(no subject)
[ Locked to atthemercyof. Terrible Things!Verse. ]
[ It's the beginning of the evening, and as the sun slowly sinks lower into the dismal skyline, a dim light floods through the rooms of the mansion, which is quickly ebbing out as it falls victim to the early onset of a dreary night.
Charles is locked away in the study while the rest of the house are in the kitchen eating their evening meal, but for once he isn't engrossed in his work; in fact, the desk is in the tidiest state it's been in for a long time, nothing but the basic essentials lining the surface, and not one document left lying out in a seemingly unfathomable mess of organisation ready to be picked up later. The fire, which is freshly lit and still trying desperately to roar itself into life, is the main source of light in the room, casting a shadow over the furniture within its reach, and combined with the thick, round candles scattered around the area, alight and flickering, provides a somewhat romantic atmosphere, especially with the soft addition of the crackling wood as it slowly burns. Before it is the rug that's been there for years, but it looks as though it's been recently cleaned and fluffed, cushions sitting at either side. And then there's the large oak coffee table positioned just so, a chessboard set out in the dead-centre, and with a bottle of wine reading 'Spätburgunder Wein. Deutschlands am feinsten.'* on the label, two pristine glasses at its side.
Now finished, Charles examines the subtle yet carefully thought-out rearrangement of the room and smiles with satisfaction, though it doesn't exactly ease the nerves he can feel swimming around in his stomach that snap at his insides like hungry sharks. Erik is due to join him shortly, no doubt expecting a lecture considering the vague context of the note he had Raven send him earlier in the day, and decides to sit down on the rug with a book while he waits. ]
* Pinot Noir wine. Germany's finest.
[ It's the beginning of the evening, and as the sun slowly sinks lower into the dismal skyline, a dim light floods through the rooms of the mansion, which is quickly ebbing out as it falls victim to the early onset of a dreary night.
Charles is locked away in the study while the rest of the house are in the kitchen eating their evening meal, but for once he isn't engrossed in his work; in fact, the desk is in the tidiest state it's been in for a long time, nothing but the basic essentials lining the surface, and not one document left lying out in a seemingly unfathomable mess of organisation ready to be picked up later. The fire, which is freshly lit and still trying desperately to roar itself into life, is the main source of light in the room, casting a shadow over the furniture within its reach, and combined with the thick, round candles scattered around the area, alight and flickering, provides a somewhat romantic atmosphere, especially with the soft addition of the crackling wood as it slowly burns. Before it is the rug that's been there for years, but it looks as though it's been recently cleaned and fluffed, cushions sitting at either side. And then there's the large oak coffee table positioned just so, a chessboard set out in the dead-centre, and with a bottle of wine reading 'Spätburgunder Wein. Deutschlands am feinsten.'* on the label, two pristine glasses at its side.
Now finished, Charles examines the subtle yet carefully thought-out rearrangement of the room and smiles with satisfaction, though it doesn't exactly ease the nerves he can feel swimming around in his stomach that snap at his insides like hungry sharks. Erik is due to join him shortly, no doubt expecting a lecture considering the vague context of the note he had Raven send him earlier in the day, and decides to sit down on the rug with a book while he waits. ]
* Pinot Noir wine. Germany's finest.