Informant || Tehodis Dec 2, 2016 10:32:12 GMT -7
Post by Markus Woodrow on Dec 2, 2016 10:32:12 GMT -7
Late Evening on the 12th
The Scales of Judgement, 5152
Lord Markus Woodrow's Den
The Woodrow Estate in Eersaeb, Submiere
The moment Vincent had left, Markus had set upon himself the task of looking more presentable. He had just spent a day and a half on board a ship, and before that had spent far too long in the acrid continent of Acheron. Vincent's opinion on such things right after a voyage mattered little, if at all, to Markus. Tehodis' opinion on the other hand... Well, he knew that if he wanted to woo her, he would want to at least smell appealing. He saw Vincent to the stairs - Vincent had been there enough that the servants knew to stay away from him - and then went to the extravagant bathroom he had renovated only a few years ago.
Everything was marble with touches of gold, and there was a shower - a newer invention when he had got it - that was the size of an entire room. He had missed this. Parts of Dirys were actually quite well equipped, but he had stayed in Enezenn, who's amenities left much to be desired; then he was to Muerte where - even in Harel's capital city - was in worse straits than Enezenn; and finally to Liesdro, where they he had finally gotten some acceptable treatment... But too little was too late.
Now, however, he was back home. The warm water - scented with lilies - poured over him and made him feel fresh. The rock salt scrub brought him back to earth, back to Submiere, back home. He felt like a Sultan once more - and it was a Sultan he would be, he knew. Someday.
He dried and dressed himself again, finally wearing the casual clothing he adorned only in the privacy of his own home - typically only in the eyes of his servants, and occasionally Vincent. Tehodis hadn't seen this side of him. The loose silk shirt in deep green whose fabric clung ever so slightly to his moist physique; his pants were tight to his waist of a soft fabric, and he decided to forego the loose jacket despite the chill of the coming winter. Once his clothing was perfected, and the cologne had offered him an oaken musk, he made his way to his den. His servants had provided the wine he requested, and a fire was crackling in front of the Cindermaw-skin rug. As the fire crackled, the rug would warm with the remnants of the life it once covered.
He poured himself a glass of wine and sat himself on the extravagant couch, lounging comfortably as he awaited his second meeting. The knock that came - just in time, because she was punctual as always - was far quieter than that of Vincent. Vincent knocked with purpose. Tehodis... With meekness. He hoped that one day she would relieve herself of that meekness around him. Permit him to see who she was.
For now, this was technically a meeting of business. She was his new informant... And he would get the information he sought... As well as a chance to show her a different side of him. The knock came again, this time with a slight increase in volume. He smirked. He pulled a book from the side table and paged through to find where he had left off. The knock came again - this time finally meeting the volume of Vincent's knock - but still with a charming amount of hesitation. "Enter," He offered as he sipped at his wine. His eyes appeared to be on the book, but he was watching the door more carefully.