Post by Aria on Nov 27, 2007 22:36:57 GMT -5
This chapter is dedicated to a lil' puppy that needs to get well soon. <3
Umm... Any characters that aren't mine, aren't mine. XD And belong to others. So nyeh.
...seriously, get better... Or..or..
I'll give you Snapple and Chipotle. >:/
Merciless blue eyes stared into nothing, and yet saw…everything.
Many might’ve argued, if they even had the brain capacity to understand an inkling of his plan, that it was too soon to be so confident.
Then again, many were idiots.
His strong paws came together, fingertips pressing together before that same gaze looked over the digits, down to the canine standing before him. Hardly before him, more like…
…beneath him. Ah yes, that would do nicely.
The canine beneath him fidgeted somewhat nervously beneath his Lord’s gaze. Dressed in the bright red of a Harper, he had the standard look about him, despite the somewhat worn cap he usually wore. A crimson colored feather stuck out from the cap, as it was being kneaded by paws, a shock of white head fur perpetually ruffled where the hat usually sat on the young Dalmatians head.
Giving a noticeable gulp, Lundon wouldn’t have been normally nervous in his Lord’s presence. In fact, the young canine was known for his impertinence, usually smacking his lips around an apple when he delivered news. He was, after all, the Royal Harper; in charge of coming up with new songs to remember important events, in teaching the young ones, and in any delegation in the Kingdom that was beneath the interest of the King.
Those were his official duties. The more unapproved dealings had to do with gambling, gossiping, and womanizing.
Lundon cleared his throat, “Er…Beggin’ m’pardon…”
“Speak.” The cold voice held no patience for formality, as well as stuttering.
“Too roit. Well, M’lord…they…” There was a visible cringe, “Haventrepliedtoyerrequest!” The rest came out in a hurried yelp.
The eyes flickered to the canine, as if regarding something that wasn’t significant enough to bother him. “As I expected.”
Lundon practically squawked, “Wot!? Ya.. Ya bloody roit GIT!” His hat was thrown down before him, before realizing what he had done and quickly stooped down to retrieve it, brushing dust off affectionately. “Ya had me all worried I was gon’ get smited on the bloody ground I stood, ya did!”
The disrespect went unnoticed, it would seem; which was a much more chilling reaction than any demands of an apology.
“You did not, Harper, expect anything else from Them? Of course they wouldn’t reply; a refusal would be seen as an insult.” The corners of that thin line that made the King’s mouth, twitched. “That would have been much more convenient. “No…No. They have played their part.”
Braver than he had been five minutes ago, Harper Lundon jammed his hat onto his head, giving a huff. “Are ya gonna tell any o’ yer loyal subjects,” He lifted his paws to make air quotations. “About yer Grand Scheme, oh King Brother o’ mine?” There was a pause, “Th’Blacksmith finds yer sword designs…unsettlin’. And the beastmaster is besides ‘imself. Doesn’t know why y’wanna have Corrosive fitted f’armor, iffin’s it’s only a Gather we’re attendin’!” His words faltered at the sudden icy feeling which pierced his heart.
King Tic-Tac, was not amused, that much was apparent from the lowering of his eyelids, and the furrow of his brows. The glare he shot at Lundon would’ve frozen lava.
“Do you mean to tell me…” His voice was calm, and yet somehow deadly in it’s young tenor, “…That my subjects have reason to doubt what their King does? Do you believe that they have that right?” The question was allowed to hang in the air.
“N..no, M’Lord..”
“See to it that any questions directed at my own private motives, are…dissolved.” The last word came out in a light hiss.
“Yessir! ‘course sir! I’ll..Oh, is that the dinner chime!?” Lundon said in a quick panic, bowing his way out of the large chamber, though he made sure to walk backwards.
Nobody ever turned their back on the King.
Well, no one lived to tell about it.
“Shikes…” Lundon muttered under his breath, glancing to the guard that was constantly placed at the archway into the Grand Room, where the King held his audiences. “Bloody good on Rose to have the sense to leave.” He was still talking to himself, lifting his paw in farewell to the guard.
Chopper only glanced at his brother, a ghost of a smirk flashing across his muzzle. He’d much rather be watching the Horse Races, but a burly pup such as he usually got stuck with Guard Duty.
“Yeah..” Lundon heaved a sigh, “Bloody good on’ ‘er.”
