"Visiting Daughter again?" Grace smiled. "Alright then, let's go!"
Dasha was taken from the front entrance of the Les Murmures to the room of Daughter. Not trusted as a true member, a Whisper escort walked with him at all times, no exceptions. The hieroglyphics to her door glowed red. With a dramatic bow and flourish of her summer dress, Grace granted him entry.
No guards, no real protection. Only Daughter. She sat there, arms and legs crossed, looking like she was thinking. When Dasha entered, she remained in that same thinking pose.
Dasha's gaze drifted to the floor. "A carpet?"
"A Mamluk carpet," Daughter elaborated, "made by al-Sharif, a legendary Egyptian carpenter. But the placing is off, don't you think?"
