Yes it was extremely difficult sneaking out of the gilded tower at night to attend secret radical coven meetings.
And there was only so long she could maintain that her favorite personal Botox practitioner worked weird hours to align with Chinese meridian times. Her husband was powerful. The drones circling the tower irritated her ravens.
But few knew that her powers as a seventh generation sorceress were growing. The Mugwort infused salt mixed with crushed diamonds from old Babylon did more to keep him out of her bedroom and chambers than any man wrought legal prenuptial contract.
And absolutely nobody knew that her new personal security person was part of a clandestine paranormal military unit.
She had recently come up with a plan, macabre and garish but with potential. What, she would say to her husband after she had mixed in 50g ketamine with a vial of “come to me boy” potion and some crushed Transylvanian thorns into his soda, would get maximum television exposure, guaranteed massive global audience, that nobody would ever surpass?
She kept it up with the Jackie O outfits and watched constant re-runs of old Samurai movies, hoping he would get an idea. A very high concept.
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