Post by King Nuada Silverlance on Jul 2, 2009 13:36:54 GMT -7
Date: March 3rd, Tuesday Week One
Time Frame: Night
Place: Council room
Status: Nuada’s messengers, the general, a few other fae
The curl of the wind sent strands of silvery hair into the air and the prince closed his eyes. The easy lines of his brow tightened and the weary hatred distorted the ethereal features. It was a false wind, beneath the ground, the air was stale and old made by the likes of machines made by Man. In his low crouch, he balanced on the balls of his feet and ran a pale fingers through an inky black puddle at his feet and the foulness smelled of oil and a wrenching bitterness. The elf leaned forward and stared at his blurry reflection in the glass like tar and turned his attention towards a small patch of wilting flowers. Once a brilliant shade of the purest blue, the petals had browned and the leaves curled tightly against themselves as a last attempt to survive. Nuada rested his palm against the dirt and rocks and felt the earth weep.
Rising to his feet, the elven prince stalked across the open and quiet council room, now bared of his councilmen and enemies. Even the Chamberlain had been banished from his normal hovering, kept in check by his towering troll companion. The butcher guards, he glanced briefly at them, they would not move until called forth to die to for him. The events of the council had felt like months ago rather then days and he had taken his time to choose a select few that would bear his message to his spirited away sister. Nuala. Why had she chosen the same exiled path as him, she could do no good towards the kingdom she had forsaken… for him.
Nuada curled his hands behind back and cradled a wrist in the curve of his fingers and he walked in a slow circle to admire the walls of the hall he had played in as a child. The sinewy black jacket he wore was snug around his chest and he felt the buttons pull slightly. He had no time for frivolous decorations and yet he let himself be dressed up and fawned over until he grew tired of it and sent the servants scattering by his bellowing voice. The golden emblem of a blooming tree and roots at his waist tucked into the dark red sash was all he needed.
His hand picked messengers would be arriving shortly for his guidance and instruction. They would leave in the night, using the natural darkness as cover. Wink would go with them, as both guide and guardian. He had entrusted his friend to protect his people and go in his place. He would not go back, there was no fear of the Bureau and it’s people but his demonic brother would elicit a new wave of anger and he would make sure the ape would remain fallen under his blade.
Time Frame: Night
Place: Council room
Status: Nuada’s messengers, the general, a few other fae
The curl of the wind sent strands of silvery hair into the air and the prince closed his eyes. The easy lines of his brow tightened and the weary hatred distorted the ethereal features. It was a false wind, beneath the ground, the air was stale and old made by the likes of machines made by Man. In his low crouch, he balanced on the balls of his feet and ran a pale fingers through an inky black puddle at his feet and the foulness smelled of oil and a wrenching bitterness. The elf leaned forward and stared at his blurry reflection in the glass like tar and turned his attention towards a small patch of wilting flowers. Once a brilliant shade of the purest blue, the petals had browned and the leaves curled tightly against themselves as a last attempt to survive. Nuada rested his palm against the dirt and rocks and felt the earth weep.
Rising to his feet, the elven prince stalked across the open and quiet council room, now bared of his councilmen and enemies. Even the Chamberlain had been banished from his normal hovering, kept in check by his towering troll companion. The butcher guards, he glanced briefly at them, they would not move until called forth to die to for him. The events of the council had felt like months ago rather then days and he had taken his time to choose a select few that would bear his message to his spirited away sister. Nuala. Why had she chosen the same exiled path as him, she could do no good towards the kingdom she had forsaken… for him.
Nuada curled his hands behind back and cradled a wrist in the curve of his fingers and he walked in a slow circle to admire the walls of the hall he had played in as a child. The sinewy black jacket he wore was snug around his chest and he felt the buttons pull slightly. He had no time for frivolous decorations and yet he let himself be dressed up and fawned over until he grew tired of it and sent the servants scattering by his bellowing voice. The golden emblem of a blooming tree and roots at his waist tucked into the dark red sash was all he needed.
His hand picked messengers would be arriving shortly for his guidance and instruction. They would leave in the night, using the natural darkness as cover. Wink would go with them, as both guide and guardian. He had entrusted his friend to protect his people and go in his place. He would not go back, there was no fear of the Bureau and it’s people but his demonic brother would elicit a new wave of anger and he would make sure the ape would remain fallen under his blade.