King Tic-Tac watched his brother leave, slowly sitting in an upright position atop his gnarled looking thrown. He had made a few…redesigns to the Throne Room, much bleaker, much darker. Much more…sterile. Only a single portrait hung upon the black stone walls.
With a flutter of a cape, the Lord of Shoolted stood and slowly began to walk down the steps leading up to his black seat. The blood red carpet beneath his leather soles left no imprint of him, or any other treading on it. Fine quality, it was.
He couldn’t have been any older than the canine Harper who had come to deliver the anticipated response. Or rather, the lack of one. His brother, he mused emotionlessly, could be rather melodramatic.
His fur was meticulously groomed, shimmering with the health of a virile pup, littered with blotches of black, like many of the canines in his Kingdom. One eye sported a large circular spot, the other dashed diagonally by an X. His bright and stony gaze shone through, and it wasn’t his lightly muscled torso that frightened off anyone who opposed him. Beneath a heavy golden crown, three tufts of headfur shot out almost defiantly, tipped with black.
He wore black clothing, more for comfort rather than any significant reason. His cape did have a deep red underside, and fluttered ominously behind him as he moved with a purpose towards the exit of his throne room.
He paused near the solitary portrait, still staring straight on. Only a single paw lifted to touch the painted cheek of the smiling face, an older Dalmatian female. Her death had been needless, taken from him by Death himself, and in her sickly demise, he had realized his true purpose.
No pup should have to carry the burden of a Kingdom on his shoulders alone. His innocent had been ripped from him, just as his Mother had been ripped from his life.
The paw curled into a fist against the painting, before realizing the disrespect and yanking his paw back as if he had been burned.
A calming breath was sucked in through his nose, held, before he let it out in an impassive hiss. Now was not the time to be a mourning child. He was the ruler, he was King, and had been for a few months now.
He was ambitious as well, no one could deny that.
“Now. To see that Blacksmith…” He’d leave a day late for the Gather, he knew. Of course he knew; he planned it. The appropriate precautions were being made, and his actions would only appear non-chalant, if not rude to the Invitation he had received seven days prior.
How fitting, they should invite him.
He had been planning to pay the Dearly Kingdom a visit…
A sound escaped his throat, something of a chuckle as the strong youth walked out into the nippy, foggy air. It seemed the weather had a habit of mirroring his moods.
Today, held a foreboding chill, with a slight chance of deception.
Umm... Any characters that aren't mine, aren't mine. XD And belong to others. So nyeh.
...seriously, get better... Or..or..
I'll give you Snapple and Chipotle. >:/
Merciless blue eyes stared into nothing, and yet saw…everything.
Many might’ve argued, if they even had the brain capacity to understand an inkling of his plan, that it was too soon to be so confident.
Then again, many were idiots.
His strong paws came together, fingertips pressing together before that same gaze looked over the digits, down to the canine standing before him. Hardly before him, more like…
…beneath him. Ah yes, that would do nicely.
The canine beneath him fidgeted somewhat nervously beneath his Lord’s gaze. Dressed in the bright red of a Harper, he had the standard look about him, despite the somewhat worn cap he usually wore. A crimson colored feather stuck out from the cap, as it was being kneaded by paws, a shock of white head fur perpetually ruffled where the hat usually sat on the young Dalmatians head.
Giving a noticeable gulp, Lundon wouldn’t have been normally nervous in his Lord’s presence. In fact, the young canine was known for his impertinence, usually smacking his lips around an apple when he delivered news. He was, after all, the Royal Harper; in charge of coming up with new songs to remember important events, in teaching the young ones, and in any delegation in the Kingdom that was beneath the interest of the King.
Those were his official duties. The more unapproved dealings had to do with gambling, gossiping, and womanizing.
Lundon cleared his throat, “Er…Beggin’ m’pardon…”
“Speak.” The cold voice held no patience for formality, as well as stuttering.
“Too roit. Well, M’lord…they…” There was a visible cringe, “Haventrepliedtoyerrequest!” The rest came out in a hurried yelp.
The eyes flickered to the canine, as if regarding something that wasn’t significant enough to bother him. “As I expected.”
Lundon practically squawked, “Wot!? Ya.. Ya bloody roit GIT!” His hat was thrown down before him, before realizing what he had done and quickly stooped down to retrieve it, brushing dust off affectionately. “Ya had me all worried I was gon’ get smited on the bloody ground I stood, ya did!”
The disrespect went unnoticed, it would seem; which was a much more chilling reaction than any demands of an apology.
