He'd walked through hell and come out singing, but that had only made him ruthless.
Raymond had no love of tight spaces, and when Acton slipped into the dark passageway he did not immediately follow. Even the walls of the Night Court made his skin itch the way a lion recoils from the confines of a cage. This was well beyond that - black, constricting, an unknown quantity of the sort that unsettles the most primitive edges of the brain. But the spotted stallion had proceeded, and short of entertaining the paranoia that he would wait there in the dark to kill his own Regent Raymond had no reason to linger, so he followed.
The hesitation had burned up only a moment of their time, and the passage opened onto a dimly lit chamber ripe with stale, still air. Shafts of light filtered in from a peppering of star-like holes bored into the ceiling, and motes of freshly-disturbed dust drifted lazily above the intricate rendition of a celestial map carved directly into the floor at the center of the chamber. The walls, only just visible in the dusky spaces beyond, seemed to be decorated with more of the same behind the rotten, tattered remains of old tapestries and rusted sconces. The echoes of ancient chants seemed trapped inside the very stone.
This was a place of worship, though for whom he could not say.
Perhaps there were none left who could.
"How good are you with Denoctean history?" the red stallion asked, eyes sweeping over and past Acton to the architecture beyond.
Raymond.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
@Acton
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
