What could it be, but a visitor to the small place he now claimed to be--funny as it may be--home. An abandoned building from long ago, falling apart and in shambles, but still basically functional, sturdy enough to house what had once been a noble of the Empire. He had once stood before the Empress, before the lords and ladies of the court as the Baron of Luxor, proud and arrogant (though perhaps a bit too proud and a tad too arrogant for his age and experience). But when was the last time he had seen another of his rank, spoken to someone in the quick banter of the court, when each line was honey-sweet to hide the true sharpness of insult and disagreement?
It was in such a world he lived and thrived in, growing up to understand how to mock someone to their face under the veneer of perfect courtesy, a world he missed but knew he could never return to. No, that bridge was long burned, and those times existed in memory only, for it was neither wise nor possible to revisit happiness back in Byzantium. So he makes his home here, here
( ... )
So absorbed in her thoughts was she that another person's presence was merely noticed and cataloged, in the time it took her to check for concealed weapons. It took another moment for her to slow her steps and actually see the person. She was tired, and knew that the signs would start to show soon. Her body had a way of betraying her, first in her eye, then fingers and knees. It was an unfortunate thing, but something she had learned to adapt to. She was not weak because of that -- but something else entirely. Weakness was not a fatal flaw she had taught herself over the years, it was something to remember, take notice of and work off of
( ... )
"Might I ask who you are and what you are doing here, lady?" the question carefully phrased, polite and curious, courteous without being overly intruding. Radu had not seen any indication of others in the area though he was sure he should have. The girl (and girl it was indeed, his mind supplied) appeared only slightly older than Ion did, last Radu had seen him, but she was Terran as far as he could tell--she really was quite young. But there was something in her presence that he did not understand, perhaps a sort of understanding that came with knowing too much in too little time (though that did not make sense) and at the same time, a child's innocence and naiveness though Radu understood that the two were rarely ever intertwined within the mannerisms of one. It unnerved him, though he could not say why
( ... )
Be careful of those who ask questions, the answers are often more revealing than you would prefer. A life lesson, not one she had to learn, thankfully. There was a weight in that memory which had not been her own and she wondered if it had been a lesson Mukuro had learned - or inflicted on someone. She was, of course, aware of some of the things he did or had done. In the same turn she did things (or would do) that surely were also worth disapproval. His assessment of the world became more and more true the older she got - and yet she found herself loving the world more and more. Perhaps it was because she had something to hold onto
( ... )
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It was in such a world he lived and thrived in, growing up to understand how to mock someone to their face under the veneer of perfect courtesy, a world he missed but knew he could never return to. No, that bridge was long burned, and those times existed in memory only, for it was neither wise nor possible to revisit happiness back in Byzantium. So he makes his home here, here ( ... )
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