A night at Home
He Sits in his apparatment in New York City. Replaying events in his head. His night at the gathering was brief. He heard about Zombies, and then left. Normally he would jump at the chance for Combat. For Practice. But Tonight was different. There was a Shift if the air.
What was the Line. Leverage Says you..I Sense a change in the wind say I.
He has not been Happy in monthes. But It's a different Kind of Unhappyness. It's Strange, Under Jeffereson he was unhappy towards the end. But that was only becuase of her claiming lentgh longer than normal. But, simantics. The person on his mind is Tellez.
Maria Tellez.
The Woman who has a sense of Irony about her.
She Delights in Cuasing issues, Scandals and Mayhem.
But Dispite everything. There is one thing that Seperates Tellez from Jefferson.
Respect and Follow Through.
Jefferson.
She may be Crazy and harsh. But she is still someone to be Respected. And When she is commited to do something she does it dispite the Cost. Why she ever let anyone push her out of Princedom is beyond him. But the only reason he can come up with is she didn't want it back.
He walks around his apparantment the events of the Last few monthes replaying in his head.
It's funny. The Invictus at all about Power and Control. But yet people within the Covenant are timid as mice some times. There is the value of waiting for the right time. But if you wait to long. someone Esle will Snatch it before you or it will rot away into nothingness.
And. If you push something to much evetually it will snap.
He looks out the window and watches the people. His reflection in the glass staring back at him. His just watches thinking.
He turns and walks out of the room, Turning off the light behind him.
It's a nice night, He needs practice.
It's Funny. A Year ago, if it was time for Practice, it would Practicing his voice. Now it's Practicing the blade.
He will not sing until it is over.
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now,--instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,--
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I,--that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;--
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore,--since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,--
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,--
About a prophecy which says that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
What was the Line. Leverage Says you..I Sense a change in the wind say I.
He has not been Happy in monthes. But It's a different Kind of Unhappyness. It's Strange, Under Jeffereson he was unhappy towards the end. But that was only becuase of her claiming lentgh longer than normal. But, simantics. The person on his mind is Tellez.
Maria Tellez.
The Woman who has a sense of Irony about her.
She Delights in Cuasing issues, Scandals and Mayhem.
But Dispite everything. There is one thing that Seperates Tellez from Jefferson.
Respect and Follow Through.
Jefferson.
She may be Crazy and harsh. But she is still someone to be Respected. And When she is commited to do something she does it dispite the Cost. Why she ever let anyone push her out of Princedom is beyond him. But the only reason he can come up with is she didn't want it back.
He walks around his apparantment the events of the Last few monthes replaying in his head.
It's funny. The Invictus at all about Power and Control. But yet people within the Covenant are timid as mice some times. There is the value of waiting for the right time. But if you wait to long. someone Esle will Snatch it before you or it will rot away into nothingness.
And. If you push something to much evetually it will snap.
He looks out the window and watches the people. His reflection in the glass staring back at him. His just watches thinking.
He turns and walks out of the room, Turning off the light behind him.
It's a nice night, He needs practice.
It's Funny. A Year ago, if it was time for Practice, it would Practicing his voice. Now it's Practicing the blade.
He will not sing until it is over.
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now,--instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,--
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I,--that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;--
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun,
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore,--since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,--
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,--
About a prophecy which says that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.