(no subject)
Title: Behind the Masquerade
Author: Icarus
Characters: Lord Beckett, Alastor
Synopsis: A brief, but tasteful evening with a host that's positively to die for...
Editors notes: Thanks for the positive feedback, guys. Im really glad you all enjoyed the last bit of Alastors handy work. This next one's a short one which I thought up on the train ride home from school. Its kind of short, but I wanted to get it off my mind before I left the house yet again. Enjoy!
During the later hours of the afternoon, the heavy, hot air had subsided and let way to a chilling breeze from out over the ocean. With a smile on his face, yet again hidden behind that crimson mask of his, he greeted several guests into his house, all descendants of the upper class but none of them important enough to mention. A light meal was being served whilst the aristocrats of the nation danced lively about the ballroom floor to cheerful music. Light footsteps lead the facade of nobility to sit down next to a fellow masked man whom he recognized just barely as Lord Beckett.
"Good evening, your lordship. I trust all is pleasing you?" Said Alastor politely.
One could see, regardless of the mask that he was a well educated man who was taller then most with an air of arrogance about his features. The hair atop his head was pitch black and spikey, being well kept and out of his face, as was the rest of his attire. The white shirt beneath the black over coat was a ironic, a notion Alastor would have to ignore since he found it to be uproariously funny.
A dark, contemplative smirk befell Beckett as he was asked and simply replied...
"Satisfactory, at best... but at least you have your manor of speech in check..."
"Thank you, sir, but I must admit I do not seek the approval of another. This is merely a party for a friend, nothing more. All to his specifications."
He smiled that devilish smile of his, despite the inability to see it.
"Might I make a suggestion to you, Sir?"
"What is it now? Be quick about it... You're beginning to bore me."
"Well, to put it simply, I suggest you politely decline when they offer you spirits."
"Why would that be, mister..."
"Crowe. Alastor Crowe, at your service."
"Well, Mr.Crowe, why would you recommend against the one part of the evening I would enjoy?"
"Because it's poison."
Just then Beckett let out a laugh, as did Alastor. Together in unison they chortled over the "joke" that was spoken just so recently. Turning to look around the room, Alastor thought quietly to himself "Ah if only you knew... Such a laugh you would have."
"What is it you do, Mr.Crowe?"
"Well, to put it simply, I'm a liar."
"So you're a prophet of sorts?" A scoff given at the end of the sentence indicated his sense of humor.
"...You could put it that way, yes."
A waiter came around, table to table with drinks in his hand and offered them to each of the guests, many of them eagerly nodding their head and accepting the glass. Looking to Beckett, Alastor seemed to nod his head as if arching a brow and declined a drink himself.
"Why exactly do you call yourself an out-right liar? So far you've spoken no mis-truth... I think you're hiding something."
"I enjoy a good riddle is all, sir. I don't speak direct lies, but I don't always speak the truth... A question such as yours has no answer, really. The thought of me outright saying I'm a liar could mean I was lying about that itself. And if I told you I was a beacon of truth, well surely your lordship would have picked it up. Time will prove me a liar, but not in a means you would understand unless deeply meditated upon."
"Despite your words, I think I will have to politely decline the offer for wine. How exactly will time prove you, Alastor?"
"Becoming cozy, are we? Using the first name of a stranger in only under half an hour seems rather odd... but I assume you have your reasons. In any case, Time is a funny thing, sir. It makes fools of us all. All you will see is that at several points tonight, I lied. But it would take the eyes of a clock maker to see the truth in my words."
Reaching into his coat, he looked at a black, shiny pocket watch when it was clicked open by those slender digits.
"Sorry to cut our time short, Lord Beckett, but I must be going. My work here is done and I must be off.... Until our paths cross again, your lordship."
"Goodbye, Mr.Crowe."
Another scoff as the man turned and headed for the door, turning around to look over the party which had seemed to die down shortly after dinner. People were moving far more sluggishly, with a burdened step even. Another few moments passed and just as he called the waiter over to order himself a glass of wine, everyone else in the same room went limp and lay dead on the floor. The words echoed in his head "Time will prove me a liar.. several points tonight, I lied..." Standing up and calmly walking outside, he found next to the staircase, just behind where Alastor had first been standing, greeting guests, was a man who'd gained a second mouth and was now laying dead in the small alcove. Two lies... The mention of poison was true... but being a joke, it was fiction. Only noblemen could appear at this party and the ex-thane of another province now lay bleeding in an alleyway. Beckett smiled inside his head, although the outer appearance was calm and collected, and called the local guards to clean up the mess.
Meanwhile, Alastor remained watching from far away, the mask he wore a majority of the time now resting on his shoulder, under a cloak.
"You'll need to pay closer attention to my words next time, Lord Beckett... Perhaps it may just make your evenings a little more interesting from now on."
