Presence
Edward raises an eyebrow back, "something like that." It was so much a part of his life and identity for so long. His entire twenties had been eighty-hour weeks without family, hobbies, or friends outside of work. How could person and profession not become one and the same? And even though it had been so long it was hard to shake that way of seeing himself.
"It is a beautiful sport." Edward agreed, "although the style I practice bears stark difference from both Theatric and Olympic. It is a traditional french system." Edward speaks with quiet pride. It had been passed down from Sire to Childe generations back.
"Nothing to extend yet, I am merely counting my chickens before they hatch. My comment was only to say that I plan to be here for some time; and that, one night, when I have belief in the worthiness of my own service to the Domain, I will request it formally."
Her explanation of motives was taken without question. Boxing struck a chord of interest within him, but he wouldn't discuss it tonight.
"I understand. The presence of Kine keeps the Man rooted, and to be uprooted is a dangerous thing indeed."
"Plus," Edward let the tone go light, "what's eternity without a little fun?"
Edward's ears picked up a few phrases that rose eyebrows, and he turned to where the newest Shadows lounged in the corner. Do they understand the meaning of 'formal?' Then again, they looked the type to cry 'Invictus Domain' when basic courtesy was asked of them.
The narcissism of the Mekhets' was something to behold. The idea, manifested in behaviour, that they could stroll into somehow else's Domain and be treated as an equal without a shred of achievement to their name. Horatio and now these two, what a joke that clan was.
And then Quinn stalked over. Enter stage right: the exception. Edward wondered if they knew how lucky they were.
"Naturally," Edward drawled, in theory to Mable although his gaze was on the Mekhets, "time and place is key."
And then two more: JC and the Prince. The latter's words showing the mercy Edward had come to expect from Alessandra. But this was more than mercy. Maeve insulted the Prince. His eyes shifted to Quinn.
This was far past a banishment to the barrens, far past some showy punishment of standing in a shadow. Maeve had insulted the Prince. Not by accident like Mable, no, this was no accident. If it were up to Edward, the male would be banished to the barrens for conducting himself like a fool, and Maeve would be given a choice between the flaying knife and permanent leave.
But it wasn't up to Edward, and so he let his eyes returned to Mable's with a smile, "tell me, do you have a favourite trail?"
But his ears were open, it was wise to attend to the flow of court.
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