Dance with the Devil

[Naelona Ezel]

Ah, so he wanted to take care of it all himself. How strange, for him.. but Naelona wouldn't protest it. If he wanted to do things himself, so be it. Though even Naelona couldn't argue that it was a bad venture, it really was quite the opposite. She knew.

Naelona crossed the room and paused only when she heard Kazn's voice once more in response to her own parting remarks. "Have a good evening, Naelona," is what he had said. The boogie paused, looking to her father as he cleaned up the spilled wine. He just wished her.. a good evening? She'd only said for him to enjoy his out of politeness if not social protocol. Not for a well-wish in return. She watched only long enough for him to set the music playing once more, and quietly slipped out of the room.

With the door to the Ballroom shut, Nae sighed and wearily rubbed her forehead. She hadn't even been in the room very long, but between her nerves and mind.. the floor had never looked so welcoming. Casting a sidelong glance to her slave, the boogie tiredly pushed off from the door. Kristopher was near, and looking more bloodied than she recalled. She frowned.

"Come." She said, beckoning him to her. "Let's get you clean." Whether it was back to her own Quarters to clean up the boy, or to the baths she hadn't decided, let alone considered. Her feet could decide that on their own.

[Kazn Ezel]

There were those moments when the body seemed to move independent of thought or command. The part of the casual observer was one that had been practiced over many centuries, but it was often the role of the participant that was celebrated and rewarded. For one who watched his own body move without him it would feel very much like being dead. There was a break between body and soul, though the two never were much connected except by the activity of the mind.

A ghostly apparition watched over his shoulder as he swept away glass, memory and pain. There was not a word as the stains of blood were wiped clean from the floor. A table and its chair counterpart were set right, and no one spoke a word. Time marched onward, regardless of whether you chose to march with it.

Every once in a while he noticed that his head turned to look at the apparition. In that moment he felt as though his soul was pulled back to his own body and that he was in control of his own faculties once more. He must have been crying before, as his eyes felt wet and he had to wipe them on his sleeve.

"I am so sorry for the interruption, my dear." He offered an apology to the departed. Some words were simply not meant for the living.