he ambles up a thick stone stairway delighting in the rich beat of his heavy boot as it climbs each cold stone step. a metrical pace builds as his body nods in rhythm with each small jump, a life-like pendulum swinging its way up the dark staircase. reaching the top, he sniffs the air curiously. where were all the servants? the court held an eerie silence that tugged gently at his insides. his immortal instinct was, no doubt, forewarning him of that of which he was so ignorantly waltzing into.

he had been in the city almost a fortnight. he did not fear his sister nor did he dislike her in any way. he was somewhat afraid of her reaction to his absence as well as his discourteous departure on the night of the ball of the flesh. he had been restless in the castle at first. he was wary of his surroundings, and the paranoia that built up inside him regarding this new land was seemingly unbearable. this, as well as his interest in his new home had driven him from the castle. he had often heard stories of this new continent to be explored, claimed, and anally raped by the settlers, and naturally, Samir, the malicious bastard wanted in on the fun.

he hurried down a hall in the north tower, a little uneasily. this was due to that gaping silence as well as the fact that he was unsure of where he was headed. he would proceed to Lamia’s bedroom--provided that he could find it. he stopped momentarily by a long mirror hanging in the hall. he peered into the reflection and sighed. if only he could find a servant around here to help him get cleaned up for Lamia. it was true that he was troubled about her state when he returned. the redheaded brat could be set off easily, and he wished not to push her anger any further. he brushed his greasy dark locks from out his forehead with pale, quivering fingers and left the mirror, completely unsatisfied with his appearance. as he neared Lamia’s bedchambers--for he had indeed managed to navigate himself there--he gave his head a shake. since when did he care about appearances? surely, there was no such female back home he would give a damn for. he sensed himself weakening as his ashen fingers clenched the door frame to swing himself into Lamia’s chambers. weakness was not a beneficial attribute for him to obtain at that moment. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- at first he hadn’t thought it was Lamia’s room he had entered. he had begun to turn back into the hall before he spotted Lamia. she was sitting, cross-legged on the charred floor of what must’ve once been her tasteful bedchambers but now was barely conceivable as a room. the stone walls and floor are ravaged by some unknown accident--or was it an accident?--a large amount of Lamia’s furniture is missing, leaving gaping black holes of scorched stone to envelop the room. the initial shock wears out of his eyes but it is mirrored in Lamia’s sooty face. her crimson locks are frazzled, tied back clumsily. there is something else, too. a crazed look of senility sets in her face, in her eyes, atop baggy their rims. and, of course, her mouth is pursed into that tight smile of determination. feral violence burns in her eyes, and, in all his manly power, he is struck with fright. he hangs, suspended between the charred door frame, lower lip quivering slightly. he knows not how to reply to the redheaded beast, basking in her own dismal depression. he has known the brat for far too long and he knows her far too well to fail to dignify that with a foolish reply. he also knows better than to go lumbering into the room whilst she remained in such a state. the fact that he wishes not to enrage his sister does not imply that he is afraid of her reaction. true enough, his fleet of fright has passed, and he leans against the door frame coolly. he crooks his lip into a slight frown, knitting his eyebrows in contemplation. obviously, all hell has broken loose in this court during his absence. either that, or this is just how the absurd immortals waste their money in their large stone playground. he smirks slightly at this though. surely, he would delight in having dozens of his own rooms to put to his mischievous disposal. this could not be the case. something had happened, and Lamia’s room was tarnished. she was in a violent state of depression, and would likely strike out at anyone who neared. this might very well be the reason silence echoed through the halls. the disloyal mortal beasts had most likely run off for fear. his mind turned back to the situation. her words still hung in the air, tempting him for a reply. instead, he changed the subject, adding a clever remark that would surely put his ass even further out on the line then a meagre reply. "Splendid room, Lamia. I really fancy what you’ve done with the place." he offers a smile in her direction, a mindless attempt to cheer up the beast. he shakes his head at his own stupidity. he meant not to anger her, and now he has just enraged her. he instinctively braces himself for her torrent of anger. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- he turns to her, startled. maybe the beast was tired of playing angry and depressed. he returns the smile somewhat hesitantly, lest this be another of her traps. no, Lamia is genuine this eve’. he scratches the previous thought off his mental notepad and moves towards her. he sits down on the marble slap beside her and begins to untie his boots. he chooses to tackle these, caked in dirt with their appalling smell, rather than admit to Lamia’s last comment. indeed, he had left her, shameful to think it, let alone dare to speak it. "Don’t condescend yourself, Lamia. If you threw yourself at me full force, I’m sure you could easily knock me over. Generally, though, I don’t fear women throwing themselves at me. I‘m sure there are far worse things in this menacing little world." he chuckles slightly, peering around the room, completely dazzled with it‘s disarray of order. "So, honestly, Lamia. What on earth happened here?" he grunts, tugging at his stubborn boot, refusing to release his weary foot. he continues tugging at his boot, seemingly oblivious to her intense anger and raw emotion. should she choose to cast him aside, she would be at loss. she would never do so, at least, he hoped she wouldn’t. he was again growing fond of her in the same way he had as a young boy. she had power over him, and she knew it. when she left, he had grown to be a powerful an successful man, afraid of nothing. now he was again with her "Had I thrown myself at you, I promise I would do more than merely knock you to your backside." "I’m shocked no one has alerted you to my goings-on. In short, several of my questions were ignored as if insignificant, and I slaughtered the servants - made a pyre on the carpet father gave me." "Did Ophelia send you away from me, Samir? Do you do her bidding now?" ----------------------CUT OFF--------------------------