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

Chapter 80
Don't be under any delusions that being a Sensate is all fun and games. Sure,
I've heard that there are, occasionally, orgies of feasting and wine and
sensuality that would make the most severe hedonist blush. But pleasure is
only a sliver of experience that can be found in the multiverse.
For breakfast I had sat down to a clacking mass of claws in a ceramic bowl.
The bits clacked, their motions quickening with the casual prod of a fork.
With each spasm the snapping tips would flick a speck of blood-colored
sauce across the table. When an order comes with a free antidote you know
it's going to be bad, but it was one of those obligations as a Sensate.
"Attention: Fall-From-Grace. I wish to address your body," Nordom chirped
in his sexless drone.
"Pardon me?" Fall-From-Grace raised a coy eyebrow as she lowered her tea.
"Your body. Your form. Your reason for selecting it. Why?"
A smile crept at the edge of her lips, "Why... I suppose I find it comforting.
Besides, I rather like the wings."
"It would be more practical for you to assume the form of a modron. It is
13.27% more efficient. Give or take +5.2%."
"Why, Nordom, are you trying to court me?" Her tone was teasing, and
edged on being flirtatious.
"It was not my intention to initiate legal action against you."
Do modrons blush? I was tempted to ask Morte, but he seemed as amicable
towards Nordom as my breakfast was to me.
"I have heard of you..." a woman murmured behind me. I turned around,
and just as I looked away one of the critters snapped down on my fingertip,
drawing blood.
I swallowed the oath that came to my lips and tried to smile. What came out
was more grimace than grin, "Greetings. And you are...?"
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