The Storm Clouds Come.
12-12-2014, 07:22 PM
![[Image: jcar0Xv.png]](http://i.imgur.com/jcar0Xv.png) A familiar of pale wonder and peculiar décor, she is a thing of unspoken novels and a deity of royalty. Though he finds little more time to appreciate her wealth, she is that of kin, and that of the leadership he had so flaccidly sought. She might wander his presence only by his allowance; no longer veiled nor a ghost of wilted existences. Perhaps it is the opposite that near wails of a pre-eminence unearned through exploit but gifted by genetics – a dangerous beauty that by some means defies the law of effeminate beings and weaves unsullied hands in an elegant dance of both masculinity and haunting elegance. He is quiet for a moment; an emotionless façade beaming with peculiar other-worldliness, an almost wavering stare, “But one of many, Roman Armada.” A voice hovered with eerie syllable pause and a memory second to few, he is well familiar of even a woman who does not seem to wholly remember his christening. “I come with an offering that may prove to do little to tempt you, however if it is blood you seek within your numbers, then I present a loose proposal of my contribution.” But as yet, no loyalty to a queen I know little. |
