(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

whined about loaning him some cash for a visit to a proper mammy shack.
Life was good... until one day I met a most unusual woman while browsing
the Clerk's Ward.
Chapter 65
She was a tall, slender woman, willowy and delicate. It was clear she was out
of her element: as she sipped wine from a small ceramic cup, her eyes
looked about and she arched her neck high as if trying to look for someone.
Her facial features were elegantly exotic and the woman's ears, though
partially covered by her long hair, came to sharp points, like the wingtips of
a bird.
"Greetings."
The woman turned to face me, violet eyes flashing like flawless chips of
amethyst. Her speech was as music; a faint, musical tinkling, like a hundred
tiny crystal bells, sounded as she spoke. Each word lingered in my ears, as if
they were unwilling to relinquish the exquisite sound. "Nemelle turned to
face the scarred, dour stranger. She asked what he wished of her."
"Wow," Morte ogled.
"Pah!" Annah sneered at him. "Stop yer droolin', yeh leerin' skull."
"My, what a hot-blooded little chit! Starved for attention? I could drool over
you, too, if you're just jealous..." Morte started floating towards Annah,
making wet slavering noises.
"Get a hair's breadth closer, skull, an I'll see to it that not one o' yer
chatterin' teeth lies within a hundred paces of another!"
With that Morte stopped abruptly, turning away while muttering
unintelligibly.
624