I'M A MAN, I'M A TWISTED FOOL,
MY HANDS ARE TWISTED, TOO,
FIVE FINGERS TWO BLACK HOOVES
MY HANDS ARE TWISTED, TOO,
FIVE FINGERS TWO BLACK HOOVES
They arrived as he had expected them to, all drawn like moths to a flame — to his flame. His black hair fell in opulent curls around his cheeks, shining like the wings of the crows gathered upon the parapets. Nothing escaped the sharpness of his gaze, the absences noted and recorded, the attendees welcomed by the splitting of his black lipped smile.
Unexpectedly, it was Lyra that first stepped forward. Reichenbach took in her flowered appearance, his gaze lingering on the way she held herself, so different now from when they had first met. Then she had been uncertain, unsure of the quiet strength limning her bones. Yet now... now Lyra commanded the attention and respect of their populace, winning over each individual with her calm determination.
"I still wish to serve the Night Court in whatever way I can. You have my loyalty until my last breath."
The Night King's smile was warm, resplendent against a storm-hued sky. His handsome head dipped:
"And you, mine. I can think of no one better to be our Champion."
It was easy to be this King — the kindhearted, loyal, strong man. That ease faded when faced with true diplomatic problems, when faced with morality. Such thoughts led him to the woman moving to stand before him now — a hurricane.... a tempest of justice to keep him in check. To sense when his chaos became destructive rather than purposeful, committed not to him — but their Court.
"I will serve in this world and the next, should our kingdom ask such of me."
Reich shifted ever so slightly so that Aislinn Stormsinger : Regent of The Night Court, could take a place beside him. He could feel the ice of her gaze upon his skin like a blade, knowing that while Aislinn was as family to him... she would not hesitate if it came to saving Denocte — even if that meant destroying him in the process.
A solemn thought, but one he carried with weight, a reminder to keep a check on his temper.
His eyes met lilac then, waiting — watching. Even while Aether roared his commitment, the ground trembling beneath the assault, he set his long lashed eyes and waited.
"But I will serve my King, and my Kingdom. My talents, and my power, is yours."
His muscles loosened, a broad grin opening his rough face as he simply announced;
[b]"Excellent."[/b]
He would thank the kirin more intimately later, when only he could see the faint blush that would surely kiss porcelain cheeks.
"I have since healed from my wounds, and hope that perhaps I can keep my position as Champion of Wisdom?"
Reichenbach shifted his intense gaze, eyes softening in familiarity as they alighted upon Araxes. The slight bulge of her stomach was not lost on him, though he associated the sight with his own sister — perhaps the children could be friends... if he could get Rhoswen to come home with his niece or nephew.
"I see no reason to object. As one of our most knowledgable citizens, you will remain Champion."
A pleasant smile followed, more tender than his usual grin — Reichenbach had a soft spot for gentle girls. And a blade with Torstein's name on it.
His eyes slide to Rostislav, waiting silently at the back of the crowd. He says nothing, offers nothing, only silence and a cool stare that spoke of future conversations. Only a moment is lost on the quiet before Dovev offered words, creating a quirk of a smile upon the King's lips. Remain a sage — as if that's all the Crow of Whispers is. Reichenbach is happy to pretend along with his blue-skinned boy, casting an amused glance his way before searching the crowd again. There were merchants, Crows, members of the Brotherhood — that laughing-eyed man so familiar to him, like a shadow or a memory.
