WHO: The Master and his Boy WHEN: Monday, June 20th, evening WHERE: The catacombs beneath the city WHAT: The Master, in search of his Boy, follows the sound of Despair.
Gilbert was no stranger to the depths of the underground. While his clothes made him stand out, his reputation offered more than a little protection and since tonight he wasn't actually looking for trouble, he felt that tonight he would be safe
( ... )
A weapon deemed unnecessary (momentarily) as the little silhouette sprang sideways and, in a bizarre display of comedic panic, incapacitated himself by seemingly tripping over his own feet and likewise his own tangled, once flailing limbs.
Not a nameless braggart then. The face that turned away from the shine of his lantern was as known to Gilbert as blood or wine. Raivis bit his lip, silenced, until some internal pressure proved too much for him and forced him to offer the faintest, "G-good... Good evening to you, Master."
"Raivis?" Gilbert said, honest-to-God shocked for once in his life. And that was coming from a man who grew up with Francis Bonnefoy.
Carefuly, he picked through the grim and muck, dimming his lantern a little because it seemed to have scared the Latvian more than Gilbert himeself and stood in front of the fallen figure.
His cane joined the lantern in one hand before he offered the other one, face still frowning. "What are you doing down here? Singing no less..."
It was an automatic response, really, out before Raivis could stopper it with a fist.
"I-If it was so terrible, then by all means, cut out my t-tongue or go back the way you'd come."
They blinked at one another and Gilbert's offered assistance went mysteriously ignored as his companion ducked his head, buried his face in his palms as he shook his head to and fro. "I'm sorry, I'm s-so- f-forgive me, I d-didn't mean to say that I- Y-you- I wasn't expecting you to come here..."
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A weapon deemed unnecessary (momentarily) as the little silhouette sprang sideways and, in a bizarre display of comedic panic, incapacitated himself by seemingly tripping over his own feet and likewise his own tangled, once flailing limbs.
Not a nameless braggart then. The face that turned away from the shine of his lantern was as known to Gilbert as blood or wine. Raivis bit his lip, silenced, until some internal pressure proved too much for him and forced him to offer the faintest, "G-good... Good evening to you, Master."
Not 'Gilbert'. Master.
Reply
Carefuly, he picked through the grim and muck, dimming his lantern a little because it seemed to have scared the Latvian more than Gilbert himeself and stood in front of the fallen figure.
His cane joined the lantern in one hand before he offered the other one, face still frowning. "What are you doing down here? Singing no less..."
Reply
"I-If it was so terrible, then by all means, cut out my t-tongue or go back the way you'd come."
They blinked at one another and Gilbert's offered assistance went mysteriously ignored as his companion ducked his head, buried his face in his palms as he shook his head to and fro. "I'm sorry, I'm s-so- f-forgive me, I d-didn't mean to say that I- Y-you- I wasn't expecting you to come here..."
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