Post by Claire on Apr 8, 2015 19:01:39 GMT
Late in the night, the evening before the great execution, there was a knock upon Garrett’s door. A young boy stood there, clothed in the garb of his majesty’s royal messengers, clutching a summons in his hands. The King was requesting his presence, at once.
Noku could not sleep.
It had been surprisingly difficult to sleep in his chambers since the incident- there was still a rather obvious dent in the floor from his sword and while the pain from his head had mostly faded, there was still a thin line of red stretching across his temple. So for lack of anything else, he sat in the plush chair in his chambers and drank. The sleeping aids had done their work in the previous nights, but he found himself longing for a different sort of oblivion than the unending blackness the sleeping opiates brought.
The Execution would be the next night and he felt that he would be able to sleep easier after that. But there were a few things that couldn’t escape his mind. That woman with a scar across her face, with a wound that hurt him when he touched it being one. Another being the reaction of the people to the execution of the dark-haired woman rotting in the dungeons far below his feet. Severine told him that the public was enthusiastic, but there was a certain trepidation in his mind at the tarring of the Fated. He had no doubt that the dark haired woman was one of them, but the populace was whipped into such a frenzy. He needed someone he could trust unconditionally on the stand with that woman, to keep the populace under control.
He needed Garrett for this.
So Noku waited, wrapped in his dressing gown over his night clothes, drinking the deep sweet wine.
Noku could not sleep.
It had been surprisingly difficult to sleep in his chambers since the incident- there was still a rather obvious dent in the floor from his sword and while the pain from his head had mostly faded, there was still a thin line of red stretching across his temple. So for lack of anything else, he sat in the plush chair in his chambers and drank. The sleeping aids had done their work in the previous nights, but he found himself longing for a different sort of oblivion than the unending blackness the sleeping opiates brought.
The Execution would be the next night and he felt that he would be able to sleep easier after that. But there were a few things that couldn’t escape his mind. That woman with a scar across her face, with a wound that hurt him when he touched it being one. Another being the reaction of the people to the execution of the dark-haired woman rotting in the dungeons far below his feet. Severine told him that the public was enthusiastic, but there was a certain trepidation in his mind at the tarring of the Fated. He had no doubt that the dark haired woman was one of them, but the populace was whipped into such a frenzy. He needed someone he could trust unconditionally on the stand with that woman, to keep the populace under control.
He needed Garrett for this.
So Noku waited, wrapped in his dressing gown over his night clothes, drinking the deep sweet wine.
