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Dominic's Rooms; 3rd Floor
Topic Started: Jun 24 2012, 04:13 PM (36 Views)
Dominic

Cont from the Great Room

Quite aware of her eyes following him, Dominic kept his steps even and steady as he moved up the stairs to the landing of the second floor. By the time he began the ascent to the third floor, where his rooms were tucked away in a far corner, the sensation faded and he felt himself relax. He glanced around as he moved along the balcony, taking note that all the rooms appeared empty. The entire castle seemed to be empty, only the slight signs of the staff's work giving evidence that others went about their business. He knew that could change in an instant, others might arrive. One in particular he dreaded seeing again, but for now he was simply happy that encounter had been delayed. It was eerie, though, the quiet around him unsettling, the sense of waiting that seemed to grip the very air he breathed.

He paused briefly and glanced into the rear aerie. He had spent much time in that room, found comfort in it's open views and general privacy. Crossing the gallery he found himself slowing, taking the time to let his eyes wander over each of the paintings hung on the walls. A sudden shock brought him to a quick stop, and he stepped closer to a particular painting. Had it been there before, and he just not noticed, or had it been placed there upon his return, perhaps as reminder? Whatever the case, he recognized the scene. A quiet beach, lit with the warm golden glow of the sun, waves crashing onto the land. He had sat on that beach, swam in those waters, and sat staring out over the seemingly endless ocean many days. The cliffs rose sharply on one end of the beach, though they were barely shown in the painting. He had walked that line many nights, first in a drunken stupor as if daring the fates to shift his feet to close to the edge. Finally in deep contemplation, wrestling with things he'd never before looked at about himself.

Drawing a shaky breath, Dominic lifted one hand then let it drop by his side. A look of intense sorrow filled his eyes before he briefly let them close and waited for the feeling to pass. He consciously replaced that sorrow with a hard determination, repeating a vow silently that he had made not only to himself, but to another as well. One gone now from this life, snatched away far too young. When his eyes opened again, hardened emerald jewels surrounded by a dizzying circle of spinning gold, he moved away with quiet steps that spoke of deep resolve.

Stepping into the room was like stepping into the past. He stopped just inside the doorway, letting it settle about him like a comfortable shirt, well worn in all the right places. On the wall to his right a fire burned in the small fireplace, flanked by two lace covered windows that were thrown open to allow the sweetly scented night air to flow into the room. The plush chaise, covered in deep brown fabric, still sat in the same place against the opposite wall. Even the book he had been reading still waited on the small round table. Someone had turned on the table lamp, probably the same person who had stoked up the fire, and straightened the darkly patterned throw rugs that were scattered about the room. It seemed he could have been away just days instead of years.

The memories crashed down on him, and his lips thinned into a tight line as he closed the door quietly behind him.

"I won't stand for it, Dominic. I may have to see to your Sanctuary, but I will not tolerate your attitude another minute."

It seemed her words still rang in the room, cool and calm, though if they were tinted with any emotion it was perhaps pity instead of anger. That thought brought a fresh rush of shame, and for an instant Dominic hung his head, silky black hair falling forward to hide his face. "If they hadn't,..." he began to think, then firmly pushed the thought away. He lifted his head and reminded himself of his vow, and that he had to keep to his goals. With a deep breath, he dropped the blanket onto the floor and moved to the bedroom to shower and dress.

With a pair of tailored black slacks sitting snug on his hips, a soft silk shirt that matched his emerald eyes covering his chest, he stopped to look around again. The same someone whose touch had been evident in the sitting room had also lit a fire in the small fireplace opposite the bed. The thick jade green curtains had been pulled back and the windows opened slightly to let the sweet breeze drift in from the gardens below. He'd lost his favorite boots, of course, but the newer pair he found in the closet would serve for now. His hair was neatly brushed and pulled from his face, every detail tended to with a meticulous care that he refused to admit had only come on after his curse to feline form.

Now he stood, staring out the window at the vista that stretched out over the clouds. The faint colors amazed him, the play of some magical touch that swept around the castle's very solid under-base and kept it somehow afloat. It was cloudy now, the moonlight filtered through a thick layer of mist that whispered comfort in the mind. This was a sight he had greatly missed in what he thought of as his exile from exile. His lips twisted now in a wry grin as he considered that term. How much he'd learned since then.

It could have been far worse, he knew that now. Dominic only vaguely understood what had made the Baroness grant him the reprieve of the Sanctuary Island instead of outright banishment or even death. It hadn't been bad, in all reality. The city was modern, he had all the creature comforts he could ask for. It had taken a hard slap to wake him up, make him realize what he was supposed to do.

With easy grace, he spun around and moved to leave the rooms. The words he had practiced so many times back in his island apartment tumbled through his head, and he prayed to whatever gods there might be that he could get through it. Humble wasn't something he did well, but he was going to try.

Cont in the Great Room

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Dominic
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Cont from Great Room

The shame still burned hot in his cheeks as he stepped into the room and slowed his pace at last. He'd come at a near run, shameful in and of itself but nothing compared to what else he had done.

"Lord, just my damned luck," he whispered, then shook his head with a wry grin when he caught himself doing it again. His bad luck. Well, someone had shown him wrong tonight, hadn't they?

Dominic wanted badly to read the letter again that was tucked into his back pocket. It seemed a dishonor now, to accept such words from the Wolf Prince after his actions. His well polished boots were silent against the shining wood floor and Dominic looked out over the grounds without really seeing as he paced closer to the window." And what am I doing now?" His question was harsh, a rough whisper as he leaned his forehead against the cool pane of glass. "Not my duty, but her orders or is that another excuse?"

Stifling a moan of self-pity for the quandary, Dominic turned and walked to the nearest seat. Plush and low to the ground, he sank down into it and raised his hands to rub his eyes. It was lonelier here now than at any time he remembered, and he prayed that didn't bode ill for whatever Thorison was planning. That thought brought the temptation to brood on his past mistake, but he forced the thoughts away and decided he had to ask the Baroness to show him the folder.

Only not just yet. He'd give the gunslinger time to calm down a bit more first.

Dominic stretched out on one of the two big overstuffed sofas that faced each other in the center of the room. The leather was soft but not worn, and he let his fingers run over the envelope again before slipping the letter out into the open. He lingered over the contents, letting each word sound deep in his head, imagining the Dark Dreamer's voice against the silent backdrop of the room. The words still held their power, but he made an attempt to checker his ambition with reason before he rose.

Sitting up, his arms on his knees and the letter dangling from his hand, he stared out the window. Sobering thoughts of responsibility and duty darkened the shadows in his eyes and set his lips in a thin, grim line. His movements were slow, methodical, when he folded the letter back into the envelope. He rose from the couch, smooth and easy, still unhurried; stood for a moment longer, letting his gaze this time see the vistas beyond the many windows.

When he turned towards the door, Dominic managed a smile, and brushed his hair back from his face. At least, after his most recent major gaffe, the Baroness wasn't likely to be quite so pressing about the how and why of his return. At least not in front of Jimsonweed; so he should be off the hook on that score. For a while, at least, if he was lucky. It was with that thought that he left the open spaciousness of the aerie room and moved down the hall.

Wishing to avoid the Great Room, he made his way quietly to the library tower stairs. It was a quick exit once he made his way to the first floor, and then down the hall towards the ballroom. He could exit the castle there, make his way past the terrace and do a round of the gardens. Perhaps by that time the Great Room would be empty and he could retrieve the report on Thorison with no more embarrassing confrontations.

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