Road to War: Prelude
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There is no avoiding war; it can only be postponed to the advantage of others. - Niccolo Machiavelli
~~~
A common theme was being played on the piano, by a woman adorned in a white dress.
Atticus entered the uncharacteristically empty Inn, scanned the empty seats, the vacant bar, analyzed everything. Not until he stood in the center of the room did he realize the song was playing, and had accompanied his every step, as haunting as the otherwise vacant commons. He turned towards the piano and it's player, an eyebrow raising in curiosity. Yet he would not, did not interrupt.
The woman's fingers pressed into the keys, suddenly ending the song. Then, with a glance to the ceiling, she smirked. As her fingers flowed, she slowly turned her head to the man, the sustain pedal firmly struck to allow every haunting note bleed out into the Inn."
"Alluvius." She cocked her head to the side, her eyes returning to the keys. "The stench of Alluvius." She giggled to herself over the music.
There were few instances in his life that he could recall such a sensation, as the goosebumps that prickled his arms and the back of his neck in the moment she voiced those words, that word, that name. Of course, she might know of it, but it wasn't the knowledge. It was the tone. His face, already stoic, lost all expression behind a figurative mask of steel. He proceeded toward the piano, the notes played seeming to determine his speed, his rhythm, pulling him like a marionette. For a man who felt little in the way of fear, he took a deep, almost quavering breath before speaking.
"What of it' Does it smell so bad to you? I do not believe it was always so." Factually stated, and concise. Even if his words -were- fired out rather quickly.
"Blood; distant, world or otherwise..." She flowed into something else entirely, the piano an extension of her mind's eye. It was appropriate. She grinned darkly, revealing fangs.
"You all smell the same. From a different world. It's funny, really....there is a stench to each world. Their inhabitants..." She then fell into a chuckle. "Every universe smells different even if the same place and time exists....curious, really....I can always smell your kinds' stench through all of the shit."
She ceased her music, and closed the key cover on the piano. She stood slowly and then turned to him. "Such a pretty boy, aren't you? I suppose Kaius had to get his looks from somewhere."
~~~
There is no avoiding war; it can only be postponed to the advantage of others. - Niccolo Machiavelli
~~~
A common theme was being played on the piano, by a woman adorned in a white dress.
Atticus entered the uncharacteristically empty Inn, scanned the empty seats, the vacant bar, analyzed everything. Not until he stood in the center of the room did he realize the song was playing, and had accompanied his every step, as haunting as the otherwise vacant commons. He turned towards the piano and it's player, an eyebrow raising in curiosity. Yet he would not, did not interrupt.
The woman's fingers pressed into the keys, suddenly ending the song. Then, with a glance to the ceiling, she smirked. As her fingers flowed, she slowly turned her head to the man, the sustain pedal firmly struck to allow every haunting note bleed out into the Inn."
"Alluvius." She cocked her head to the side, her eyes returning to the keys. "The stench of Alluvius." She giggled to herself over the music.
There were few instances in his life that he could recall such a sensation, as the goosebumps that prickled his arms and the back of his neck in the moment she voiced those words, that word, that name. Of course, she might know of it, but it wasn't the knowledge. It was the tone. His face, already stoic, lost all expression behind a figurative mask of steel. He proceeded toward the piano, the notes played seeming to determine his speed, his rhythm, pulling him like a marionette. For a man who felt little in the way of fear, he took a deep, almost quavering breath before speaking.
"What of it' Does it smell so bad to you? I do not believe it was always so." Factually stated, and concise. Even if his words -were- fired out rather quickly.
"Blood; distant, world or otherwise..." She flowed into something else entirely, the piano an extension of her mind's eye. It was appropriate. She grinned darkly, revealing fangs.
"You all smell the same. From a different world. It's funny, really....there is a stench to each world. Their inhabitants..." She then fell into a chuckle. "Every universe smells different even if the same place and time exists....curious, really....I can always smell your kinds' stench through all of the shit."
She ceased her music, and closed the key cover on the piano. She stood slowly and then turned to him. "Such a pretty boy, aren't you? I suppose Kaius had to get his looks from somewhere."