Gael hasten down the hall, the heel of his boots clack against the newly washed marble flooring and squeaks quietly when he lifts his feet. The servants scamper out of his way, casting their gazes to the floor and bowing their head low. He waves them off and they scuttle away. Exhaling, he rolls his eyes and passes numerous paintings, all displaying different eras and bloodlines. Gael pays the art no attention and keeps his gaze focused ahead of him, he turns to the left and passes various doors, finally halting when he comes to a tall, large door made of smooth walnut wood, sanded to perfection.
Pausing, he hesitates, dreading the upcoming meeting which will likely spiral into an argument about something ridiculous such as what lace to use to decorate their clothes. The obvious answer is Alençon lace, it elevates even the simplest designs. He exhales once more then pushes the left door open, it swings loudly and he winces then tries to sneak in. "Late once more, Gael." He groans internally and lazily rolls his head to face the Elder whom rests in his cushioned chair, beside him is Madam. "Did we not already have a conversation pertaining to your poor timing?"
The door slams shut behind him, likely due to a servant, and his shoulders tense. Asasel gestures to the chair next to Amro, who is doodling on his paperwork, and Gael drudges towards it. "You're lucky the Countess is running late." Phaeln chimes in, her voices grates against his ears. Her tone as condescending as always. "Hush it, girl." Gael hisses, baring his teeth at the child. She taunts him further by sticking her tongue out and a soft exsaperated sigh follows as Madam interrupts. "Let's Not Argue In The War-Room." Asasel gently corrects his lover. "Boardroom, dear, we aren't at war." "Yet." She responds. Asasel glances their way and brushes his hand over her glove. Gael slumps in his seat, Phaelen copies him as to irritate him further and Amro notices, snickering at the display.
The door creaks open again in a timid, reluctant manner as Callum enters the room. His gaze directed to the floor as he begrudingly approaches the table. Finding he seats, he claspes his hands together and rests his elbow on the surface of the wooden table, creasing the map laid across it. Gael eyes him critically, scoffing at the somber display on his face, his nose scrunches as he analyzes the sorrowful slump of Callum's posture. rolling his eyes, Gael turns away, mumblingly about how dramatic his coven member is and Callum winces. Amro glances at his brother and bites his lip, resisiting the urge to correct his callous behavior. Fortunately, The Elder politely chastises him. "Gael, Do not be so cold." Gael's face burns with embarassment and mutters an insincere apololgy. Phaelen's narrow eyes flit between the two, observing the tension and braces for any sort of argument.
Fortunately the wooden doors are forved open with a dramatic display of dominance belonging only to Countess Naia. She pauses, building suspense as the attention is turned to her. Her posture is straight as a rod, shoulders square and balanced. Adorning her is the latest fashion, a sharp fitting suit hightlighting her dark skin and elegant curls. Stepping into the room, she struts to the table and places her palms on the surface. A quirky, sharp tooth smile graces her face as her boisterous voice greets the room. "Good Evening, My Dear Family, We Have Much To Discuss."
I did not wann write this you guys, but i did and introduced two new characters! Sorry about my absenc, but hello! Man i really need to read more 😭My vocab is struggling, it's depressing me :/
Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed and now i can start working on something else, don't worry the story isn't done yet. I justwant to write some other stuff for a little bit, I'll be back to this soon. I assure you.