“You did not, Harper, expect anything else from Them? Of course they wouldn’t reply; a refusal would be seen as an insult.” The corners of that thin line that made the King’s mouth, twitched. “That would have been much more convenient. “No…No. They have played their part.”
Braver than he had been five minutes ago, Harper Lundon jammed his hat onto his head, giving a huff. “Are ya gonna tell any o’ yer loyal subjects,” He lifted his paws to make air quotations. “About yer Grand Scheme, oh King Brother o’ mine?” There was a pause, “Th’Blacksmith finds yer sword designs…unsettlin’. And the beastmaster is besides ‘imself. Doesn’t know why y’wanna have Corrosive fitted f’armor, iffin’s it’s only a Gather we’re attendin’!” His words faltered at the sudden icy feeling which pierced his heart.
King Tic-Tac, was not amused, that much was apparent from the lowering of his eyelids, and the furrow of his brows. The glare he shot at Lundon would’ve frozen lava.
“Do you mean to tell me…” His voice was calm, and yet somehow deadly in it’s young tenor, “…That my subjects have reason to doubt what their King does? Do you believe that they have that right?” The question was allowed to hang in the air.
“N..no, M’Lord..”
“See to it that any questions directed at my own private motives, are…dissolved.” The last word came out in a light hiss.
“Yessir! ‘course sir! I’ll..Oh, is that the dinner chime!?” Lundon said in a quick panic, bowing his way out of the large chamber, though he made sure to walk backwards.
Nobody ever turned their back on the King.
Well, no one lived to tell about it.
“Shikes…” Lundon muttered under his breath, glancing to the guard that was constantly placed at the archway into the Grand Room, where the King held his audiences. “Bloody good on Rose to have the sense to leave.” He was still talking to himself, lifting his paw in farewell to the guard.
Chopper only glanced at his brother, a ghost of a smirk flashing across his muzzle. He’d much rather be watching the Horse Races, but a burly pup such as he usually got stuck with Guard Duty.
“Yeah..” Lundon heaved a sigh, “Bloody good on’ ‘er.”
King Tic-Tac watched his brother leave, slowly sitting in an upright position atop his gnarled looking thrown. He had made a few…redesigns to the Throne Room, much bleaker, much darker. Much more…sterile. Only a single portrait hung upon the black stone walls.
With a flutter of a cape, the Lord of Shoolted stood and slowly began to walk down the steps leading up to his black seat. The blood red carpet beneath his leather soles left no imprint of him, or any other treading on it. Fine quality, it was.
He couldn’t have been any older than the canine Harper who had come to deliver the anticipated response. Or rather, the lack of one. His brother, he mused emotionlessly, could be rather melodramatic.
His fur was meticulously groomed, shimmering with the health of a virile pup, littered with blotches of black, like many of the canines in his Kingdom. One eye sported a large circular spot, the other dashed diagonally by an X. His bright and stony gaze shone through, and it wasn’t his lightly muscled torso that frightened off anyone who opposed him. Beneath a heavy golden crown, three tufts of headfur shot out almost defiantly, tipped with black.
He wore black clothing, more for comfort rather than any significant reason. His cape did have a deep red underside, and fluttered ominously behind him as he moved with a purpose towards the exit of his throne room.
He paused near the solitary portrait, still staring straight on. Only a single paw lifted to touch the painted cheek of the smiling face, an older Dalmatian female. Her death had been needless, taken from him by Death himself, and in her sickly demise, he had realized his true purpose.
No pup should have to carry the burden of a Kingdom on his shoulders alone. His innocent had been ripped from him, just as his Mother had been ripped from his life.
The paw curled into a fist against the painting, before realizing the disrespect and yanking his paw back as if he had been burned.
A calming breath was sucked in through his nose, held, before he let it out in an impassive hiss. Now was not the time to be a mourning child. He was the ruler, he was King, and had been for a few months now.
He was ambitious as well, no one could deny that.
“Now. To see that Blacksmith…” He’d leave a day late for the Gather, he knew. Of course he knew; he planned it. The appropriate precautions were being made, and his actions would only appear non-chalant, if not rude to the Invitation he had received seven days prior.
How fitting, they should invite him.
He had been planning to pay the Dearly Kingdom a visit…
A sound escaped his throat, something of a chuckle as the strong youth walked out into the nippy, foggy air. It seemed the weather had a habit of mirroring his moods.
Today, held a foreboding chill, with a slight chance of deception.