The old geezer wanted to say hello...blackjewelmaleFebruary 21 2013, 05:13:51 UTC
At some point, he mind spy an older gentleman in a long, mantled black coat and a wide-brimmed black fedora, carrying an umbrella that shades his head and shoulders, and leaning on a walking stick with a silvery dragon's head. He limps a bit, but there's still a quiet vigor about him and a jaunty sort of dignity.
And the snow at his feet just might be sweeping aside slightly, not enough to uncover the grass, but enough to smooth his way...
Re: The old geezer wanted to say hello...rupert_hentzauFebruary 22 2013, 00:55:47 UTC
Rupert is curious about everyone he meets, and this gentleman in particular carries himself with the sort of dignity that suggests he has money or power. He's a little too old even for Rupert's varied tastes, but Rupert would certainly be willing to make an exception for the right amount of advantages in exchange.
He doesn't notice the odd behavior of the snow--Rupert is only observant on the topics that interest him, and he isn't yet accustomed enough to magic for his brain to recognize it.
He'll cut a cheeky bow as their paths approach. "Good day, my lord."
Re: The old geezer wanted to say hello...blackjewelmaleFebruary 22 2013, 05:44:57 UTC
The old gent turns to Rupert, smiling a bit. "And it is a good day," he replies. "You have good eyes as well, young man.
"I am Saetan SaDiablo, former Warlord Prince of Dhemlan and once the High Lord of Hell and Steward to the Queen of Ebon Askavi, though it seems fate or the powers in this realm had other plans for my retirement..."
Those are quite a few titles. Rupert's surprised and a touch skeptical, although he did just meet Queen Guinevere, so a Warlord Prince and High Lord of Hell isn't entirely impossible.
This also isn't exactly what Rupert expected of Satan la Diable--although he's aware that isn't the pronunciation he just heard.
"As I," Rupert says, unusually flustered. It takes him a moment to conceal his confused surprise. "Rupert of Hentzau, from the Kingdom of Ruritania."
His bow this time is a little bit more respectful, and quite a bit more confused.
Well, here she is. For once, she isn't out - the winter takes its toll on her, not on her body, but on her spirit, and at times, like her brother, she retreats into intellectual pursuits to find respite from the cold dampness that is winter at the Mansion.
And so Galadriel will be found in the library, pouring over a tome. She isn't writing in it, but consulting, reading with slow determination the history of men, in their tongue.
She's found a chronicle of the fourth age, and is absolutely fascinated by the future of the land she will never see again.
Tired from a day of trudging through snow in search of prey or diversion, Rupert is freshly bathed and dressed, but too weary to go in search of company or adventures. He retires to the library--he's been reading more than ever, finding that this place leaves him with too much time on his hands and not enough of his preferred diversions--only to find the prey he seeks waiting for him.
He is out of sorts and barely remembers how to be charming. Sprawling on a couch, he props his head up and watches her. "Hail, lady."
Someone else might have responded humorously with “Hail lord,” but Galadriel is a serious brand of elven lady, and so instead, she looks up from her Westeron (not Westerosi) reading, and raises a quizzical eyebrow at the sprawled Atan.
The question slips out of her lips like running water, quiet and alien, as is the rest of her. “Is all well, my lord?”
"It is," he says, considering her. "I have been walking the grounds searching for a way to return to my homeland. Everyone I encounter says that there is none to be had. And yet I must try, for there is no employment here for me."
Sighing wearily, he sits up better and cuts her a shadow of a bow. It is completely good-natured. Rupert has too much at stake when it comes to her to risk mockery. "Forgive me, lady. I am Rupert of Hentzau, from the Kingdom of Ruritania."
Comments 11
And the snow at his feet just might be sweeping aside slightly, not enough to uncover the grass, but enough to smooth his way...
Reply
He doesn't notice the odd behavior of the snow--Rupert is only observant on the topics that interest him, and he isn't yet accustomed enough to magic for his brain to recognize it.
He'll cut a cheeky bow as their paths approach. "Good day, my lord."
Reply
"I am Saetan SaDiablo, former Warlord Prince of Dhemlan and once the High Lord of Hell and Steward to the Queen of Ebon Askavi, though it seems fate or the powers in this realm had other plans for my retirement..."
Reply
This also isn't exactly what Rupert expected of Satan la Diable--although he's aware that isn't the pronunciation he just heard.
"As I," Rupert says, unusually flustered. It takes him a moment to conceal his confused surprise. "Rupert of Hentzau, from the Kingdom of Ruritania."
His bow this time is a little bit more respectful, and quite a bit more confused.
Reply
And so Galadriel will be found in the library, pouring over a tome. She isn't writing in it, but consulting, reading with slow determination the history of men, in their tongue.
She's found a chronicle of the fourth age, and is absolutely fascinated by the future of the land she will never see again.
Reply
He is out of sorts and barely remembers how to be charming. Sprawling on a couch, he props his head up and watches her. "Hail, lady."
Reply
The question slips out of her lips like running water, quiet and alien, as is the rest of her. “Is all well, my lord?”
Reply
Sighing wearily, he sits up better and cuts her a shadow of a bow. It is completely good-natured. Rupert has too much at stake when it comes to her to risk mockery. "Forgive me, lady. I am Rupert of Hentzau, from the Kingdom of Ruritania."
Reply
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