Jan 23, 2017
@sugared-satyr
“Hey, I remember ye! What was yer name again?”
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@sugared-satyr
“Hey, I remember ye! What was yer name again?”
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@sugared-satyr
“Luna, adesso sei madre ma chi fece di te una donna non c'è.”
The soft woman’s voice wafted through the air like perfumed fog, drowning out the noise of the city. High above the crossroads, sitting on top of a traffic light, a pale glistening figure sang and combed their fingers through their long white hair. In the sunlight the singer seemed to nearly fade to translucence. Below a crowd had gathered. Cars had been abandoned in the middle of the road, infants left unattended. All so the enraptured mortals below could listen to the demon serenading them. A choir of violins accompanied the singing, as light as air.
“Dimmi luna d'argento come lo cullerai se le braccia non hai. Figlio della luna.”
Amduscias sang and observed the wonder on their faces, the rapture. How pretty they looked with their hanging jaws and wide eyes. He slowly came down from his urban throne, sliding down the pole with a certain amount of playfulness to it. The music never once ceased to play. The display was one of uncompromising simplicity. The song itself was not important, but the voice. Oh, the voice...
Amduscias was a beautiful creature by the light of day alone. Lithe graceful limbs, artistic hands, a long aristocratic neck, soft curved lips, eyes like the goddamn dawn itself, and thick silver hair that cascaded down over his shoulders in elegant dishevelment. A masterpiece, he was. But when the voice was added to it, that song he had once taught to the Sirens of Capri and to all the sweet ladies of the sea, then he was irresistible.
“You look like you could use a hand.”
Andras realized he must look a little lost just standing there as he tried to figure out where he was. Since nothing felt familiar, he was glad to find someone who might be able to tell him.
“Well, sure if you could tell me where I am, that might be helpful.”
@sugared-satyr
It had taken a lot of pestering from his father, but in the end with points put forward of his recent travels, his father’s current wish for a personal life, and a certain other topic that he would rather not put any thought toward, D had given in to hiring an agency worker. Of course, he had been incredibly picky with the various paperwork sent to him regarding possible employees as should be expected, but at long last he had found someone to try. He could at least try. That was his thinking.
“One moment.” He spoke clearly as hand had turned the key in the lock, upon which moments prior there had been a set of light raps. At least they were punctual. Pulling the door aside, he gave a smile more akin to that which he reserved for customers than anything genuine. Manners were key. Stepping aside, he had motioned for the one standing outside to enter without paying them any particular attention as a silk slippered foot slipped the bolt into place to hold the oak open for the day, “You must be Mr. Regan, I assume?”
There was no bell on the door as he entered the pet shop, but the satyr was sure the mysterious owner would be alerted of any visitors. Nervously he tottered down the stairs on his heels, one hand clutching the bannister. Kithane was in no way ready to see D but he knew he had to see him, he had to tell him he was back in town and let him know he was not dead, as so many others had assumed he was. "Hello?"
As was correctly assumed, the Count had been well aware of someone entering his store, having risen from his seat to cross the room in his usual graceful strides to greet his customer; this however, had all changed the very moment that he had heard the voice that came with the entry and footsteps.
There was not very much in this world that could break through the measured, and calculated manners in which D acted, though this was one of them. At first he had stumbled, believing his ears had deceived him, hurrying forth to see if his eyes would perceive the same-- There he was.
Hurried steps at this had grown to something quicker, before his arms were suddenly thrown tight around the satyr’s frame, dragging him quite callously into his chest to hold him as close as he was able while features buried to the top of the shorter’s head. He could hardly believe that this was real as he’d clutched Kithane against himself, breathing him in wordlessly, though the shuddering of his lungs with each breath was more than enough of a clue to his current state.
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Ⴜretty as a Ⴜrincess
Excitement wracking his figure, the young Prince had tugged his new ‘gift’ along by his hand. heading straight for his bedroom. The dignitaries that had given this beautiful being to him were no doubt pleased by Poppy’s delighted reaction. Then again, he was known to have such a reaction towards most anything he considered pretty-- And Kithane was certainly at the top of that list today.
“You simply must let me dress you up--” He’d spoken through his smile as he finally had them entering his room, crossing to his closet. It was certainly rare for the Prince to indulge himself in dresses, although that clearly had not meant that he didn’t own them; this proven when he’d finally released the other to lift a large ballgown from it’s place on the rack among a collection of silks and rich fabrics, “What do you think? Something like this?”
“Kithane, I have a small surprise for you-- Close your eyes, and no peaking.” D states in a softened tone, while those ever faint, barely audible footsteps had wandered up behind the Satyr.
A single hand raises to knock twice against the door before Medicine Seller, only to take the handle, allowing himself inside. While he knew full well that this door would not be locked, he at least had manners enough to give a signal of some kind that he was here when it came to this male.
"El-- Which room are you in?" He called, while sliding off his geta out of habit, pushing the wooden shoes to the side of the wall in the entrance way, box as always carried upon his back.