- Messages
- 26
Alven - Azren Estate
Cynric rubbed gently at his face, fingers tightening over his features as the whispers continued in his ears. A grimace flickered over his features, teeth gnashing together.
He took a slow breath. It burned his lungs, an acrid smell that shouldn't have been there lingering within his nose. A pulse ran through the base of his spine and up his back. The whispers continued, a quiet chant, rhythmic. They told him truths. They told him his path, the way that he had to go. His muscles seemed to tense for a second, drawing together.
It was so familiar already, that whisper.
To his ears it was like an old friend, a quiet voice that told him what he would have to do, that offered more than advice. The grimace on his face disappeared as he relaxed within his chair, breath releasing as his fingers flexed on the arm of the chair. Eyes drew towards the fire snapping in front of him, watching as the face within it looked back at him.
It's smile mirrored his own.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A knock rang out through the Estate, thundering through the foyer and drawing through the manor. His head turned away, the face within the fire disappearing. The whisper in his head suddenly snapped out of existence, and his smile was replaced with a scowl.
It was a humiliation having to answer his own doors.
Slowly he pushed himself up and out of the cushioned chair. Dust and cobwebs covered the halls he wandered through, ancient tomes and old furniture having fallen into a drab state without the caring touch of proper servants. Cyn stepped through the rooms of his manor until eventually he stood before the front door. With a smooth yank he tugged open the doors, revealing the figure standing there.
Cynric rubbed gently at his face, fingers tightening over his features as the whispers continued in his ears. A grimace flickered over his features, teeth gnashing together.
He took a slow breath. It burned his lungs, an acrid smell that shouldn't have been there lingering within his nose. A pulse ran through the base of his spine and up his back. The whispers continued, a quiet chant, rhythmic. They told him truths. They told him his path, the way that he had to go. His muscles seemed to tense for a second, drawing together.
It was so familiar already, that whisper.
To his ears it was like an old friend, a quiet voice that told him what he would have to do, that offered more than advice. The grimace on his face disappeared as he relaxed within his chair, breath releasing as his fingers flexed on the arm of the chair. Eyes drew towards the fire snapping in front of him, watching as the face within it looked back at him.
It's smile mirrored his own.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A knock rang out through the Estate, thundering through the foyer and drawing through the manor. His head turned away, the face within the fire disappearing. The whisper in his head suddenly snapped out of existence, and his smile was replaced with a scowl.
It was a humiliation having to answer his own doors.
Slowly he pushed himself up and out of the cushioned chair. Dust and cobwebs covered the halls he wandered through, ancient tomes and old furniture having fallen into a drab state without the caring touch of proper servants. Cyn stepped through the rooms of his manor until eventually he stood before the front door. With a smooth yank he tugged open the doors, revealing the figure standing there.