Post by Klaus Cither on Nov 9, 2012 21:38:12 GMT -5
| [atrb=style,width: 120px; height: 300px; background-color: #8f8498; border-radius: 60 0 0 0; vertical-align: top; border-right: 10px solid #363636;][STYLE=width: 100px; height: 100px; background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v723/Inra/gig/gig3_zps29171f96.png); margin: 10 5 5 10; border-radius: 50; box-shadow: 2px 2px 0px #363636;][/style][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-size: 22px; text-transform: lowercase; font-style: italic; color: #fff; padding: 10px; vertical-align: bottom; line-height: 18px; letter-spacing: -3px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 0px #363636; text-align: left;]_ a white out of emotion and i only got my brittle bones to break this f a l l. _[/style] | [atrb=cellpadding, 0, true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style,width: 300px; height: 150px; background-color: #eeeeee; border-radius: 0 0 60 0;][classy=scroll][STYLE=height: 200px; width: 270px; margin: 10; padding: 5px; font-family: tahoma; font-size: 10px; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; background-color: #eeeeee; valign: top; color: #292929;] He could leave. It would be very possible. In fact, he could do so right now. . . . yes. You know, he should be getting onto that. And Klaus thought he was losing the battle when he growled, arm still hung over the bridge's stone railing, and asked an otherwise very disinterested god why he seemed to be wandering into trouble the whole of the Night of Masks. The first was his own fault, executed brilliantly, but then again he did not send a crime lord sailing into the street. Noel managed that one entirely on his own, as honored as Klaus might have been to take the credit, and he figured it would be fair play to point it out. 'Still. Infinitely more expected . . .' |
Neither of which, he thought while he hung back on his quiet bridge above a stream that emptied outside the city, sounded like good gambles—but sometimes you play a bad hand, and he watched for the girl dressed in tunics a size too big and tailored for men. Klaus might have shrugged it off as a shame anyone had the same tastes as Noel, but the chest made that a bit more difficult than he would have liked. '. . . the nobles should be attending a much duller party . . . seems quite paranoid . . .'[/b] unfortunately, looking after Caeius gave him every reason to be paranoid, and he couldn't shake a ghostly feeling that something was wrong. It crept down into his bones, slowly at first, and he shook off the nighttime cold when she came back into view; a speck of black behind a mask and a bob of dyed hair.
He would watch, Klaus promised himself. For the moment, and for Noel. 'Fair enough trade.'[/b] The average street-goer is too busy to learn the names of Guardians, not to mention he much preferred to go ignored, and no one would give a second glance to either of them as long as nothing went wrong. 'My hope is no one will have to see to it happening. Best of luck.'[/b] Experience in the lower quarter taught him that it belonged to survivors—the sorts that saw upturned bodies behind their stores, gave them an expectant look like they might hopefully get up drunk, and went back to working for nothing. Food and board, if they were incredibly lucky, because coin disappears quicker than might be expected.
Everyone had their own knife for their own reasons the further you got from the glorious mansions and spreading villas lined before the castle. Klaus had his prejudices, and didn't believe a Princess who grew up with servants at her hand and foot knew the kind of life she thought it might be fun to wander into. (And he may have found her respectable at the end of everything, but the truth stays the truth no matter your personal problems with it.)
Again: best of luck, they might need that—and yes, he enjoyed pretending she made little difference in his world rather than admitting he felt nervous that she might hurt herself (or possibly others, to give her credit) under his nose.
[/style][/classy][STYLE=width: 270px; height: 50px; margin: 5 5 -10 10; padding: 5px; border: 1px dashed #8f8498; border-radius: 0 0 50 0; font-size: 8.5px; font-type: georgia; color: #000;]TAG! badass, undercover!aria.
WORDS! 590.
NOTES! this was tough, too. Stupid dead muse.[/style]
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