Post by Icarus on May 26, 2021 14:44:12 GMT -8
When Rowan returned to the familiar property nestled among more modest houses of Paradise, the first flag was the Totally-Mundane elderly butler nervous to let him in. After filtering the gambit of excuses—Icarus was sick, he was with someone, he was out—Doormarch appeared and heard the Darkling out. When Rowan offered the reasonable dismissal that if it wasn’t a good time...the second red flag was the complete 180 of being shuffled into the expansive lounge while the doddering creature mutters that maybe he could be of assistance. His lordship was always sensitive around this time of year, you see. Dormarch followed behind, musing that having to rise to his duties and hear out a vassalage would be a useful change of pace.
One of the doors that link to the Hedge thunders, the edge of reality peeling as the thorns catch fire and retreat into the frame of oblivion. The butler is already hiding behind the couch, leaving Doormarch to step away from the smoking bear that emerges from the Gate. The Autumn Beast pats out the embers of his smoking fur as he snarls back over his shoulder, "This isn’t what I agreed to, Magistrate."
"You’re right! I thought I was hiring someone COMPETENT!" Icarus’ familiar voice snipes back. "No get your worthless flimsy-clawed, moonshine addled ass BACK here and actually HIT ME." Fire explodes into the lounge, burning trenches into the hardwood and melting the canvas against the stairwell. The lumbering Gargantuan retracts his claws as he shields his eyes against the blast, snorting as he glances at the Barghest and Snowskin, leaving without a word.
Doormarch hangs back, calculating the butler’s hopeful expression as he starts spraying the fires with the extinguisher that seemingly manifested out of nowhere.
"Sir, Rowan's here to pledge himself to you," he called out, offering the other an encouraging smile.
No hellfire burns Rowan's eyebrows off as he ducks his head into the shadowed realm. Arched ceilings carved from obsidian and green veins are lit with flickering braziers, the light sticking to the newcomer as if a spotlight has been cast, making the surroundings hard to make out. This was the usual influence of the Knight of the Dying Light. Thorns flake into ash as Rowan peers around the doorframe, watching his own influence cast judgmental whispers twisting from the embers. Black eyes hone to the flash of a lighter as the Incubus snaps his fingers around a fat joint.
The anxiety was the second half of Autumn's power, Rowan unconsciously straightening his jacket and standing properly. Icarus heavily slumps in a chair, ignoring the address as he takes an angry drag. His expression is ugly as he holds the smoke and glares at the array of weaponry on the south wall. "Do you know how to use any of those?" he growls with an exhale, gesturing dismissively at every weapon a historical European martial artist would cream themselves over. The request could have been a joke, with the bear-claw trenches that ran from chest to shoulder.
Rowan answers honestly, pulling his hands from his pockets as the Autumn noble rounds on him. His hair was wild without the tie to hold it back, the light fizzing out as it trailed over the bleeding gashes. "Fine." The massive blade swung as shadows rippled to form armour around his person.
The joint was flicked away, smoke curling from the helmet.
"Kneel."
One of the doors that link to the Hedge thunders, the edge of reality peeling as the thorns catch fire and retreat into the frame of oblivion. The butler is already hiding behind the couch, leaving Doormarch to step away from the smoking bear that emerges from the Gate. The Autumn Beast pats out the embers of his smoking fur as he snarls back over his shoulder, "This isn’t what I agreed to, Magistrate."
"You’re right! I thought I was hiring someone COMPETENT!" Icarus’ familiar voice snipes back. "No get your worthless flimsy-clawed, moonshine addled ass BACK here and actually HIT ME." Fire explodes into the lounge, burning trenches into the hardwood and melting the canvas against the stairwell. The lumbering Gargantuan retracts his claws as he shields his eyes against the blast, snorting as he glances at the Barghest and Snowskin, leaving without a word.
Doormarch hangs back, calculating the butler’s hopeful expression as he starts spraying the fires with the extinguisher that seemingly manifested out of nowhere.
"Sir, Rowan's here to pledge himself to you," he called out, offering the other an encouraging smile.
No hellfire burns Rowan's eyebrows off as he ducks his head into the shadowed realm. Arched ceilings carved from obsidian and green veins are lit with flickering braziers, the light sticking to the newcomer as if a spotlight has been cast, making the surroundings hard to make out. This was the usual influence of the Knight of the Dying Light. Thorns flake into ash as Rowan peers around the doorframe, watching his own influence cast judgmental whispers twisting from the embers. Black eyes hone to the flash of a lighter as the Incubus snaps his fingers around a fat joint.
The anxiety was the second half of Autumn's power, Rowan unconsciously straightening his jacket and standing properly. Icarus heavily slumps in a chair, ignoring the address as he takes an angry drag. His expression is ugly as he holds the smoke and glares at the array of weaponry on the south wall. "Do you know how to use any of those?" he growls with an exhale, gesturing dismissively at every weapon a historical European martial artist would cream themselves over. The request could have been a joke, with the bear-claw trenches that ran from chest to shoulder.
Rowan answers honestly, pulling his hands from his pockets as the Autumn noble rounds on him. His hair was wild without the tie to hold it back, the light fizzing out as it trailed over the bleeding gashes. "Fine." The massive blade swung as shadows rippled to form armour around his person.
The joint was flicked away, smoke curling from the helmet.
"Kneel."
