'Different kingdom…same nobles. They could shake up some habits. For me…little variety and all that. Don't suppose anyone has every told them about variety being the spice of life…'
Raxwel exhaled, unbothered by the plume of smoke, and appeared to be more interested in inspecting the cigar he held than the those passing by the spot he'd chosen to settle in for the afternoon.
The reality — as it often was — was something very different.
After several weeks in Silvermoon he'd come to the rather boring conclusion that whether it was nobility in Stormwind, nobility in Gilneas, or nobility here…they played all the same games, and they had all the same rules. Though they all wanted everyone to think it was different.
It really was quite disappointing.
They tried to dress it up and make it look a little different…but if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck then…well…
He huffed, bringing the cigar to his lips once again.
Kyden had wandered off with Finn — a little adventure of his own (he'd gone to visit his mother and had taken Finn for emotional support…and also for help in case he got lost), and he could only do so much people watching when all the details were so painfully similar.
He was getting bored, and he tended to find trouble when he was bored.
The last thing he needed was to be chased by the city's guards…again.
Another exhale, another plume, his thoughts drifting — there was one possibility, though…how long had it been? Two years? Three? It had to have been longer than that.
The last time they spoke he didn't know about Reynault…he certainly didn't know about Kyden.
Raxwel hummed, considering what remained of the cigar for a long moment before disposing of it. He had…disappeared for no small amount of time. Perhaps a conversation was a bit over do.
T,
I seem to have found myself in your neck of the woods, if you will.
It's certainly no Dalaran, but at least this time I'm not scaling the walls to evade the guards…yet. Though I'm sure that will happen, given enough time.
You know me, given the time and opportunity I will find trouble. Or create it. One or the other.
If you've an interest - perhaps an opportunity to catch up? Since it's been no few years?
Let me know — I'll be in the city a few weeks longer.
Not quite deeply asleep, Bella sprung up and awake as soon as the loud bang came at her window. She became coherent just in time to see the bloody piece of meat? Roll off the glass leaving a gory red grime behind. What the hell? She muttered under her breath, half annoyed and half concerned. Bellatrix was on her feet padding across the room to the window, she opened it, suddenly very alert and glanced down. It took but a few seconds to put together why two men would be here disturbing her slumber. One was Tom, and one was without a tongue.
Bellatrix pulled the window open and leaned out. "Tom!" She hissed. "Are you drunk? My father is going to kill you if he sees you out here, and then me." The muggle was babbling wordless sobs and pleas of mercy, watching her with begging eyes. Hoping she'd be the one to save him.
"Get that asshole out of here! Look at my window!" Bella hadn't seen her friend Tom since they graduated eight months prior. How impolite!
Tom frowned.
He had not expect such a chilled reception. Already a bit ware worn from the travel. His black cloak damp from the windy rains in London. The moans of tongue less was gnawing on his last nerve. Tom turned and to put him out of both of their misery. In a flash of green the problem slumped over.
Tom rounded in a hiss, “Better?”
He rushed over the hedges and more under her window, “If you don’t want dear old Daddy coming out you best let me in.”
Tom flashed her a smile, “Or perhaps Father will let me in.”
