mothers make the man
“And what should I tell you?” He asks, smiling still, reaching forward in turn. A breath between them, a greeting between dragons and demons (between a mortal and the shell of one, though Anatoly will likely never know). He watches the slide of gold over the shiver of her skin, the give of silk beneath her body, the temptation in the curve of her neck. There is something almost familiar to her, something wicked and sinful and knowing.
It leaves him terribly at ease, even as his gaze grows more watchful. A well-dressed woman is a dangerous one, and here she is gilded in frivolity and softened with silken surroundings. The foolish might think a whore of her, but Anatoly knows that profession too well to mistake her for it. If she is anything close, she is a Geisha, but even that does not sit quite right. All the same, for all the secrets she asks of him, all the secrets she is surely aware he doesn’t know, she has a hundred more.
It has been… a very long time since he has met another alike to him.
So he lounges, neck curved like a snake about to strike, knowing she is not a mark as so many have been before but putting on the show anyway. “Should I tell you of the rumours down below? Of the fire wielder? Of the recluse or the golden?” He asks. He could ask if she wants to hear of the green-eyed girl (a refugee, some say, but others disagree), but though he does not look it he is well aware of the servants slipping like ghosts through rooms and halls.
Whoever is truly the power of this place, they are undoubtedly protective of the girl (the golden is half in love with her, people say), and he knows the kind of power necessary for gambling dens hidden so luxuriously in a court’s heart. He knows it is not a power he wants to tangle with for no good reason.
Regimes rise and fall, a King can be killed, but the shadows that cater to them are forever.
“Or perhaps you’re more interested in something a little further afield?” Despite this offer, he does not prepare to speak of how King Raum has lingered here, or how all accounts go unconfirmed. Currently he stands in the unique position to wander into that Queen killer’s, Queen stealer’s court with none knowing him to be an enemy. It would be unwise to tip anyone off about that little boon until he has lost all use for it. A shame: all the juiciest gossip seems to follow the King.
“And what might sharing secrets get me?” He asks, eyes hooded, smile wicked. Perhaps one might think him flirting (they would not be wrong). But it’s her mind he’s interested in tonight, not her body, and so he sees no reason to hide the teasing laughter in his eyes.
It leaves him terribly at ease, even as his gaze grows more watchful. A well-dressed woman is a dangerous one, and here she is gilded in frivolity and softened with silken surroundings. The foolish might think a whore of her, but Anatoly knows that profession too well to mistake her for it. If she is anything close, she is a Geisha, but even that does not sit quite right. All the same, for all the secrets she asks of him, all the secrets she is surely aware he doesn’t know, she has a hundred more.
It has been… a very long time since he has met another alike to him.
So he lounges, neck curved like a snake about to strike, knowing she is not a mark as so many have been before but putting on the show anyway. “Should I tell you of the rumours down below? Of the fire wielder? Of the recluse or the golden?” He asks. He could ask if she wants to hear of the green-eyed girl (a refugee, some say, but others disagree), but though he does not look it he is well aware of the servants slipping like ghosts through rooms and halls.
Whoever is truly the power of this place, they are undoubtedly protective of the girl (the golden is half in love with her, people say), and he knows the kind of power necessary for gambling dens hidden so luxuriously in a court’s heart. He knows it is not a power he wants to tangle with for no good reason.
Regimes rise and fall, a King can be killed, but the shadows that cater to them are forever.
“Or perhaps you’re more interested in something a little further afield?” Despite this offer, he does not prepare to speak of how King Raum has lingered here, or how all accounts go unconfirmed. Currently he stands in the unique position to wander into that Queen killer’s, Queen stealer’s court with none knowing him to be an enemy. It would be unwise to tip anyone off about that little boon until he has lost all use for it. A shame: all the juiciest gossip seems to follow the King.
“And what might sharing secrets get me?” He asks, eyes hooded, smile wicked. Perhaps one might think him flirting (they would not be wrong). But it’s her mind he’s interested in tonight, not her body, and so he sees no reason to hide the teasing laughter in his eyes.
@"Al'Zahra"
anatoly
