For Gabranth, the fete can only be described as a miserable affair filled with music and the sound of laughter— and the overpowering scent of wine lingering on the wind. Jone may have been insistent on the benefit of granting Benedict free rein in regards to matters of diplomacy, but the hour draws late, and soon enough they’ve an obligation to meet, or all of this will have been for nothing.
And Benedict will not drink himself into a stupor beforehand, nor rest through the deed itself.
“Lord Artemaeus,” His advance is audible amongst silks and soft lace: the heavy clatter of armored footfalls meant for giving chase, rather than delicate exchanges. His visage does not fit, his presence an intrusion. A hound amongst nightingales.
III- go to bed cinderella
For Gabranth, the fete can only be described as a miserable affair filled with music and the sound of laughter— and the overpowering scent of wine lingering on the wind. Jone may have been insistent on the benefit of granting Benedict free rein in regards to matters of diplomacy, but the hour draws late, and soon enough they’ve an obligation to meet, or all of this will have been for nothing.
And Benedict will not drink himself into a stupor beforehand, nor rest through the deed itself.
“Lord Artemaeus,” His advance is audible amongst silks and soft lace: the heavy clatter of armored footfalls meant for giving chase, rather than delicate exchanges. His visage does not fit, his presence an intrusion. A hound amongst nightingales.
“It is time to depart.”