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)

Comments

[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.