hanged, but did not die,
"I recognize this style—there was one just like it in my previous court, imported from overseas. What are the odds that I would stumble upon its predecessor?”
"It's always pleasing to hear the work of Ixion has reached farther shores than I."
His voice interrupted the quiet of the room, brought it alive as if the musical baritone had called to all things and set them singing. Reichenbach appeared a moment later, leaning against the doorway with a pleasant, if dry, smile upon his black lips. Shadows coiled about the nape of his neck, in a sort of sleep-state, lazy in their movements as his silver gaze flicked between Ipomoea and the dainty girl he'd yet to see wandering Denocte. After a moment he pushed off of the doorway and entered the room, asking;
"Do you have a favourite?"
His gaze wandered over each tapestry, lingering finally upon the one the pair of Delumine souls had chosen to inspect. Ixion's painting. Reichenbach had never known the man that had painted it, only his story — a story formed not so long before he himself had arrived within Denocte. As a slim-shouldered orphan boy he'd heard the whispers and the regrets, the sorrow that had been the life of Ixion Starchaser. Reichenbach drew closer to the tapestry, enigmatic and vibrant against the painted backdrop. He glanced at Ipomoea, murmuring;
"He killed himself, you know.. Saw too much in the world."
Abruptly, he looked to the delicately boned girl in the room, appraising her with knowing eyes. She was an artwork in herself, with mile-long legs and long lashed eyes — not to mention that flawlessly pale skin. The Night King looked away for a moment, cleansing his eyes of another pale-skinned resident before returning his gaze and cocking his roguish head;
"Hello there"
Then came another charming grin, an act that would follow his words constantly — an eternal smile of his own damnation.
@Ipomoea @Messalina these guys are so cute!!
"It's always pleasing to hear the work of Ixion has reached farther shores than I."
His voice interrupted the quiet of the room, brought it alive as if the musical baritone had called to all things and set them singing. Reichenbach appeared a moment later, leaning against the doorway with a pleasant, if dry, smile upon his black lips. Shadows coiled about the nape of his neck, in a sort of sleep-state, lazy in their movements as his silver gaze flicked between Ipomoea and the dainty girl he'd yet to see wandering Denocte. After a moment he pushed off of the doorway and entered the room, asking;
"Do you have a favourite?"
His gaze wandered over each tapestry, lingering finally upon the one the pair of Delumine souls had chosen to inspect. Ixion's painting. Reichenbach had never known the man that had painted it, only his story — a story formed not so long before he himself had arrived within Denocte. As a slim-shouldered orphan boy he'd heard the whispers and the regrets, the sorrow that had been the life of Ixion Starchaser. Reichenbach drew closer to the tapestry, enigmatic and vibrant against the painted backdrop. He glanced at Ipomoea, murmuring;
"He killed himself, you know.. Saw too much in the world."
Abruptly, he looked to the delicately boned girl in the room, appraising her with knowing eyes. She was an artwork in herself, with mile-long legs and long lashed eyes — not to mention that flawlessly pale skin. The Night King looked away for a moment, cleansing his eyes of another pale-skinned resident before returning his gaze and cocking his roguish head;
"Hello there"
Then came another charming grin, an act that would follow his words constantly — an eternal smile of his own damnation.
while he was being buried,
he arose and asked for a drink.
@Ipomoea @Messalina these guys are so cute!!
