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‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ✥ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
Adrian let out a long, exasperated exhale as he left Crookback, stomach pained, head spiraling in sickening spins; blood loss, and bad blood mounting in his skull. Tnk… Tnk… Tnk… His slowed, meandering heel steps rang out in the dark night's calmed air, moonlight painting his horribly frizzy hair a glossy lavender. There was no rush, no worry; though always danger dwelling this close to the nest of dragon-slaves. In the dulled, lantern-lit streets he need only walk a single block to his home; "La Casa De Marillia". He chuckled at the memory, signing it after he had picked it up from the carpenter in a prissy, fanciful font that twisted and curled in elegant cursive; like the natural ornateness of a rose bush in its perfection. Still, his pleasant memories were interrupted by that tearing hole in his chest, the loathsome, pity-made stitches occupying his mind. "Horrible," he mused aloud to the fluttering flies that cracked against the glass of the street lanterns, looking down at their crisscrossing design over paled skin, already scarring, "absolutely wretched work from a slave-girl."
The slave girl… Kauket was her name; a half-beast bastard from Daenshore. Memories crept back to the plantation, the beating sun and long days in the company of tutors; primarily educated slaves his parents had shelled out money for. Perhaps they were for him, or his siblings, or maybe they were just a way to keep him out of their hair with his constant need to question… The Castillo had fixed what years of tutoring couldn't in the span of seven long years. Slaves, after all, lacked the tact of a knight and always feared the idea of cracking a child over the hands with a wood-carved ruler; something the roughed skin on Adrian's knuckles proved was not the case for the illustrious, Monzon order. Kauket, though, the name boiled his blood at what she had said, the searing, agonizing mark she had left on his cheek stinging no matter how much he tried to scrape it off with his gloves; rubbing the skin from his face under the pressure. His brain buzzed with the name, the memories of a wine and dine between sworn enemies, a taunting session of calm detente that had punctuated the time following the fall of the festering Kade estate. Like a hellfire that burned in his wallowing, dimmed heart, he wanted to break her beneath his boot like simple prey, to prove himself worthy of the triumphant praise that he so often craved but no one would offer without results; a victory. It was hideous, Dorkarthian feelings of vile loathing; the seething desire to be masculine, to be the strongest one could be through the challenges and tribulations of life whilst hiding all emotion beneath the veneer of apathy; the way of the Desprinces. Here was this woman— this mixed-bred tomcat who sought to curb his righteous ambitions! She had only tended to him to show her power of him, he decided in his heart-of-hearts, his blood boiling with anger that he could only express through a tightly-closed fist and tensed brows, she chose to leave him alive so that she may push him into the dirt, into the muck, and strip away his silks and blood; what proved his worth when nothing else would! He longed for nothing more at that moment than to stab that woman with the blade of his dagger in the space between where her ribs met and let her cough and sputter at his mercy, screaming and bleeding out like a stuck pig at the butchery. Drip! Drip! Drip! The sounds of a far-off pipe, likely connected to the sewers, mimicked the rancid cascade of blood that would pour from her stomach until she could no longer squirm and that fanged mouth of hers could only hang open as she paled and tumbled into the endless abyss of an afterlife!...
Tnk… Click. His footsteps stopped against a scratchy doormat, the locking mechanism of the oaken entrance sounding as he turned its knob gingerly. He opened the rustic door to his home, met with the coldness of long since-burning lights that had clothed his house in a cozy glow, but now, in the nightfall of evening, only showed their blackened, burned-out wicks. He had always wanted a slave to maintain his home whilst he was away... Removing his boots, caked in muck, glass, and other fluids, bodily or not, he left them by the door so he may polish them tomorrow before his, now daily, commute to the Court that now occupied Greygate; filling its disgusting, unkept halls with their petulant squabbles and daggers they sought to guide into each other's backs. Closing the door behind with a quiet push, barely louder than he had entered, he moved upstairs, bare feet on the soft, dark wood. As his hair fumbled and pulled, trying to tie itself into a bun despite its worn-out, bramble-like demeanor, he entered his bedding chambers; the only light creeping in being the moonlight from the still-open shutters, a sweeping gust of evening breeze touching his chalcedony-chiseled features; frozen in apathy despite the lack of in the air. Pulling back the uncomfortable, writing chair from his desk, taking no care tonight to muffle its screech, he pushed himself into it and worked on lighting the candle. Once it had been properly lit, masking his face in swirling, orange incandescence, he opened the drawer that occupied the front of the escritoire that he now sat behind. From the darkened hovel he pulled out a quill and ink, opening the luxurious bottle with a loud, popping noise, as well as a thin sheet of parchment to scrawl upon. Piercing the tip of the feather into the dim liquid, he tapped the excess off in the silent bedroom; the only returning sound being the quiet crackling of the candlestick. Clearing his throat, he spoke what he inscribed into the yellowed paper, feather penning in prim, calligraphic font, beginning, "To the loathed Kauket..."
~[OOC NOTES]~
This is a character story involving the Feka Asha, Kauket (played by @Naramm ), and Adrian(My Maraya)!
This is, also, my first attempt at a character story so I hope you enjoyed it!
Involved Character Documents:
✥Adrian Marillia✥
✥Kauket Ravajor'elle✥
Thank you for reading!
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