[center][h1][color=940310]Louis Demaar Evermoore[/color][/h1][/center]

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[color=silver]Something about this felt off to Louis, though he didn’t know what. Instead, the man simply watched as her majesty took to the stage, careful and regal as ever. And yet, he couldn’t avoid the pit in his stomach. He did his best to ignore it, but couldn’t help scanning the audience, just one last time. He briefly thought he caught someone staring at him, but when he’d turned back to look, the person was gone. Or perhaps it was just his imagination getting the better of him.

Still, all Louis could do for now was watch. Watch the dissatisfied crowd, as they murmured about that damned curse. Could the threat be in his midst now? Was there even a threat? Was he just losing his mind? Louis couldn’t be certain. Maybe the Lammergier? But that didn’t make sense, unless the Venators had some agenda he was unaware of. The Death Guard? Again, it didn’t make sense, as they were sworn to defend the crown.

Unable to quiet the desperate part of his mind that screamed something was wrong, though what exactly he didn’t know, he idly placed his hand on the pommel of his sword, letting it rest there. It was relaxed enough that it shouldn’t have come across as a threat, but still, perhaps a show of force wasn’t the worst thing, given how the crowd seemed to turn against her highness.

One of the Eagles by his side placed a hand over the one Louis rested on his sword. The armored man didn’t notice the gentle motion at first, only noticing once the venator pressed down on his gauntlet slightly to get his attention. He glanced over at the masked figure, and while the mask was always unreadable, there was something reassuring about the venator’s ever-silent gesture. He allowed himself to relax, as best he could, at least. He removed his hand from the pommel of his blade.

But he still kept it close to the grip of his broadsword. Gut instinct hadn’t steered him wrong in the past.[/color]