[P] — cask of amontillado

[Raum]

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

 


His skull tips toward the parade as loud voices clatter like cymbals off the buildings leading to the main street. Slowly Raum catches sight of ire and frustration. Protestors throw themselves at the wall of soldiers who push back. At the heart of the parade is a silver stallion whose eyes blink once at the commotion.
 
Do not blink again. Solterra’s king thinks, his threat never making it to tongue or lip but the silver stallion at the heart of the parade does not blink again. He moves, as if the sins of his rule are treacle to his limbs. He walks without pride and indifference. Then, at last, he blinks, a frown pulling between his brows. It is not enough for anyone but a king to see. And see it Raum does.
 
He turns from the parade, settling his dark eyes upon the stranger, the youth who lurks upon the edges. Only reconnaissance happens here – it was why Raum moves in civilian flesh, to catch the whispers and wonders of his rebellious court.
 
I’ve never seen someone so equally loathed and feared. The young man muses, dismissively. Raum does not flinch within his new bone white flesh. He does not change his face at all. Already he lets his mask slip, just for a moment. Then he is smiling, an actor, a great imitator. “Mmm, true.” He hums as if he could care, as if this whole court was not his to destroy upon a whim. “but there are always things to do if you wish to find them.”
 
Back Raum’s gaze wanders and still that king walks more dejected with every hateful call. “Some cannot handle such loathing.” The Villain king answers vaguely, thoughtfully. Back his gaze returns to the young stallion before him, his skin black as ebony, gold lacing through his coat like splits of sunlight in a midnight sky. “What do you make of him?” Raum asks, of that Villain king. His question is light, curious and yet uncaring. For truly, no matter this youths answer, it would make no difference to Raum. He was not here to be loved. He was not here to be hated. As long as Solterra tasted the dust of the earth he would be content.
 
For now.

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@Erasmus - sorry it has taken me so long and sorry this is utterly Not Good.