My scribe tells me I should start with … the only thing worse than being in a tower cell...
It's total bull. I'm not doing it. <1>
Look at my life! I can name half a dozen different types of dungeons and prisons, a few execution methods, and don't get me started on the actual torture methods I've endured.
Tower cells are practically cozy in comparison. That's not counting furniture, bathing facilities, the colorful hangings on the walls...
Oh, but yes, having a cell mate makes it worse... or better.
She was a small red skinned thing, dressed in blue velvet that brought out the violet in her eyes, contrasted nicely with the dark auburn of her hair (which is supposed to be in curls, I know, but instead it grew straight and long, because it wanted to)... but she absolutely thought having a cell mate made things worse.
"You can't put that in here with me." she said. "I'm just going to throw it out the window."
So, no, I'm not going into Hortiluk's family tree. It's not something of interest to either me or the narrator. And yes, there's an entire speech we skipped, about civic responsibility and not brawling young gods in public spaces.
BORING. You're welcome.
Expect humanity from Avara. Doll, not so much.
As always, thank you for your readership! It means more to me than being able to mow the lawn instead of look out a tower window and wonder what the staff is doing that they can't tend to that little jungle.