THIS BEAUTIFUL DECAY
Reichenbach's confident but swift approach almost caught Lothaire off-guard, almost. He matched the ochre man's simmering grin with a slow reptilian blink, concealing his intrigue entirely. It was his prerogative, no? To guard the secrets festering like flies under his skin? Too much he had seen, too little he had told. The warrior was jovial, assertive, unbound (it seemed to Lothaire) by the restraints of anxiety. But sensed that was not all. Reading strangers was a game he played all too often, one he certainly enjoyed. He regarded people as books in a vast, unending library; tokens of literature, some open some closed, but all with their own story just waiting to be seen. What was Reichenbach's tale? Black met silver, their eyes locking in an unspoken dance. The syllables drizzled from Lo's tongue like liquid hydrogen - "I'd be lying if I said the relic had not caught my attention, but perhaps my intentions do not mirror those who seek it so vehemently." Greed glittered in the eyes of most he had seen hunting Tempus' lost jewel, and it fascinated him; lust was all but absent in Lothaire's heart, and like all foreign things it charmed him. Intentionally he had brushed aside his acquaintance's initial question, reluctant to reveal all the inner workings of his mind. "We share something, you and I." He drawled, instead. A bizarre statement, perhaps, but then Lothaire never had learnt the universal etiquette of conversation. ooc: this is ick and a bit rushed, sorry wanted to get something up!
|
