![[Image: whiteliesartheader2.png]](https://i.ibb.co/H2bL9kY/whiteliesartheader2.png)
H I S T O R Y H A S I T S E Y E S O N Y O U
The sun had all but disappeared by the time Raziel and Gahenna arrived home from the hunting trip they had embarked upon at noon.
Deep, red-blue shadows groaned in the corners of Saudager's entrance hall as they swept briskly on -- left, right and left again along endless corridors haunted by portraits of imposing faces and cold, disparaging eyes. It did not matter that he failed to meet their gaze; bitter experience had taught him he would feel their scorn regardless.
The polite clatter of fine china stung the hollows of his ears and even from the safety of his private quarters, far across the pseudo-palace, he could hear the voices of his family -- a moniker he used reluctantly. A furtive glance at the grandfather clock beside his fireplace told him that 10 o'clock was still too early. A grunt, a sigh, "I told you we should have stayed out later".
Gahenna, engrossed in her exacting custom of cleaning her great, crow-black paws after hunting, pretended not to listen. She found that these days it was often the only response he'd bear.
Raziel released the days bounty, along with the stained arrows he had carefully retrieved, from the satchel strapped abound his withers, watching the frail white-tailed bodies as they unfolded like bruised slippers to sprawl upon the coverlet he always used for their kills. Blood was a bastard to get out of mahogany wood and he wasn't about to prove the fact again.
Solterran rabbits were a measly prize for the toil of a sudoric afternoon shoot but in truth, his mind had been elsewhere. It was maddening: this recently-born habit of losing track of time and purpose. He could blame it on the weather or the family or Gahenna but he didn't like to lie, at least not to himself.
What was it about this year? Why was this year different to the other six he'd endured before? The time (the nineteenth day of the eight month) would pass in a flash of aged-whiskey and wanton guilt and memories of his brother's rough garnet eyes. He knew this. So why could he not quell the feeling that this year would be different?
Fifteen minutes passed before Raziel realised he had not moved; it was only Gahenna's low whine that jerked him from that strange sullied reverie. The room, wide and high as it was, dressed in priceless silks and treasured heirlooms, edged in a little closer toward the gold-mottled man as though it were hoping glutinously for a sliver of the contused decay beneath his skin.
He might have bared his teeth had his father not beaten such wickedness out of him. And withal the night had a mouth that gaped wider than his ever could; its single lupine tooth casting moonlight down like beckoning mercy against the vacuum of darkness.
And that, he supposed as he slid out the door he had kept secret for seven years, would have to do.
The sun had all but disappeared by the time Raziel and Gahenna arrived home from the hunting trip they had embarked upon at noon.
Deep, red-blue shadows groaned in the corners of Saudager's entrance hall as they swept briskly on -- left, right and left again along endless corridors haunted by portraits of imposing faces and cold, disparaging eyes. It did not matter that he failed to meet their gaze; bitter experience had taught him he would feel their scorn regardless.
The polite clatter of fine china stung the hollows of his ears and even from the safety of his private quarters, far across the pseudo-palace, he could hear the voices of his family -- a moniker he used reluctantly. A furtive glance at the grandfather clock beside his fireplace told him that 10 o'clock was still too early. A grunt, a sigh, "I told you we should have stayed out later".
Gahenna, engrossed in her exacting custom of cleaning her great, crow-black paws after hunting, pretended not to listen. She found that these days it was often the only response he'd bear.
Raziel released the days bounty, along with the stained arrows he had carefully retrieved, from the satchel strapped abound his withers, watching the frail white-tailed bodies as they unfolded like bruised slippers to sprawl upon the coverlet he always used for their kills. Blood was a bastard to get out of mahogany wood and he wasn't about to prove the fact again.
Solterran rabbits were a measly prize for the toil of a sudoric afternoon shoot but in truth, his mind had been elsewhere. It was maddening: this recently-born habit of losing track of time and purpose. He could blame it on the weather or the family or Gahenna but he didn't like to lie, at least not to himself.
What was it about this year? Why was this year different to the other six he'd endured before? The time (the nineteenth day of the eight month) would pass in a flash of aged-whiskey and wanton guilt and memories of his brother's rough garnet eyes. He knew this. So why could he not quell the feeling that this year would be different?
Fifteen minutes passed before Raziel realised he had not moved; it was only Gahenna's low whine that jerked him from that strange sullied reverie. The room, wide and high as it was, dressed in priceless silks and treasured heirlooms, edged in a little closer toward the gold-mottled man as though it were hoping glutinously for a sliver of the contused decay beneath his skin.
He might have bared his teeth had his father not beaten such wickedness out of him. And withal the night had a mouth that gaped wider than his ever could; its single lupine tooth casting moonlight down like beckoning mercy against the vacuum of darkness.
And that, he supposed as he slid out the door he had kept secret for seven years, would have to do.
@Obsidian
![[Image: deadj5s-7ea0ce6c-63ed-494d-a2b1-1ea29d98..._KYezSKapw]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/62895f4e-8c60-4924-a6f1-54bf30743d42/deadj5s-7ea0ce6c-63ed-494d-a2b1-1ea29d98adc1.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOiIsImlzcyI6InVybjphcHA6Iiwib2JqIjpbW3sicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvNjI4OTVmNGUtOGM2MC00OTI0LWE2ZjEtNTRiZjMwNzQzZDQyXC9kZWFkajVzLTdlYTBjZTZjLTYzZWQtNDk0ZC1hMmIxLTFlYTI5ZDk4YWRjMS5wbmcifV1dLCJhdWQiOlsidXJuOnNlcnZpY2U6ZmlsZS5kb3dubG9hZCJdfQ.No4YMruHY_LHkiZwS9oVnGKGelURHdwU3_KYezSKapw)
