Chapter 607: The Scene of the Three: Her first meeting with him is...
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In the evening of wandering the harbor, the pilgrims lit the candles in their hands and began to pray. The square of Saint-Persiam looked like tender stars.
In a small building behind the restaurant in St. Piazza Restaurant, a gentle filtered airflow maintains the humidity of the room in the most suitable range, slightly cold but suitable for breathing.
The large mirror on the sideboard was spotlessly wiped, reflecting the last ray of warm orange light from the artificial sun.
A handful of fragrant white wild lilies are inserted in the crystal vase in front of the mirror. Their retro plant shape and freshness indicate that they are likely from the newly built Central Park hills.
The artificial breeze blew across the gauze curtain, and a girl was dreaming on the bed behind her.
Her dreams are not gentle, but rich and colorful.
Purple, indigo or other colors?
The sub-space tide that was changing brilliantly at a moment faster than thinking is screaming, but why does the tide scream at such a high frequency?
No, no, she suddenly realized that every gem scale and the sparkling fibers on each colorful feather were soul faces with open mouths screaming silently towards the greedy darkness.
The vague guttural voice was filled with wild, primitive and unordered enthusiasm.
The colorful dark tide was devouring them, it was like she lowered her head and found herself sitting on a drifting cliff. The cliff was very high and she was safe for the time being, but when she looked down, she saw that the cliff was moving slowly but unchanged towards the distance.
She realized that the end of this long moving end point was the charming colorful vortex just now.
But when she rubbed her eyes and tried to see carefully what it was, she saw the enamel that was so huge that she was so shiny that she could not describe, with the sweet juice that the soul was chewed, so the white enamel dyed pink and the huge pink below was-
The dry and neat ivory white linen sheet was unconsciously clutched, crumpled and torn by slender fingers. The cold sweat that kept ejaculated soaked the carefully cushioned towels behind her head and under her back. Her skin was so tough, but she frowned because the fabric was too rough for the bedding she was used to.
The captive of the spirit clan felt that her head was very painful. She still had not yet walked out of the maze of nightmare. Every pore on her body was oozing into the air the residue of past memories:
The dancers of the Silver Palace giggled and stretched out their veils to try to wrap around her wrists and ankles, so that she could dance with them and dance the endless dance. The laughter of the Prince of Happy and his favorite prince or his favorite concubine was soft and like thousands of crystal needles filled with anesthetics. Everything is irreversible after you accept them flowing into your blood vessels and even your heart;
The dazzling and exaggerated clown smile flashed through the shattered crystal prism, and hundreds of pieces at the end of the mirror passage turned to her, reflecting the sinister face of the Supreme Overlord - Victor's blade was pulling out of the throat of a consul of a conspiracy group who was dying with eyes, and the ruler of Comoros raised his eyes from under his twisted black crown and stared at her coldly and sharply.
When a huge worm nest overlord fell, the splashed blood and dust made her squinting eyes. Then the dance of the dead, which was intertwined by the succubus and the priestess, intertwined by her side, the tip of her nose chilled, and the sickle of the god of death who had not yet woken up swept across her eyelashes. The next blink, she saw her broken head being stepped into the dirty blood pool of the ground by her former colleagues. The collective intoxicated climax whispered terrifyingly in the sudden heat of emotions around her...
Another severe pain from deep in her brain tore the dark spirit girl's continuous shattering and high-hot dream, forcing her to surface the subconscious from the mellow essence of her delicious pain, and remove her perception from a completely different strange environment:
Too stable, too clean, too simple, too... not as exquisite as she is used to.
She took a deep breath of the air mixed with fresh plants and sunshine that Comoros would never have, and then made a perfect attacking preparatory posture before she fully woke up.
Her hands were empty as she tried to hold the familiar dagger handle, and then she found that the weight on her head was wrong: her long hair was untied when she was unconscious, and now they were strands stuck to the pillowcase of a large pillow. She still didn't remember her name, but her remaining instincts made her immediately make a basic judgment on her current body and environment.
