Nuances
The earth quaked beneath him, and then darkness came. It spat him out from the vast wilds to an elegant corridor. Simplicity scrawled across the walls out-shown the disappearing flecks of magic and rather than look at the closed doors, he made it his priority to look out the window and view the grounds. Nothing that he could remember seeing before. However.. It did give him memory of a time he shattered a throne room’s windows. Not entirely… his fault.
Gloved fingers ran along the sill as his thoughts raced. His feet took action and the ex-General stalked through the corridor, knowing there would either be a large room it began at.. Or a door to one. Perhaps an angry guard and loud Queen to sass him out as well.
Finding nothing of the sort to accompany the lonesome door, he turned back with the resolution to
snooplook around the ones he passed. With just a touch, locked rooms unlocked and he would take the briefest of glances inside. Finding storage in the first few rooms killed his exploratory excitement but did give him what he wanted. A fast way to understand what building he was in. It wasn’t a base, but still retained aspects of information beyond what a normal library had. He pulled out the file of some mediocre mechanic but read what the woman was a part of, rather than her decease status.Eos.
That sounded familiar. Just like Niflheim did. He had to reread it. It was odd. It provoked further exploration after he rummaged through a few more of the decease’s files.
|| @daemonizing ||
imperial ambiance — reputable for its inertia — corrodes the walls and air with shadows ( A SILENT MENACE ). an accretion of whispers, jittering footfalls, and endearing whines of claws against steel fornicate with the impurity of an emptied infrastructure. EVACUATED. vulgarity of daemonic chatter indexed amongst the smooth cavities of its corridors, heartless shades of withdrawal splattered — smeared — amongst its daunting labyrinth of rooms, favors abject company of the chancellor whom perches within the vicinity’s uppermost quarantine.
spine of chair reclines — accommodating leisurely tilt of posture — whilst manner of gaze ascents bleakness of roofing. slated planks, austere in their simplicity, perturb his isolated monotony ( THE KING YET TO PURSUE ). segregation forebodes, discerning the advent of roused motion detectors as none other than a mortal entity. monitor communicates with succeeding bleeps — facilitating intrigue — as the chancellor returns tawny hues to contrast of display. expectedly, an intruder plucks uniformity from his fastidious arrangements ( THE HEARTBEAT MOVES ).
brows furrow, entrenching flesh of forehead. a contemporary sniffle displaces his nose — wrinkling in contempt — irises antagonized by an unforeseen assailant. VIOLATION. rhythmic poise surveys the counter — fingers expressive, motivated by a challenge — and encircles the waist of an over speaker’s microphone ( TAP TAP , SCREECH ).
“ HELLO ——— ! good evening , to you ! i don’t suppose you’re enjoying yourself down there — it is rather dark , on the lower levels . admittedly, i wasn’t intending on having company so soon —— perhaps i ought to smoke you out . hmhn — it would be wise to rid of any viruses with haste … shall we make a game of it — ? i simply can’t have you snooping about … ”
