Post by Benoit Deveraux on Mar 9, 2015 10:39:24 GMT -5
Clicks echoed throughout the halls of marble. Rain was coming. It was the reason that necessitated the particularly irritating clicks. The sound was the most irritating damned thing in the world, sounding as a knell to an unending failing. The cane which produced the clicks was one of fine and royal quality being made of ebony. In a way, the wood was perfect for its own. It was reflection of its owner: dark, solid and a sign of power. The latter thought was dripped in irony, of course. The powerful needing to make use of a cane? Come now.
Nonetheless, the cane's owner made his way resolutely down the hallway toward before slowly venturing up a winding staircase that would take him to his study. Why studies were not built on the ground floor were beyond him, but he realized he would not have questioned the architectural choice if he did not have a cane. Upon reaching the necessary floor, he walked in a stately manner toward his destination.
A servant was passing by in the hallway only to be grabbed by the arm. "Find Stephane," he said simply, "Have him meet me in my office." And with that, the man released him to continue on his way. Once he reached his study, he moved around the desk and settled heavily into the plush chair. The expression on his face was a rueful one, stretching his right leg to work out the kinks that built up in his knee. Damn thing. As always, it reminded him of that faithful day during sword training.
Benoit Deveraux leaned over his desk, noticing that it was barren of notices. That would change. If his son had anything do it with it, that would change.
@stephanedeveraux
Nonetheless, the cane's owner made his way resolutely down the hallway toward before slowly venturing up a winding staircase that would take him to his study. Why studies were not built on the ground floor were beyond him, but he realized he would not have questioned the architectural choice if he did not have a cane. Upon reaching the necessary floor, he walked in a stately manner toward his destination.
A servant was passing by in the hallway only to be grabbed by the arm. "Find Stephane," he said simply, "Have him meet me in my office." And with that, the man released him to continue on his way. Once he reached his study, he moved around the desk and settled heavily into the plush chair. The expression on his face was a rueful one, stretching his right leg to work out the kinks that built up in his knee. Damn thing. As always, it reminded him of that faithful day during sword training.
Benoit Deveraux leaned over his desk, noticing that it was barren of notices. That would change. If his son had anything do it with it, that would change.
@stephanedeveraux