A Storm Gathers in Nabata [Lugh La'Sar, Solo]
Oct 28, 2015 7:31:34 GMT -6
Post by Lugh La'Sar on Oct 28, 2015 7:31:34 GMT -6
A yellow eye opened in Nabata. The sun shone high in the desert sky, beating down upon the roof of the large, seaside manse. The yellow eyed man pulled himself up from his bed, the black stone hanging around his neck being all he wore. The room was expansive, luxurious. His bed fit for a king, tapestries adorned the walls, the large wooden door to the outside halls was elegantly carved with images of warriors and strange, long dead creatures. And dragons.
The yellow eyed man opened the door out to his balcony, a space large enough to be a room unto itself. He walked over toward the edge, leaning on the banister and looking out toward the sea. It had been such a long time since he left his estate. Though he knew more than most on what was going on in the world, he could not help but be curious as to what the character of Elibe's people had become. He was not hopeful. When last he left his alcove he found that the world was still as spiteful and bigoted as it was when he first chose to isolate himself from the rest of the Elibe’s residents. He doubted that today would be any different, what with the world being on the brink of a continent wide war. Not that the later fact upset him.
The wind was strong today. The yellow eyed man felt a smile take his face as the sounds and smell of the ocean washed over him. The air was warm but not too hot, clouds dotted the sky, providing the occasional spot of shade. It was, in short, a perfect day. The yellow eyed man walked slowly around the edge of his balcony, his hand absentmindedly trailing along the stone rail that separated his estate to the air around it.
Until, suddenly, it wasn't. In the center of the balcony's perimeter was a gap in the railing about a meter long. The yellow eyed man stood in the gap, his toes hanging off the edge as he balanced his weight, ever so slightly leaning toward the long fall off his balcony into the sea below. There was no fear in his expression, only a sense of eagerness. Anticipation. Today would be a good day. I have abstained for so long. It was a perfect day. Or it would have been, had he not had business to attend. Had the world no longer any need of him. Had there not been a knock on the large mahogany door.
Slowly, painfully the yellow eyed man tore himself away from the balcony's edge and sauntered back toward his chambers. There was no rush. Not for him. Not for Lugh La'Sar. He walked through the threshold from his balcony and called out as if to no one, "You may enter, Stavros." The door opened quickly and closed just as rapidly. In walked a man six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a strong frame. He had the darker toned skin that was so common in Nabata, with eyes the color of a warm cup of coffee. Stavros, like his father, was a kind man - and far more intelligent than most would give him credit for. He was a spectacular butler, as well as Lugh’s closest confidant.
Lugh’s yellow eye turned to meet Stavros’ brown ones. The butler’s left hand had the covering for Lugh’s scarred eye, his right held his liege’s freshly washed robe. The yellow eyed man took the robe and draped it over himself, quickly tying it into place. He then reached for the eye patch in his servant’s hand, and slipped it over his head. Hiding the mark left by that fight from another life. The two men walked over to a small, circular table, as they did every morning. From a small bag at his hip, Stavros pulled out a small stack of papers and dossiers, straightening them in line before placing them on the table. Lugh’s rich voice rang out and almost echoed in the enormous bedchamber, “Where are we to begin?”
The yellow eyed man opened the door out to his balcony, a space large enough to be a room unto itself. He walked over toward the edge, leaning on the banister and looking out toward the sea. It had been such a long time since he left his estate. Though he knew more than most on what was going on in the world, he could not help but be curious as to what the character of Elibe's people had become. He was not hopeful. When last he left his alcove he found that the world was still as spiteful and bigoted as it was when he first chose to isolate himself from the rest of the Elibe’s residents. He doubted that today would be any different, what with the world being on the brink of a continent wide war. Not that the later fact upset him.
The wind was strong today. The yellow eyed man felt a smile take his face as the sounds and smell of the ocean washed over him. The air was warm but not too hot, clouds dotted the sky, providing the occasional spot of shade. It was, in short, a perfect day. The yellow eyed man walked slowly around the edge of his balcony, his hand absentmindedly trailing along the stone rail that separated his estate to the air around it.
Until, suddenly, it wasn't. In the center of the balcony's perimeter was a gap in the railing about a meter long. The yellow eyed man stood in the gap, his toes hanging off the edge as he balanced his weight, ever so slightly leaning toward the long fall off his balcony into the sea below. There was no fear in his expression, only a sense of eagerness. Anticipation. Today would be a good day. I have abstained for so long. It was a perfect day. Or it would have been, had he not had business to attend. Had the world no longer any need of him. Had there not been a knock on the large mahogany door.
Slowly, painfully the yellow eyed man tore himself away from the balcony's edge and sauntered back toward his chambers. There was no rush. Not for him. Not for Lugh La'Sar. He walked through the threshold from his balcony and called out as if to no one, "You may enter, Stavros." The door opened quickly and closed just as rapidly. In walked a man six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a strong frame. He had the darker toned skin that was so common in Nabata, with eyes the color of a warm cup of coffee. Stavros, like his father, was a kind man - and far more intelligent than most would give him credit for. He was a spectacular butler, as well as Lugh’s closest confidant.
Lugh’s yellow eye turned to meet Stavros’ brown ones. The butler’s left hand had the covering for Lugh’s scarred eye, his right held his liege’s freshly washed robe. The yellow eyed man took the robe and draped it over himself, quickly tying it into place. He then reached for the eye patch in his servant’s hand, and slipped it over his head. Hiding the mark left by that fight from another life. The two men walked over to a small, circular table, as they did every morning. From a small bag at his hip, Stavros pulled out a small stack of papers and dossiers, straightening them in line before placing them on the table. Lugh’s rich voice rang out and almost echoed in the enormous bedchamber, “Where are we to begin?”