She felt that the wounds that penetrated her chest and abdominal cavity had been stitched by a rough but accurate butcher. Although there were still many inaccurate reverse cycles, at least she could start to recover. The wound on her head was sealed by some primitive medical gel, with artificial skin and pressure nets on the outside, and disinfected, at least her brain is not at risk of flowing out now.
In addition to the fragile and slightly poisonous plant pheromone in the air with a temperature of twenty-four degrees, there was also a smell of engine oil and genetically modified primitive people that made her frown in unhappy.
Only then did she realize that she was staying on a bed of a genetically modified male monkey who was probably originally a crude low-race race. The corner of the blanket with a distinct smell of inferior race perfume and a faint gland smell of monkey's body was still hanging on her hips. A moment ago, she should have been lying straight on the bed and pillow, covering the blanket.
She lowered her head and her entire delicate face shrank - her own underwear was now covered with a wide, ill-fitting blue and white striped fabric, divided into tops and pants, and the buttons were buckled from below the waist to above the collarbone. Although it felt a bit restrained, it did not affect her movement at the moment - that was enough.
As she kicked hard away the thin velvet blanket embroidered with the skull-shaped emblem, her milky white skin surface had a burst of goose bumps of disgust at the fabric that had just given her warmth.
And the moment her naked soles touched the ground, the unique sense of primitiveness of the wooden ground made her pause.
Then she raised her pointed ears.
The sound of footsteps moving came from the second room from the right.
Although she didn't know why she was familiar with this sound, some instinct or residual knowledge told her that it was the unique movement of the pottery steel combat boots, mixed with the extremely slight buzzing of the servo motor.
It is a genetically modulated soldier invented by the corpse of monkeys, or in their language, Astart. The levels of these big soldiers are uneven, with strong and weak strength, and some will be blessed, which will probably be slightly more difficult to kill - a fragmented message passed through her mind.
The moving steps in the room were completely unconcealed. The movement was so loud that it could awaken the stupidest synthetic beast. Obviously, the owner of the footsteps was very comfortable here.
But what made her muscles tense was that she could hear other sounds, such as the sound of a covered footstep, the sizzling sound of a stripped muscle or the sizzling sound of a flamethrower falling on fresh limbs.
Her iris contracted and unfolded, and some instincts from the unknown past began to thaw: by the second second she had removed one of the legs of the steel lamp holder as a curved dagger, and the medical alcohol at the head of the bed was collected at the eleventh second and placed by the window as a small mechanism to attract attention. Finally, her eyes turned, finding the most suitable offensive route, and approaching the only lightly hidden door, silently and elegantly like a strong-brained cat.
The smell of flame torture inside was even stronger. There are also some witchcraft rituals of incense burning and the grease in the sacrifice body that is roasted to the melting rich and smoky fat.
As she reached the last step, a spasm suddenly came from under her ribs. A small string of bright red blood beads burst out in the wound where she had been wrongly sutured. But for her, the pain could be used to make her more deadly. She squeezed out the combat hormones and distributed them to every muscle and nerve, as accurately as she used to study and train.
...Where did she get trained in the past?
She hurriedly cleared this unnecessary question from her mind, pressed her back against the wall, stretched out one hand, and quietly pushed open the door. There is indeed an Astate inside.
And he was now facing her, stirring a very suspicious soup pot, his shoulder armor carved with an ode to a certain Great Primrose reflected an unnatural rainbow light, and the main reason why the voyeurs squinted their eyes again and found the direction of attack again was that although he seemed to be full of flaws, he was in a state of complete harmony.
Her instinct intuition tells her that if this harmonious equilibrium is broken, some unpredictable rebound danger may occur.
At this moment, Asatte spoke with his back to her.
"Oh...unbehaved patient, my lady under ward, this is not where you should come."
While speaking, Astart, who was busy performing some mysterious ritual in front of the flames, turned around.
The captives of the spirit clan frowned and were even more unhappy to find that although this face belonged to a monkey whom she thought was inferior and obviously had a crude and inferior genetic engineering, the pair of eyes looked to her and had a naive charm that she could not deny.
"This pointy eared lady, you stepped on my...recipe."
One solemnly raised the spatula of dripping vegetable soup, the other raised the legs of the iron lamp, and at the same time made an attacking gesture—
"Warning between the two sides is strictly prohibited during custody! Waste food during dinner time!"
