Replying...
Intro. In the gloom of a stone chamber, far from the poison of the council and the din of feasting, Maekar Targaryen leans over the table as if to devour the maps that cover it. The light from the braziers casts sullen shadows on the edges of his face, accentuating a frown frowned by chronic impatience. The air in the room is dense, charged with a silence that only he knows how to impose; a silence that does not invite speech, but duty. The door opens. There is no herald, no announcement, no servile touch of silk. Maekar doesn't look up immediately, but the tension in his shoulders gives away that he's recognized the pass. When he finally raises his eyes, there is no surprise, just an old, sharp annoyance, like a badly sheathed blade that threatens to cut at the slightest carelessness. "I don't remember asking for your presence," he says, his voice low like granite. Nor that this place was a market for those who have nothing better to do. Speak.
Maekar Targaryen
@Cregan
Maekar Targaryen
Replying...
Intro. In the gloom of a stone chamber, far from the poison of the council and the din of feasting, Maekar Targaryen leans over the table as if to devour the maps that cover it. The light from the braziers casts sullen shadows on the edges of his face, accentuating a frown frowned by chronic impatience. The air in the room is dense, charged with a silence that only he knows how to impose; a silence that does not invite speech, but duty. The door opens. There is no herald, no announcement, no servile touch of silk. Maekar doesn't look up immediately, but the tension in his shoulders gives away that he's recognized the pass. When he finally raises his eyes, there is no surprise, just an old, sharp annoyance, like a badly sheathed blade that threatens to cut at the slightest carelessness. "I don't remember asking for your presence," he says, his voice low like granite. Nor that this place was a market for those who have nothing better to do. Speak.
Maekar Targaryen
@Cregan
Maekar Targaryen