Summons of a King [Open to Quincy, R] Dec 9, 2015 3:30:36 GMT -5
Post by Aitrus on Dec 9, 2015 3:30:36 GMT -5
The cold gray sky had been an unfortunate backdrop the last few weeks. The sound of rain smattering against the window in the small room above the bar was soothing in its own melancholic way. Turning his head so slightly he looked at the alarm clock on the small dresser next to the bed, barely nine o'clock, after such a long night he wondered why he was awake.
Not wanting to even leave the bed he pulled the body next to his own tighter. The smooth feeling of her skin pressed upon his. Her hair seemingly everywhere and managing to get in his face, he lifted his head and reached up with his hand to brush her hair down ever so slightly.
He felt a twinge of movement from her as he pushed the hair away from his face.
His hand falling back down around her mid drift and holding on as they lay with their legs entwined. It was only a matter of time before he would no longer be able to stay so quietly and would get up.
Walking down the hall to the shower he wondered where the world was leading, only a few weeks ago the rumors of doors opening up all over the world, doors that lead to the home of the Shinigami. Most of their kind had avoided it, after all they had done so for their entire lives. Forever attempting to keep the eye of the damn Shinigami off of them.
How pathetic they were, it seemed like they were even more cowardly now that Markus led them. Markus had not improved anything in their lives, he had not tried to even hide the fact that he had done it simply to garner more simpering loyal friends.
Those people disgusted him, graveling for scraps at a table like a dog.
Grabbing clothes from his dresser he saw his companion had flipped over, her body exposed to the dim light from the window. She would wake at some point and would leave embarrassed, running past him as he would be downstairs.
Buttoning up the dark blue gray cotton dress shirt, he wondered if it was time for him to finally get involved or if he could give Weylin more time. The boy was motivated, but he had seemingly dropped off the face of the world after Markus had been chosen to lead them.
The black tie meticulously wrapped around twice, flipped up and then down through the holes made by the wrapping, and pulled tight to bring the irresistible classy look that easily brought women up here. The final piece of the ensemble was the dark gray vest. A perfect look for a bartender, the late night job he currently held in between his more interesting jobs.
Heading downstairs he slipped on a pair of black oxfords. Luca already had a pot of coffee ready by the time he got down there. Grabbing the paper on the bar and a mug, he poured himself a nice cup of black coffee.
This was a sacred time for him and the old man, the morning before the hustle and bustle of this place. By lunch people would already be coming in and they would not stop until the end of the day. A sip of coffee warmed his body and helped him prep for the oncoming onslaught that would be tonight.
Ruffling through the paper it seemed that the Americans were losing their minds. Their candidates for president seemed to see who could top one another on being the craziest. Claiming that they had to protect themselves from these radicals.
He wondered how fast all these individuals would change their ways if they were to learn that there was a greater threat to them. The fact that these hollows existed and were more or less every version of a monster you could think of.
The coffee and the silence lasted for another thirty minutes or so before he had to freshen his cup up. On his trip back to the pot he grabbed a small tool kit from behind the bar along with a wooden box.
Back at his seat he took a drink of his coffee and opened the wooden box. Inside were two pistols, both were a HK P8. He picked one up and dropped the clip, pulling out a few newly bought components he began to take the clip apart and to reassemble it with the new pieces, adjusting the size that the ammunition would be.
Almost as if on cue the brunette came down the stairs avoiding both his and Luca's gaze. She flung open the door and immediately bumped into a rather large man. He had to have been nearly 200 cm. He had a patch sewn on his coat, the family crest of the Hohenfels.
He tensed up and set his tools down, he could tell Luca was equally at unease.
The man walked in, never said a word and dropped an envelope off at the table. Equally as silent he left, the moments of tension let up.
Picking up the letter he slid his finger inside and broke the wax seal of the Hohenfels, a family who never missed an opportunity to show off.
The letter was an invitation, to put it nicely, the truth was it was a demand for the appearance of him and his cousin at the Hohenfels family estate. It seemed the King had something he wanted to say and wanted an audience. The man was insufferable, but obviously there was something else to it all.
Those in attendance would be like him and his cousin, invited with a personal courier. Something was up and he did not like being blindsided like this, or being ordered about as Hohenfel seemed to think was capable of.
He tossed the letter over to Luca and waited for the old man's opinion. He had seen so much that he probably had some form of insight into this situation.
Two weeks had passed and now he was in the south, waiting inside the house on the Hohenfel estate. They had decided that his cousin would stay behind just in case this was not on the up and up. Maybe his hosts would take it as a slight, but they would deal with it.
Now all he had to do was to wait for the remaining guests to arrive, there was a few dozen or so already. Each one from a well known family or with something special about their family. He stood off to the side in the large sitting room, an old fashion in his hand.
1,108 Words - 22 GP
1,108 Total Words - 22 GP
1,108 Total Words - 22 GP