Table Eleven at an 1894 Hallowmas Dinner Party

Vena leans back in her chair, twirling her dinner knife between her fingers like a majorette might a baton. &quotFrom the tales one hears, Mr. Wines is almost as stingy as Stones. Though personally I find Pages and Fires to be rather generous, given incentive. But any dealings with the Masters is something not taken lightly; no matter their affability I doubt there’s a single one amongst them that cares for mere mortals as anything beyond favoured pawns and playthings.&quot

She sips from her glass once more and then takes a moment to examine her reflection in the deep honey-coloured liquid. &quotI am going to play the pedant here and say dreams. Despite what a shame it would be, wines can be replaced by other vintages and beverages, lesser though they might be, and books can be replaced by scrolls, wax tablets, and so on; but dreams, and nightmares, really have no substitute.&quot

[quote=Gremlin]
And some nights I lie awake thinking that dreams can’t possibly belong to the Masters…but then who do they belong to?&quot[/quote]
Vena smiles. Behind the serpent mask her eyes sparkle, like embers glimpsed through an emerald. &quotWho indeed? The Parabola is a most fascinating place.&quot