“Hello, witchling,” he said. Her full sensuous mouth tightened slightly, either in a repressed grimace or smile, he couldn’t tell. But she sat up, her moon-white hair sliding forward - her chains clanking. “Hello, princeling,” she said.
Two mosaic glass slices joined: a grotesque male head, frontal on a dark-blue field, perhaps intended as a tragic mask. The top edge of the panel is framed with an opaque white and a pale-red rod fused. In turn the ensemble is inset into ancient wood.