- Joined
- Jan 5, 2012
- Messages
- 1,253
- Reaction score
- 93
The sun beat a crimson glow over rocky crags, shifting its yolk onto vegetation that waned beyond the palisades, beyond Gabriel's meandering gait. The man, doused black in robes, swathed in satin clothes and khaki trousers, left his ship and clung to a certain isolation. With guards striking surveillance at the palace's gates, with walls and towers and the blue holographic glow of warmth etched onto them, his solitude was relative. Disquiet surrounded him, cloaked in airs of posterity. Narrow eyes beckoned him with suspicion.
They saw him for a shell. Face drawn tight, hair streaked with gray. Crow dancing with glee beneath his eyes, dragging their feet into murders that tore the youth from his countenance. A cane tapped with him. Held often at the crook of an elbow, tucked away until he deemed it necessary to touch the silver gilt til to the ground, to click for the guards' annoyance.
Gabriel, whose name meant nothing. Allowed on order. A rare bustle from a lesser used entrance; the way he held his peace, kept silent as he was escorted up the stairs, into the palace's inner recesses wracked him with causality. An unknown. Searched, stricken, watched. Given right of passage and little else.
A wan smile touched his eyes. The doors to Andraste's palace opened for him. Reminiscence, even as it burned in his veins, bled him of courage, was sweet. Flowed viscous over cracked lips, crooned from a dry throat.
He introduced himself with a lowered gaze, offering a knee before his lady of darkness. When he rose, it was to wait.
"Perhaps you will forgive my request," he said. "It has been long."
They saw him for a shell. Face drawn tight, hair streaked with gray. Crow dancing with glee beneath his eyes, dragging their feet into murders that tore the youth from his countenance. A cane tapped with him. Held often at the crook of an elbow, tucked away until he deemed it necessary to touch the silver gilt til to the ground, to click for the guards' annoyance.
Gabriel, whose name meant nothing. Allowed on order. A rare bustle from a lesser used entrance; the way he held his peace, kept silent as he was escorted up the stairs, into the palace's inner recesses wracked him with causality. An unknown. Searched, stricken, watched. Given right of passage and little else.
A wan smile touched his eyes. The doors to Andraste's palace opened for him. Reminiscence, even as it burned in his veins, bled him of courage, was sweet. Flowed viscous over cracked lips, crooned from a dry throat.
He introduced himself with a lowered gaze, offering a knee before his lady of darkness. When he rose, it was to wait.
"Perhaps you will forgive my request," he said. "It has been long."