Lord Chris Sonom (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chrisisofaith) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
makinglies2020-07-02 03:37 pm
chrisisofaith) wrote in makinglies2020-07-02 03:37 pm
Entry tags:
Catching Flies With Honey
The hardwood of the floor dug into Chris' knees, like sharp pinpricks of the reminder he wasn't seventeen and learning how faith worked anymore. Five years down the line and he'd learned to accept the discomfort as part of his devotion to Bane; the black hand favored pain and promise of ruination and those who took power for themselves.
Was he proud of his servant? His cleric who took up his banner with the promise to overthrow those also loyal to him? Probably. After all, this was exactly the kind of game the Dark Tyrant loved.
So Chris didn't move or grab a pillow from the stiff and unyielding couch in the alter room, or move his hand even though he knew it was pressed into the discolored spot of the floor where his cousin's blood had soaked it.
They'd done what they could with the place, cleaned it, painted it, let those go who wished to leave the memories behind with a generous parting gift to get their lives started over. Some had stayed and neither he nor Rhyt could thank them enough; this whole thing was hard enough without needing to hire a whole new staff they likely couldn't trust not to stab them in the backs.
Of course, even if they'd needed to do that, they would have had their 'Guardians' all the same. A God's blessing, their friends. He and Rhyt had stayed up many nights to begin picking at the strings of the tapestry the Listers had smothered the city in, and many of those nights had ended in more than one drink, minds fried, and simply reminiscing to each other how lucky they were to have Amnos, Silver, and Ra'ah at their sides.
Even if her gentle ribbing about the latter most member of that group usually ended in playful wrestling on the study ground until one of them sat on the other in victory.
Chris could feel a soft smile spreading on his face as his thoughts wondered to their resident rouge, his bright eyes and soft hair...the way his skin felt under the callouses on Chris' hands and the sounds he made when they fooled around...
A flush of heat ran through him and he sat back on his heels, hands running down his face and then through his hair. So much for praying.
Muttering small, insincere, Elven curses under his breath, Chris stood and winced at the protest of his legs. How long had it even been? An hour, maybe half more? It was getting late. He blew out the candles he'd lit and replaced the rug they'd put in the room to cover the bloodstains before moving out into the upstairs living area. It was really a glorified landing that held a couple couches at this point, for all the junk they'd sold, only replacing the necessities. He and Rhyt might have wanted to live in this dumb house to dance on the Lister's grave, but that didn't mean they wanted to sleep in their beds.
A quick glance out the windows into the garden confirmed the time, the low, orange light of twilight washing the reds and maroons of the mansion in a warm, almost welcoming glow.
Silver was likely at the pub listening to Candle perform, they'd be back late. Amnos and Chastity were likely somewhere in the house, maybe the library or out in the gardens. He made a mental note to check with the workers tomorrow about the timeline for their house, he wanted it ready before the first (of what Chris suspected were many) little Stonehuer arrived. Rhyt and Ra'ah...honestly, he didn't know. They could be anywhere in the house or not in the house at all...and since they were both rogues, he likely wouldn't be able to guess anyway.
Chris cast Light around him, the ball of radiance following over his shoulder in lieu of a candle as the cleric made his way downstairs to the dry storage. He could call on someone to get a drink for him...that was what nobles did, right? They snapped their fingers, rung a bell, and their servants did everything for them. By all rights, that was what the now-Sonom staff were being paid for. It made the back of his mind itch at the thought, like someone had cast an antimagic field on him and rendered him useless.
No, let the staff clean or cook or take care of the house that was too big even for the six main inhabitants living there, Chris could get his own drink. Something he politely told the two Tabaxi he came across as he went, both offering to help.
No, a drink...maybe a large one or the whole bottle and a glass, if the mood took him, and he'd retreat to those couches back upstairs to watch the rest of daylight's final breaths.
Was he proud of his servant? His cleric who took up his banner with the promise to overthrow those also loyal to him? Probably. After all, this was exactly the kind of game the Dark Tyrant loved.
So Chris didn't move or grab a pillow from the stiff and unyielding couch in the alter room, or move his hand even though he knew it was pressed into the discolored spot of the floor where his cousin's blood had soaked it.
They'd done what they could with the place, cleaned it, painted it, let those go who wished to leave the memories behind with a generous parting gift to get their lives started over. Some had stayed and neither he nor Rhyt could thank them enough; this whole thing was hard enough without needing to hire a whole new staff they likely couldn't trust not to stab them in the backs.
Of course, even if they'd needed to do that, they would have had their 'Guardians' all the same. A God's blessing, their friends. He and Rhyt had stayed up many nights to begin picking at the strings of the tapestry the Listers had smothered the city in, and many of those nights had ended in more than one drink, minds fried, and simply reminiscing to each other how lucky they were to have Amnos, Silver, and Ra'ah at their sides.
Even if her gentle ribbing about the latter most member of that group usually ended in playful wrestling on the study ground until one of them sat on the other in victory.
Chris could feel a soft smile spreading on his face as his thoughts wondered to their resident rouge, his bright eyes and soft hair...the way his skin felt under the callouses on Chris' hands and the sounds he made when they fooled around...
A flush of heat ran through him and he sat back on his heels, hands running down his face and then through his hair. So much for praying.
Muttering small, insincere, Elven curses under his breath, Chris stood and winced at the protest of his legs. How long had it even been? An hour, maybe half more? It was getting late. He blew out the candles he'd lit and replaced the rug they'd put in the room to cover the bloodstains before moving out into the upstairs living area. It was really a glorified landing that held a couple couches at this point, for all the junk they'd sold, only replacing the necessities. He and Rhyt might have wanted to live in this dumb house to dance on the Lister's grave, but that didn't mean they wanted to sleep in their beds.
A quick glance out the windows into the garden confirmed the time, the low, orange light of twilight washing the reds and maroons of the mansion in a warm, almost welcoming glow.
Silver was likely at the pub listening to Candle perform, they'd be back late. Amnos and Chastity were likely somewhere in the house, maybe the library or out in the gardens. He made a mental note to check with the workers tomorrow about the timeline for their house, he wanted it ready before the first (of what Chris suspected were many) little Stonehuer arrived. Rhyt and Ra'ah...honestly, he didn't know. They could be anywhere in the house or not in the house at all...and since they were both rogues, he likely wouldn't be able to guess anyway.
Chris cast Light around him, the ball of radiance following over his shoulder in lieu of a candle as the cleric made his way downstairs to the dry storage. He could call on someone to get a drink for him...that was what nobles did, right? They snapped their fingers, rung a bell, and their servants did everything for them. By all rights, that was what the now-Sonom staff were being paid for. It made the back of his mind itch at the thought, like someone had cast an antimagic field on him and rendered him useless.
No, let the staff clean or cook or take care of the house that was too big even for the six main inhabitants living there, Chris could get his own drink. Something he politely told the two Tabaxi he came across as he went, both offering to help.
No, a drink...maybe a large one or the whole bottle and a glass, if the mood took him, and he'd retreat to those couches back upstairs to watch the rest of daylight's final breaths.