Author: Icarus
Characters: Lord Beckett, Alastor
Synopsis: A brief, but tasteful evening with a host that's positively to die for...
Editors notes: Thanks for the positive feedback, guys. Im really glad you all enjoyed the last bit of Alastors handy work. This next one's a short one which I thought up on the train ride home from school. Its kind of short, but I wanted to get it off my mind before I left the house yet again. Enjoy!
During the later hours of the afternoon, the heavy, hot air had subsided and let way to a chilling breeze from out over the ocean. With a smile on his face, yet again hidden behind that crimson mask of his, he greeted several guests into his house, all descendants of the upper class but none of them important enough to mention. A light meal was being served whilst the aristocrats of the nation danced lively about the ballroom floor to cheerful music. Light footsteps lead the facade of nobility to sit down next to a fellow masked man whom he recognized just barely as Lord Beckett.
"Good evening, your lordship. I trust all is pleasing you?" Said Alastor politely.
One could see, regardless of the mask that he was a well educated man who was taller then most with an air of arrogance about his features. The hair atop his head was pitch black and spikey, being well kept and out of his face, as was the rest of his attire. The white shirt beneath the black over coat was a ironic, a notion Alastor would have to ignore since he found it to be uproariously funny.
A dark, contemplative smirk befell Beckett as he was asked and simply replied...
"Satisfactory, at best... but at least you have your manor of speech in check..."
"Thank you, sir, but I must admit I do not seek the approval of another. This is merely a party for a friend, nothing more. All to his specifications."
He smiled that devilish smile of his, despite the inability to see it.
"Might I make a suggestion to you, Sir?"
"What is it now? Be quick about it... You're beginning to bore me."
"Well, to put it simply, I suggest you politely decline when they offer you spirits."
"Why would that be, mister..."
"Crowe. Alastor Crowe, at your service."
"Well, Mr.Crowe, why would you recommend against the one part of the evening I would enjoy?"
"Because it's poison."
Just then Beckett let out a laugh, as did Alastor. Together in unison they chortled over the "joke" that was spoken just so recently. Turning to look around the room, Alastor thought quietly to himself "Ah if only you knew... Such a laugh you would have."
"What is it you do, Mr.Crowe?"
"Well, to put it simply, I'm a liar."
"So you're a prophet of sorts?" A scoff given at the end of the sentence indicated his sense of humor.
"...You could put it that way, yes."
A waiter came around, table to table with drinks in his hand and offered them to each of the guests, many of them eagerly nodding their head and accepting the glass. Looking to Beckett, Alastor seemed to nod his head as if arching a brow and declined a drink himself.
"Why exactly do you call yourself an out-right liar? So far you've spoken no mis-truth... I think you're hiding something."
"I enjoy a good riddle is all, sir. I don't speak direct lies, but I don't always speak the truth... A question such as yours has no answer, really. The thought of me outright saying I'm a liar could mean I was lying about that itself. And if I told you I was a beacon of truth, well surely your lordship would have picked it up. Time will prove me a liar, but not in a means you would understand unless deeply meditated upon."
"Despite your words, I think I will have to politely decline the offer for wine. How exactly will time prove you, Alastor?"
"Becoming cozy, are we? Using the first name of a stranger in only under half an hour seems rather odd... but I assume you have your reasons. In any case, Time is a funny thing, sir. It makes fools of us all. All you will see is that at several points tonight, I lied. But it would take the eyes of a clock maker to see the truth in my words."
Reaching into his coat, he looked at a black, shiny pocket watch when it was clicked open by those slender digits.
"Sorry to cut our time short, Lord Beckett, but I must be going. My work here is done and I must be off.... Until our paths cross again, your lordship."
"Goodbye, Mr.Crowe."
Another scoff as the man turned and headed for the door, turning around to look over the party which had seemed to die down shortly after dinner. People were moving far more sluggishly, with a burdened step even. Another few moments passed and just as he called the waiter over to order himself a glass of wine, everyone else in the same room went limp and lay dead on the floor. The words echoed in his head "Time will prove me a liar.. several points tonight, I lied..." Standing up and calmly walking outside, he found next to the staircase, just behind where Alastor had first been standing, greeting guests, was a man who'd gained a second mouth and was now laying dead in the small alcove. Two lies... The mention of poison was true... but being a joke, it was fiction. Only noblemen could appear at this party and the ex-thane of another province now lay bleeding in an alleyway. Beckett smiled inside his head, although the outer appearance was calm and collected, and called the local guards to clean up the mess.
Meanwhile, Alastor remained watching from far away, the mask he wore a majority of the time now resting on his shoulder, under a cloak.
"You'll need to pay closer attention to my words next time, Lord Beckett... Perhaps it may just make your evenings a little more interesting from now on."