artist who iced the cake beneath the Arena.- David was startled by this request, but he simply nodded his head, hurried from the room. "What did you do to the cake?" he hissed when he found her. She blinked at