The Second.... Thingy

[quu]

Welcome, outlanders, to the throne room of (presently unconscious) King Alxis of Glazingstoke. The lilac-colored eyes of the sorcerous Prince Joffrey fix with unnerving penetration upon the party of outlanders as he clasps his beloved father to his breast. Limned he is by the last of his flames; their low ebb purples the face of the slumbering king. The echoes of deep magic swirl in the room and color the sunlight that streams through the windows.

"Explain yourselves." He commands. It is the tone of someone who is used to being obeyed immediately.

Behind him, about him, a few guards are coming around from their poisonous nap. Groggy blinking; clumsy, sleep-swollen hands fumbling to check upturned helmets, or grasp weapons, or smooth ruffled feathers. A muffled "wut happnd" slurs from someone's numb lips. Two piles of black ash smoulder silently upon the dais.

(Free-for-all response)

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FOR THE GUYS WHO SUBMITTED

[quu]

Joffrey's quarters.

The prince maintains a regal suite of rooms: aside from the bedroom and parlor (the latter of which is the one into which the prisoners are hustled,) a splendid library lays off to the east, and a commanding view of the sea absorbs the entire western wall of the parlor.

The parlor is tiled in alternating tiles of white marble and malachite, walled in stained oak, and an assortment of fancy, comfortable-looking furniture (couches, chairs, etc.) in carved oak and maroon leather are cozily placed with an eye to the view.

Joffrey himself is not far behind. Indeed when he sweeps into the room, handing off his staff to one guard and his gloves, signatory scarf, and signet of office upon his chain to another guard, he at once smiles kindly at his "guests."

"Please, sit. I do not share my father's... zeal. Perhaps some refreshments?"

He looks different when he's not scowling - a striking face, beautiful and sharp. Not very like his father's.

[mccrusty]

McCoy doesn't have to be asked twice. He picks the least comfortable chair in the room and sinks down, not a little relieved to be off his feet and, at least, not in a cell.

And it gives him an opportunity to give their momentary benefactor a second once-over. The boy favors his mother, eh?

"Your father should lie down a bit, if you ask me. He's pushin' himself a bit too much." And, maybe, a calmer king would be easier to reason with. "If you got fresh water, I'll take it. Otherwise I packed away a good breakfast before I left this morning."

[yowokomete]

Shonagon notes that indeed, Joffrey doesn't look very like his father. She tries to recall if she's heard anything of this country's queen--a prince doesn't happen without a mother, after all--but nothing comes immediately to mind.

"If it's no trouble," she says, "tea would do wonders to settle my nerves." She looks around the room, delighted by the tiled floor and the warm colors of the furniture. The striking colors of the malachite are particularly charming.

FOR BOTH MCCOY AND SHONAGON

[quu]

"Please obtain some tea for the lady," Joffrey says to one of the guards. He is hastily obeyed. "As for your water..."

He pours it himself from a magnificent silver pitcher into a clear glass goblet not entirely unlike a wineglass. A benevolent expression upon his face, he curls his arm under his robes and long sleeves, and arranges himself onto a couch facing McCoy.

"My father concerns himself with the well-being of his kingdom--of which he is the heart and head. I confess, I am shocked..."

Here the very polished prince seems to lose his focus. Troubled, his black brows knitting over a pale face, he fixes first McCoy and then Shonagon with his ardent gaze.

"If I had not been there... I cannot leave him now."

There is something very final in his tone.

[yowokomete]

"Were you considering leaving him before?" Shonagon asks lightly. She makes sure not to meet the prince's gaze, lest she be taken as rude; instead she turns her eyes on his elaborate robes. The long sleeves are charming, she thinks; if he wore more layers, the prince could potentially be welcomed at her own court.