[ Accidental Visual ] We Walk This Lonely Road
Godric is making the bed. A silky sheet carefully tucked, a pillow fluffed, a blanket smoothed. His hands move at a human pace, his touch unhurried and almost reverent. It isn't his bed. The colors and ornaments lending personality to the room are not to his taste.
He moves on to the dresser and proceeds to fold away a small pile of clothes left on the surface. They are too large and too dark to be his clothes. The drawer closes with a thump, too loud in the empty room.
His hands linger, and he stands unnaturally still for a long moment before casting his gaze around the dim room, looking for loose ends. He finds only the recording tablet, and expresses no surprise. He lifts it and brings it with him as he leaves, flicking off the lights and shutting the door quietly.
"Eric Northman has gone home," he addresses Taxon. "Fangtasia has gone with him. If you were employed there, you may contact me for other options."
The broadcast ends.
He moves on to the dresser and proceeds to fold away a small pile of clothes left on the surface. They are too large and too dark to be his clothes. The drawer closes with a thump, too loud in the empty room.
His hands linger, and he stands unnaturally still for a long moment before casting his gaze around the dim room, looking for loose ends. He finds only the recording tablet, and expresses no surprise. He lifts it and brings it with him as he leaves, flicking off the lights and shutting the door quietly.
"Eric Northman has gone home," he addresses Taxon. "Fangtasia has gone with him. If you were employed there, you may contact me for other options."
The broadcast ends.