ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ ˢʰᵉᵉᵖ, ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ʰᵒᵐᵉ

ᅠ Time ticked on in measured beats, 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 and controlled — folding inward upon the hall’s occupants. A quiet 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, just shy of suffocating which seemed to roll off the overlord with little intent. Whether by 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑-𝑠𝑜𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑑 reputation or simply raw 𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑, an imbalance was evident. However, the stag was not one to flex his claws without purpose, or at least something to gain. Rather now, 𝓐𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 stood simply as a humble hotelier, hostility of his more prominent title set aside … 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒚. Amusement glinted within that ruby gaze, head tilting as a curious cat might study a frantic bit of prey. A common response among sinners within his presence, one which never grew dull. Decades of calculated kills and strategic deals to establish his hold amongst the highest souls in 𝓗𝐞𝐥𝐥 — he had earned this, the manifestation of his efforts across the populace. Each subtle shiver and flickering glance a whetstone upon the razor edge of his 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄. Confidence bled at the seams of a polite exterior, a gentleman’s disposition wielded like a knife, clean and precise. ❝ 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚. This way, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟.ᐟ ❞ Heels clicked a slow, steady rhythm down the winding hall ahead; an easy pace, ensuring his companion was accommodated. 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 simmered low, a tune muted beneath the haze to match the gentle hum behind that ever-present grin. Melody soft and sultry, foxtrot in kind. Tasteful for a quiet evening as the two traversed from the more industrial accommodations to the classier common areas of the hotel. Tension subdued, dulling the more harshly drawn lines of the 𝓡𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝓓𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 in golden lamplight. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 drew long, warped talons and branching antlers along claret-clad walls. Movement independent of its master, the twisted form 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑒𝑑 low about the young ram. Not quite a 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 — not without provocation — but undeniably inquisitive. ﹝𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑓𝑡﹞ ❝ 𝑂ℎ.ᐣ A 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫, are you.ᐣ How 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑓𝑢𝑙, I do appreciate a good sense of 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 in entertainment. ❞ Attention diverted fully once more to the sinner, brow arched with intrigue. 𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓, as if any in 𝓗𝐞𝐥𝐥 had a choice when the 𝓡𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐨 𝓓𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 commandeered the airwaves. No, when 𝓐𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 spoke not a soul had a say in the matter. Whether delicious gossip or gut-wrenching 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒, all of 𝓗𝐞𝐥𝐥 had no choice but to tune in. ❝ But of course.ᐟ Can’t have my broadcasts be any 𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑙. Leave that nonsense to the 𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒓 media, reliant on flashy imagery and mindless indulgence to maintain an audience. ❞ ﹝𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑘﹞ The two traversed past guest quarters, crossing through the entry hall now void of its carefully executed 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬. Embers burned low in the grand fireplaces, their warm glow glinting off the bottles neatly lined behind the vacant bar. Peace only allotted by the unreasonably late hour settled about the plush upholstery and rich mahogany. 𝓐𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 strolled down the central staircase, words spoken casually over shoulder. ❝ One must establish their niche here — 𝒅𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆 it — if they wish to hold a modicum of 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫. No amount of mimicry or 𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 off the strength of others will garner 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 respect. My advice to 𝔂𝐨𝐮, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑟, free for the taking.ᐟ ❞ Rounding the corner, the overlord continued onward to the kitchens situated just off the dining hall. Though guests were not typically allowed beyond, 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 were permitted at the hotelier’s whim. Swinging double doors stood before them, porthole windows displaying merely a peek into the culinary equipment within. At its heart: a long, multileveled island lined with barstools for staff to take five. Crimson claws settled upon the door, a silent swing open to the interior coupled with a gracious bow. ❝ And we have arrived. 𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆, have a seat. 𝑂ℎ, and while I imagine 𝓘 require no introduction, I do believe I’ve yet to make 𝔂𝐨𝐮𝐫 acquaintance prior … .ᐣ ❞ ᅠ