Under the cover night, where the stars bathed the sky, Archebold sat atop of mansion of ruin. Stained glass windows, shattered and rotted. A large bell hung still, having never cut through the air with it's blaring rings. His eyes sealed as he attempted to gather the sounds of life or lack there of around him.
This...this was true freedom. No tether, no law, no duty...just natural evolution. As it always should have been.
Slender fingers twirled the golden lions head knob of his ivory walking stick. Twirled and caught in several pensive intervals as his blackened eyes opened to scan over the ruin beneath.
Archebold lay claim over the mansion, to which he would rebuild. His blood will pierce this stone to make in his image. Elegant, strong, defiant of all that surround it. It will stand proud and tall among the rubble.
He stood and turned toward the bronze bell behind him, his steps careful among the crumpled shingles of the mansion's roofing. Approaching, his hand gently wiped the dust as the shimmer of the moonlight greeted him.
A grin, rather satisfied with his claim, appeared as he reached and tapped the bell with his stick, faint chimes echoed as he would leap down into the hole along the roof, landing onto his feet in what appeared like a study. He sat upon a dusted, lavishly cushioned chair that overlooked the remnants of a shattered window that nearly covered the wall entirely. Again the stick twirled and was caught, tapping when done so against the dull wooded floor.
Wessex
This...this was true freedom. No tether, no law, no duty...just natural evolution. As it always should have been.
Slender fingers twirled the golden lions head knob of his ivory walking stick. Twirled and caught in several pensive intervals as his blackened eyes opened to scan over the ruin beneath.
Archebold lay claim over the mansion, to which he would rebuild. His blood will pierce this stone to make in his image. Elegant, strong, defiant of all that surround it. It will stand proud and tall among the rubble.
He stood and turned toward the bronze bell behind him, his steps careful among the crumpled shingles of the mansion's roofing. Approaching, his hand gently wiped the dust as the shimmer of the moonlight greeted him.
A grin, rather satisfied with his claim, appeared as he reached and tapped the bell with his stick, faint chimes echoed as he would leap down into the hole along the roof, landing onto his feet in what appeared like a study. He sat upon a dusted, lavishly cushioned chair that overlooked the remnants of a shattered window that nearly covered the wall entirely. Again the stick twirled and was caught, tapping when done so against the dull wooded floor.
