Take that money, watch it burn
05-13-2014, 05:43 PM
On that present day his den was no more a hospital bed that reminded him of his poor health, but a hide-away, a secluded palace of where his busy mind could wander. Contained beneath the walls of the earthy room, The King would find his mind lost within a world of doubt; one that had never truly presented itself to him before. He bored, completely and utterly uninterested in what Glaciem had become in that present time. Whether Sendoa was to blame or not, he would hold her responsible for what it had become; despite, perhaps, that he had been its true source of rot. Frustrated his was at his previously ill health, but even now in his returned vigour something was just not sitting right against those silver shoulders of once-vibrance. He became aware, if not slightly late, that his daughter lingered somewhere nearby. He would not rush to her, but instead remain hidden, if but for a moment more; to rest his pale eyes with the knowledge that somebody he trusted was looking over him, even if he care not to admit that he appreciated it. However now he would rise, and slink so effortlessly from the abode he had made his solitude; her scent would guide him to her vision. So entrapped within a shell of her mother?s beauty, Athena would forever be a reminder of the woman who had betrayed him; and yet, even in that thought she brought back the fine reminiscences he had shared with Argent, as if she were a selective mirror into the brighter regions of a broken couples past. She had always been his little darling; a babe to let coil within the warmth of his body, to prosper and protect her as the tiny child she had always been. And yet there she was; sprawled as a near-adult, so elegant and beautiful, holding a femininity and regality that perhaps he had never truly noticed before. She had always been here, there? wherever; never had she left Glaciem or doubted her father even when the lights grew dim and darkness threatened to fall. Hew oudl approach her in a waltz that was so incredibly famous, but perhaps one that had not been seen for quite some time. And yet instead of drowning her in his embrace, as his body so craved, he would halt before her, and he survey her. Those crimson and emerald eyes could pierce even the toughest of skin; perhaps despite how harmless she were to him, they still bore a determination that could sear ones faith and confidence within themselves. She was no less than- ?Perfect,? he spoke, finishing his own thoughts in a moment of personal bliss. ?She is perfect,? and his cherry lisp would flutter, threaten to snicker, and yet his honesty was unwavering, his features genuine; and he would lift his chin, as if inviting her into his contact. ![[Image: TgW7k5D.png]](http://i.imgur.com/TgW7k5D.png) |
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