Post by Victor Bolton on Apr 5, 2013 15:54:17 GMT -5
It was a thing of true beauty. Oh how such things would just fall into place. The Queen would walk into the wolf's den and offer herself up. Dread stood in the Main room of his chamber. He moved his eyes from the rug covered black walls to the ancient furnishings he had brought in. It reminded him of his living home. At that moment, and that moment only he allowed a smile to touch his mouth. Only for a second.
With three long steps Victor moved to a plush chair and settled himself down in it. His narrow and cold eyes flicked over to the table beside him and the book that rested atop it. His long skeletal hand reached out and grasped his journal. He drew it up to his lap and let the pages flutter open to the newest blank one. Victor's left hand reached into his vest pocket and drew out a pen. Then he began writing. He made a accurate account of the meeting, as short lived as it had been, and all of his thoughts. Though, he made sure to keep out all thoughts he might have had of treason. it wouldn't serve to have those thoughts documented. No. He would make his journal the perfect example of his loyalty. No one would use his private thoughts against him after all.
As he finished the very last sentence with a flourish he heard something he hated. Noise. It was his in home servant speaking lightly at his closed door. "Lord Bolton, someone is here to see you." Victor could hear the fear layed in the hollow's voice. He had no intention of harming him but the fear was a good thing. kept him loyal and useful. the instant your servants don't fear you they become useless. Victor could not abide useless things.
Victor carefully set his book aside and stood, his chain mail rustling lightly under his vest. Three stride took him back to the door. He opened it with a silent grace and nodded to the cowering hollow on the other side. Lord Bolton moved past him and down the flight of steps to his vising chamber. His boots made nearly no sound as his descended the steps with a casual haste. No need to keep guests waiting. Once he rounded the corner into his lavishly furnished seating room his eyes locked on his guest. Victor's face held no sign of emotion or interest but that was only a mask. He was interested in this person. "What brings you to my seating room, eh?" he asked with a natural respect and in a volume barely above a whisper.
With three long steps Victor moved to a plush chair and settled himself down in it. His narrow and cold eyes flicked over to the table beside him and the book that rested atop it. His long skeletal hand reached out and grasped his journal. He drew it up to his lap and let the pages flutter open to the newest blank one. Victor's left hand reached into his vest pocket and drew out a pen. Then he began writing. He made a accurate account of the meeting, as short lived as it had been, and all of his thoughts. Though, he made sure to keep out all thoughts he might have had of treason. it wouldn't serve to have those thoughts documented. No. He would make his journal the perfect example of his loyalty. No one would use his private thoughts against him after all.
As he finished the very last sentence with a flourish he heard something he hated. Noise. It was his in home servant speaking lightly at his closed door. "Lord Bolton, someone is here to see you." Victor could hear the fear layed in the hollow's voice. He had no intention of harming him but the fear was a good thing. kept him loyal and useful. the instant your servants don't fear you they become useless. Victor could not abide useless things.
Victor carefully set his book aside and stood, his chain mail rustling lightly under his vest. Three stride took him back to the door. He opened it with a silent grace and nodded to the cowering hollow on the other side. Lord Bolton moved past him and down the flight of steps to his vising chamber. His boots made nearly no sound as his descended the steps with a casual haste. No need to keep guests waiting. Once he rounded the corner into his lavishly furnished seating room his eyes locked on his guest. Victor's face held no sign of emotion or interest but that was only a mask. He was interested in this person. "What brings you to my seating room, eh?" he asked with a natural respect and in a volume barely above a whisper.
