...
"Ah," his wings snap out and fold back, shuffle into place, snap out then back again before the massive extensions of both his pride and ego are comfortably tucked away -- then he continues " -- only you." It is said with some disappointment but relief as well. Someone as paper-thin like Isra has no business handling, holding, protecting, then furthermore selling his wares in the Denocte market. If she were to be robbed of his things, he would hold her accountable, 200%. She would have to pay him back for all of it with her life -- and she did not seem to be the type of personality that was willing to gamble with the stakes that high.
An ever-expanding gap of silence grows between them, Albrecht doesn't have much to say to someone he has no business with so he lets the sound of the morning breeze fill all the empty spaces. For awhile, he turns to remark the sunrise as it gilds everything that it can reach with its corpuscular rays of light. Whatever it touches it turns to gold, and Albrecht finds this to be beautiful. "Beautiful morning, I must say, Denocte has quite exquisite sunrises for all its worship of Night." Not that he gives much of a shit for Calligo, except for the part where she opens her marketplace to anyone - everyone - so long as they have something to sell. He is dedicated to appearances, and those who know him know he worships Solis simply because they've seen him on his knees at Veneror, quiet and contemplative -- crunching numbers when he should be begging to be forgiven for all the things he has done.
But he doesn't, while those who beg to find the answers to Life, Death, and everything that is tangled up in between - Albrecht is asking Solis for an easier way configure taxes on his goods in Denocte. He's asking him whether he should serve his champagne in goblets or flutes. He's asking him why (why oh why) can't he separate his beautiful self from the others and simply bring his Temple home. As Sacred as Veneror Peak is, Albrecht thinks it would be much more meaningful to worship the sun in the desert of all places.
We digress,
Isra shrinks back from him, inch by inch, she can't get small enough in the presence of Albrecht who is towering over her without trying. His eyes chose to wander her rather than the country side which lays open and sprawling to the West of them. He notices the blue and imagines Luther pointing her out in a crowd saying 'that one - that one - She is perfect!' and is quickly met with disgust. It is no interest of Albrecht's to sell horses to be slaughtered. To him, they are much better off alive regardless of how much of a turnip they end up being -- he can find ways to get blood out of them one way or another.
No one shows up, Albrecht grows impatient behind a calm, quiet mask he wears for Isra. His smile is enough to be considered genuine when he gleams at her to try and put the stranger at ease, but all it seems to do is make it worse. He looks around again, golden eyes looking for something to say to divert her attention, that is when he notices how black it all is. He frowns then, as the sunrise touches everything where they stand he can see that it is deader than dead, its gone. "What happened here?" He knew there was a rift between Night and Day, but seeing as how Denocte was like a second home to him (his bank account) he had always remained neutral and aloof of the political tension which brought the courts head-to-head. He waits for only a moment before continuing, astounded by the devastation. "Who is responsible for this?"
ALBRECHT
this is what you came for. this is what you get