No mistakes, one song, one content, one in 6, one book, one bar, one reading!
A servo skull descended from the ceiling, staring at them, playing warnings, and a new hymn written by the palace chief Master Rilano for the morning and evening prayer time of wandering the port.
When the overcooked grass roots, leaves and badly scorched meat poured into her respiratory organs, she suddenly realized that there was no real killing in the smell of this handsome primitive man, and that he was actually cooking. She was too unaccustomed to it that she would not be able to determine it so immediately-in the Comoros, even the flames of cooking were soaked in pain and horror.
"So can we wait for me to finish cooking and then sit down to eat?" The hateful handsome monkey opposite showed her a sparkling smile of four teeth just right. "The Primarchs all say that people are iron, rice is steel, and every meal must be eaten on time if possible."
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"Well... since it's so late, I'd better not call poor Tavitz. He has been smoky recently and his facial skin looks at least a hundred years older! I'll understand him. - Besides, I can handle it all because I'm the best swordsman Lucius of all time!"
The kitchen stove quickly made of engineered ceramic steel was steaming with ominous white mist, and Lucius's beautiful anti-gravity metal silk cloak was blown by the roar of the high-performance air suction pump.
Twelve units were purchased by Lucius privately (using tips, don't ask who gave the tips and where they were placed. The tips will automatically refresh them in various materials and forms on Lucius's power sword belt and thigh belt. He swears to everyone that he doesn't know what's going on, but it's true) The servo skull was divided into four groups and suspended from all angles in the kitchen, and used their mechanical eyes with image recording function to record this cooking ceremony cooked by Lucius from all angles.
"It is evidenced by Lord Ramizane's latest publication "The Ninth Edition of Dietary Health Book of Residents in the Port and Surrounding Areas"!"
The power sword of the former Emperor's son passed by a cutting board made of composite armor plates, and the perfect blade instantly split the composite reproductive organs of the Brassica Brassica species of the family Crusogena, which is larger than a human head, into exactly sixty-four portions.
"My cutting of this batch of vitamins and dietary fiber carriers is so perfect today! It didn't even destroy any excess cell walls, according to Lord Ramizane, it should have a good effect on your recovery."
The sharp ears of the Dark Eldar Captain shook above her new monitoring and positioning collar. She frowned and used the tips of her filed nails to lift three fresh red berries from the Solanaceae to spin on the tips of her fingertips. The scarlet juice sputtered out of the berries she split out like a scorpion tail needle, but was taken by a salad bowl made of armored glass before splashing onto the kitchen floor and Astart's power armor.
This made her frown her slender eyebrows in extreme discomfort.
"I don't like eating your so-called healthy dietary salad, monkey. I need more fresh blood, pain and other purer things to get back to health!"
"You woke up yesterday and had already drunk two liters of blood-stirred wine."
The former son of the emperor replied, "Those wines are good and new wines that Wanyou Port just produced last year. I bought them with my personal quota. And I have been feeding you with the patient porridge made as directed by Lord Ramizane, and you have indeed recovered. If you want to deny this, lie back and chisel your head again." He spit out a word in the most elegant and polite tone, "Bichi."
"The sad lowly and lowly primitive people need to act according to your imaginary gods at all times."
She was not displeased with this, but muttered to turn the topic away in a way that was absolutely gentle to a dark elves. Her light and flexible body stretched like a spirit cat, her toes lightly, and her whole body slid into the huge freezer like a ghost. "Real artists will season them with pain - such as peeling off your iron sheet, and then finely cutting out beautiful patterns of your skin... Listening to your moans and eating, this will greatly increase my appetite and heal faster."
"And - you monkeys call this cooking?" The captives of the spirit race suddenly turned and kicked over the dressing rack, and dozens of spices turned into smoke in the air to confuse the defenders. "In the great Comoros, the feed we feed slaves is more creative than this!"
A cluster of blue and purple sparks suddenly burst out from the pottery steel stove, and the shadows of the two intertwined into a war mural between Astate and the Dark Eldar.
The kitchen is a great place to meet for the first time.
(This chapter ends)