[Shadow] Night's Storms
Freeport's weather is unseasonably cold. A storm had blown up thursday night, rolling thunder, bright spears of lightening, and a cold torrential rain.
Inside the large Governor's Mansion the staff walks on tip toes as their Mistress sits in her office, the lights out, only a few candles here and there, in one hand is a crystal decanter, mostly empty, in the other is a glass of amber liquid.
She is wearing a silk nightdress, a deep emerald green in color, it falls to her ankles with a slit clear up to her hip, over it is a light silk robe of the same color, untied, and barely hanging onto her shoulder. The silk of the nightdress matches the color of her eyes, like emeralds, cold, hard, distant.
She stands slowly, her usual grace inhibited by a large intake of alcohol, she flexes her wings for balance and walks over to the open french doors that lead to the gardens. She slips out the door, a small smile coming to her lips as she watches the raging storm in the predawn light. The glass and decanter slip from her fingers, shattering on the small concrete pattio.
Inside the large Governor's Mansion the staff walks on tip toes as their Mistress sits in her office, the lights out, only a few candles here and there, in one hand is a crystal decanter, mostly empty, in the other is a glass of amber liquid.
She is wearing a silk nightdress, a deep emerald green in color, it falls to her ankles with a slit clear up to her hip, over it is a light silk robe of the same color, untied, and barely hanging onto her shoulder. The silk of the nightdress matches the color of her eyes, like emeralds, cold, hard, distant.
She stands slowly, her usual grace inhibited by a large intake of alcohol, she flexes her wings for balance and walks over to the open french doors that lead to the gardens. She slips out the door, a small smile coming to her lips as she watches the raging storm in the predawn light. The glass and decanter slip from her fingers, shattering on the small concrete pattio.