TheWendil
Damycles
BrokenPromise
Dreaming One
Alby47Guards eye the approaching waiter with stern scowls. Half of their job is in their appearance, taking on the aspect of a grizzled and dangerous man that would deliver punishment if tested. Bags of meat to intimidate guests.
The guard Montag approached is a tall man, over six feet with broad shoulders and a shaved head. He waited after the waiter’s request, glancing at his fellow guard beside him. The opposite man looked Montag over, and then gave a quick nod. The third one is motionless like a statue.
“Make it quick and don’t linger.”
He reached over with an arm to yank the door open, the detective gaining entry. He’d be under close watch, and there would no doubt be further guards inside, but this is a start.
As the detective began to enter, someone appeared from within the villa to rush out past him. It is a tall male in a dirty trench coat. Obscured by the brown and baggy fedora on his face, a large face tattoo is etched onto his right cheek. It is that of a large snake swallowing what appeared to be a sun, though the sun in this case is the man’s right eye. He glanced a quick side eye at Montag, a deathly look that felt he was gazing right through Montag’s very being. Before anything can be discovered, the stranger is quickly off and on his way through the party. The guards paid him no mind as if he had not even been there.
All of the detective’s instincts demanded he tail and investigate that strange man, but the opportunity is lost for now. Instead he is now inside the villa kitchen, packed full of panicked kitchen staff struggling to deal with the unprecedented amount of guests the mayor’s party received. Waitresses brush past the dark haired boy shouting out orders at the pressured chefs in the back. Hot steam wafted throughout the kitchen, spreading out to other rooms. Animated and eye catching movement distracted any thought to the environment Montag had just stepped into.
This whole place felt like a pressure cooker with the lid barely latched on.
---
Silence fell over the standoff as the police processed Abigail’s words. Some muttering from the brass in charge as they huddled together and whispered plans. Tension remained steady, and time crawled like a snail. One of Abigail’s more impoverished protestors is fidgeting. He wanted his opium fix.
The priestess cannot understand much of what is happening on the other end. It is quiet as hard decisions are thought through. Abigail's brain screams at her, warning her. They will draw their guns and batons and that will be the last noise you ever hear! You will get them all killed!
Instead of the crack of a gunshot, there is instead a new voice on the loudspeaker. Much more friendly and warm than the harsh baritone of the police chief.
“Hey, hello? Test test! Ah, yes! Okay! Hello! This is your mayor speaking! You requested an audience with me? I’d be happy to have you! I care about the people of New Haven and being a religious man myself, I can never turn down a chat with a priest!” The politician broadcasted in the recently taken megaphone.
The police give away for the mayor to come to the forefront of their line. Thomas wore a navy blue three piece suit with dark slacks that were getting dirtied by the rough grass he was currently standing in. He had a loud voice like a showman but a fine pronunciation like a school teacher. He always seemed to smile, showing two big sets of white teeth that are radiantly bright.
“Now I really don’t like how this has been handled, fellas. In fact, to make amends. I’ll have the serving boys give ya all some meals, and a few drinks. All on me. How does that sound?”
His offer immediately got some of the more desperate among Abigail’s crew to come around to his side. Thomas knew the crowd he was appealing to.
The mayor confidently struts forward, a complete contrast to the exhausted and anguished before him. He’d extend a hand to Abigail, ignoring some of the dark stares he got from more riled up members. With no megaphone now, he used his raw voice.
“This is one helluva way to get a meeting, my dear. Care to introduce yourself? We can talk more in depth about your grievances in my office, once your people are taken care of.”
He had a youthful charasmia about him, regardless of his age and it is easy to get swept up in his energy. He already had Abigail pulled aside as the police line is broken up by his words alone.
The tensions vanish up into the wind, Thomas Arnault spoke and mountains moved.
The guard Montag approached is a tall man, over six feet with broad shoulders and a shaved head. He waited after the waiter’s request, glancing at his fellow guard beside him. The opposite man looked Montag over, and then gave a quick nod. The third one is motionless like a statue.
“Make it quick and don’t linger.”
He reached over with an arm to yank the door open, the detective gaining entry. He’d be under close watch, and there would no doubt be further guards inside, but this is a start.
As the detective began to enter, someone appeared from within the villa to rush out past him. It is a tall male in a dirty trench coat. Obscured by the brown and baggy fedora on his face, a large face tattoo is etched onto his right cheek. It is that of a large snake swallowing what appeared to be a sun, though the sun in this case is the man’s right eye. He glanced a quick side eye at Montag, a deathly look that felt he was gazing right through Montag’s very being. Before anything can be discovered, the stranger is quickly off and on his way through the party. The guards paid him no mind as if he had not even been there.
All of the detective’s instincts demanded he tail and investigate that strange man, but the opportunity is lost for now. Instead he is now inside the villa kitchen, packed full of panicked kitchen staff struggling to deal with the unprecedented amount of guests the mayor’s party received. Waitresses brush past the dark haired boy shouting out orders at the pressured chefs in the back. Hot steam wafted throughout the kitchen, spreading out to other rooms. Animated and eye catching movement distracted any thought to the environment Montag had just stepped into.
This whole place felt like a pressure cooker with the lid barely latched on.
---
Silence fell over the standoff as the police processed Abigail’s words. Some muttering from the brass in charge as they huddled together and whispered plans. Tension remained steady, and time crawled like a snail. One of Abigail’s more impoverished protestors is fidgeting. He wanted his opium fix.
The priestess cannot understand much of what is happening on the other end. It is quiet as hard decisions are thought through. Abigail's brain screams at her, warning her. They will draw their guns and batons and that will be the last noise you ever hear! You will get them all killed!
Instead of the crack of a gunshot, there is instead a new voice on the loudspeaker. Much more friendly and warm than the harsh baritone of the police chief.
“Hey, hello? Test test! Ah, yes! Okay! Hello! This is your mayor speaking! You requested an audience with me? I’d be happy to have you! I care about the people of New Haven and being a religious man myself, I can never turn down a chat with a priest!” The politician broadcasted in the recently taken megaphone.
The police give away for the mayor to come to the forefront of their line. Thomas wore a navy blue three piece suit with dark slacks that were getting dirtied by the rough grass he was currently standing in. He had a loud voice like a showman but a fine pronunciation like a school teacher. He always seemed to smile, showing two big sets of white teeth that are radiantly bright.
“Now I really don’t like how this has been handled, fellas. In fact, to make amends. I’ll have the serving boys give ya all some meals, and a few drinks. All on me. How does that sound?”
His offer immediately got some of the more desperate among Abigail’s crew to come around to his side. Thomas knew the crowd he was appealing to.
The mayor confidently struts forward, a complete contrast to the exhausted and anguished before him. He’d extend a hand to Abigail, ignoring some of the dark stares he got from more riled up members. With no megaphone now, he used his raw voice.
“This is one helluva way to get a meeting, my dear. Care to introduce yourself? We can talk more in depth about your grievances in my office, once your people are taken care of.”
He had a youthful charasmia about him, regardless of his age and it is easy to get swept up in his energy. He already had Abigail pulled aside as the police line is broken up by his words alone.
The tensions vanish up into the wind, Thomas Arnault spoke and mountains moved.
