Acherus: The Ebon Hold
May. 15th, 2020 09:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lionofthelightAs the sun sets on Azeroth, the valley town of Lakeshire is touched by the shadows that stretch out of the Redridge mountains. High on the cliffside, Ademar's manor has long since chilled in the absence of the sun.
Zandros and Isidor arrive in the gazebo at the heart of the darkened garden. He steps ahead and calls to the Light, and with its guidance they navigate the winding garden maze. The home ahead of them is dark already, apart from the faintest candle glow from the upstairs windows and a pair of cyan lights at the manor doors. When Zandros notices the dead man's eyes, another set of blue lights flash in a vertical line.
As they approach the entryway Zandros snuffs the Light with a shake of his palm. The gesture calms the blade, which goes dark, but Ademar, standing stiffly at the door with his hands behind his back, remains unmoved -- figuratively and literally. He may as well be a piece of scenery for how little he reacts to the presence of his guests. It isn't until Zandros speaks that he moves at all.
"I hope we didn't keep you waiting long," Zandros says quietly, punctuated by a small, polite laugh.
Ademar remains silent.
Quietly, Zandros presses on. "Only, I didn't see you step out, so I thought you might have been waiting for some time, and--"
"I have," the death knight interrupts.
Zandros pulls a face. Ademar's eyes fall on him, then drift to Isidor.
"Let us enter, so that I might critique your guises before preparing the way. Lord Alter... I should hope you do not intend to arrive as you are."
Zandros feigns some confidence and raises his voice. "Isidor has a plan for me, I'm told."
Sufficiently assuaged, Ademar leads them into the foyer of his home, and with a businesslike quickness that his conversational manners belie he sets about lighting candles on the walls. Just inside the doorway an ornately-framed, full-length mirror has been propped against a wall. Zandros catches a glance of himself in it, but he's swift to look away. Narcissism just doesn't hold the same joy it once did... And besides, he can see Isidor in it.
Zandros and Isidor arrive in the gazebo at the heart of the darkened garden. He steps ahead and calls to the Light, and with its guidance they navigate the winding garden maze. The home ahead of them is dark already, apart from the faintest candle glow from the upstairs windows and a pair of cyan lights at the manor doors. When Zandros notices the dead man's eyes, another set of blue lights flash in a vertical line.
As they approach the entryway Zandros snuffs the Light with a shake of his palm. The gesture calms the blade, which goes dark, but Ademar, standing stiffly at the door with his hands behind his back, remains unmoved -- figuratively and literally. He may as well be a piece of scenery for how little he reacts to the presence of his guests. It isn't until Zandros speaks that he moves at all.
"I hope we didn't keep you waiting long," Zandros says quietly, punctuated by a small, polite laugh.
Ademar remains silent.
Quietly, Zandros presses on. "Only, I didn't see you step out, so I thought you might have been waiting for some time, and--"
"I have," the death knight interrupts.
Zandros pulls a face. Ademar's eyes fall on him, then drift to Isidor.
"Let us enter, so that I might critique your guises before preparing the way. Lord Alter... I should hope you do not intend to arrive as you are."
Zandros feigns some confidence and raises his voice. "Isidor has a plan for me, I'm told."
Sufficiently assuaged, Ademar leads them into the foyer of his home, and with a businesslike quickness that his conversational manners belie he sets about lighting candles on the walls. Just inside the doorway an ornately-framed, full-length mirror has been propped against a wall. Zandros catches a glance of himself in it, but he's swift to look away. Narcissism just doesn't hold the same joy it once did... And besides, he can see Isidor in it.