Post by Everett Price on Apr 29, 2017 17:30:23 GMT -5
Where Everett sat in one of the main chambers off the Great Hall in the castle proper, the fire crackled -- built high, to keep off the pervasive cold that was beginning to sink in from the outside temperatures; and by idle hands, that continued to feed it pieces of wood in a distracted fashion.
The snow fell lightly that day, but the winter turn had come, full and final, to Vasile; but while the people of the country should be retreating to their respective cities to finish preparations for the long season -- which would normally keep them all apart, and thankfully, out of eachother's affairs till spring -- most of the named noble of the province still remained within Vanderhall -- idle, cautious, fractious, as they milled about one another with unease.
So many names of import, all save one -- the highest among them.
"We should offer our aid." Klaus' voice was stern, but kept low; away from prying ears, around each corner. He sat in his chair on the edge, leaning forward; elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, as he looked from the fire towards his younger brother. "They know it is theirs. We should stay out of their way, until they ask directly," was Everett's own reply -- his voice as well, stern but soft, his dark eyes fixated more on the crackling flames rather than those present in the room; family, crowded in. Even now, he could hear whispers and booted footsteps in the halls -- the sense of impatience, of unease, filtering the already thick air. Too many Vasilians in one place. It never boded well.
Everett glanced back at Klaus then, his own head bowed. " -- We will. In short time. We should -- prepare to tonight, to ride out, if the call comes. Or -- back home -- if that occurs as well," he added, glancing then to Emeline, seated not far from her brothers.
His thoughts, to the Princess; and her face in the flurried snows. Their conversation, to be exact, but also to where she was now. Wherever that was.
Ill winds.
@anneliesevann ? @emelineprice / Nicholas Miller Jean-Luc Deveraux (if Everett can be of help?
The snow fell lightly that day, but the winter turn had come, full and final, to Vasile; but while the people of the country should be retreating to their respective cities to finish preparations for the long season -- which would normally keep them all apart, and thankfully, out of eachother's affairs till spring -- most of the named noble of the province still remained within Vanderhall -- idle, cautious, fractious, as they milled about one another with unease.
So many names of import, all save one -- the highest among them.
"We should offer our aid." Klaus' voice was stern, but kept low; away from prying ears, around each corner. He sat in his chair on the edge, leaning forward; elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, as he looked from the fire towards his younger brother. "They know it is theirs. We should stay out of their way, until they ask directly," was Everett's own reply -- his voice as well, stern but soft, his dark eyes fixated more on the crackling flames rather than those present in the room; family, crowded in. Even now, he could hear whispers and booted footsteps in the halls -- the sense of impatience, of unease, filtering the already thick air. Too many Vasilians in one place. It never boded well.
Everett glanced back at Klaus then, his own head bowed. " -- We will. In short time. We should -- prepare to tonight, to ride out, if the call comes. Or -- back home -- if that occurs as well," he added, glancing then to Emeline, seated not far from her brothers.
His thoughts, to the Princess; and her face in the flurried snows. Their conversation, to be exact, but also to where she was now. Wherever that was.
Ill winds.
@anneliesevann ? @emelineprice / Nicholas Miller Jean-Luc Deveraux (if Everett can be of help?