Daughters of the Damned

Insanity? Avorra slightly scoffed. My dear, we are all mad here. She said with a sinister smile. Though, the one thing running through her mind was the tediousness of this one-sided conversation. It was clear that Avorra wasn't making much headway with the pompous princess. She was just about to give up on her efforts when the princess finally mentioned her interest being piqued. Now Avorra was getting somewhere, until she was compared to a hound. That somewhat got under her skin, and it took a supreme amount of effort to keep a straight face.

Why, of course I have my uses. Do you need me to play fetch? Do you need me to hunt? Avorra stopped while she was ahead. As much as she enjoyed the witty sarcasm, the princess already said she preferred directness over subtlety. So much different from the Great Game of Orlais. Name a target, and I will make them disappear without a trace. After I have my fun with them. Of course, the blame for why they disappeared would have to follow someone. Perhaps a rival house that needs their reputation ruined? What would you say to pitting two houses against each other, and you come out on top? Avorra prattled on.

This is only a taste of the delicate political machinations that I do so enjoy. You are a princess and it is your right to rule when your time comes. Anyone that debates that claim is an enemy to the throne, and such acts of treason can only be answered with extreme prejudice. Consider me your iron fist, Your Royal Highness.

Without warning, Avorra shifted into a Mabari hound in response to the earlier insult. As she waited for an answer from the princess, the bitch began unceremoniously licking herself clean.

Perhaps she truly was insane.

Or, at the very least, somewhat deranged.