Much to consider - Narrative
The Regent of Paradise sat at his desk, silently fuming. His large black and white cat lounged in his lap, snoozing and purring as he absently rubbed her ears. He'd dimmed all the lights in his study, preferring the dimness to match his black mood.
This was bullshit. Ever since his last conversation with Heather, he'd been in a constant state of the peeves. Mostly because he felt so damned helpless. People in his city were dying, and he was powerless to stop it. But hadn't he been through this so many times before?
A long weary sigh left him, curling around the darkened room. The cat yawned and rolled over.
The Regent propped his forehead on his hand and closed his eyes. It was really starting to tell on him, this unending vigil. Over and over, through the countless years and decades, blurring into centuries. Would it ever end? Would redemption ever be given? Only time would tell, alas.
He'd tried it all; booze, drugs, anything to alleviate the suffering of watching from the proverbial castle window, for he wasn't allowed to intervene at all. He was tasked to do his damned job, and do it well; to keep the cattle lowing at the gate, ripe for the plucking.
And the pain for disobedience still cut like knives.
He sat ensconced in the dark for perhaps an hour, before he wearily lifted his head and forced his expression into one of harsh determination. The guard at the door immediately straightened to crisp attention as the Regent's glittering gaze found him and the boy saluted to the crisp gravelly order.
"Bring Heather to me. Now."
This was bullshit. Ever since his last conversation with Heather, he'd been in a constant state of the peeves. Mostly because he felt so damned helpless. People in his city were dying, and he was powerless to stop it. But hadn't he been through this so many times before?
A long weary sigh left him, curling around the darkened room. The cat yawned and rolled over.
The Regent propped his forehead on his hand and closed his eyes. It was really starting to tell on him, this unending vigil. Over and over, through the countless years and decades, blurring into centuries. Would it ever end? Would redemption ever be given? Only time would tell, alas.
He'd tried it all; booze, drugs, anything to alleviate the suffering of watching from the proverbial castle window, for he wasn't allowed to intervene at all. He was tasked to do his damned job, and do it well; to keep the cattle lowing at the gate, ripe for the plucking.
And the pain for disobedience still cut like knives.
He sat ensconced in the dark for perhaps an hour, before he wearily lifted his head and forced his expression into one of harsh determination. The guard at the door immediately straightened to crisp attention as the Regent's glittering gaze found him and the boy saluted to the crisp gravelly order.
"Bring Heather to me. Now."