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Lotherio
Planetoid
- Joined
- Sep 12, 2011
Much like the cacophony of noise from their reception was dying down, so too was the harbor storm blowing away outside the thick walls of Valuri Manse, the familial home of the Lovitura family. Caldeul sat brooding in the high seat of his home, overlooking the great hall as his guests were filtering out. Thinned in numbers as the evening had worn on, the final smaller groups were retiring for the evening finall. Those invited to stay were retired to their rooms save those few that could not be stirred from the slumber they had found at the tables of the great hall.
Better for Caldeul than this reception was that the throne also gave easy vantage to the harbor below. One side of the hall opened to a large semi-circular terrace thick with planters nearest its railings over the Cliffs of Cerul. The wall was prefaced by thick columns separated by large panes of glass between which lay the occasional direct opening to the outside below some wrought iron arch covered at most by thick tapestries and, under the festivities of the evening, some archways left open to let the storm breeze into to cool the guests.
His interest wasn’t in architecture or the cliffs, nor the harbor for which his family had been entitled political demesne for generations, but it lay more in watching the traces of lightning far out over the ocean waters as the storm retreated into the sea from which it had come. This interest in the sea and her storms this evening seemingly drew his attention away from his new wife. She was quite the talk of the town, being as she was perhaps half his age at best. Many other rumors abound, it would seem they were not his concern.
Instead, a rough hand tugged at his chin and neck as if to ward off the weariness of the festivities of their wedding day. His rough fingers scratching as they moved along the stubbles of whiskers that had filled in just lightly since his earlier toiletries for the day. They hinted just enough to be felt by touch but not enough to cast stubble shadow on his aged but otherwise handsome face. The same said gesture brought Caldeul out from his silent deliberation and to the hall once more. This time he was seeking his wife, he’d not paid her much mind and either she’d remained at his side or move to meander amongst the guests. Whatever her pleasures for the evening were, he would find her now, his deep, hazel eyes first finding the fire of the great mantle before looking to her seat and, if needed, through the tables of the more rank nobility to find her.
Better for Caldeul than this reception was that the throne also gave easy vantage to the harbor below. One side of the hall opened to a large semi-circular terrace thick with planters nearest its railings over the Cliffs of Cerul. The wall was prefaced by thick columns separated by large panes of glass between which lay the occasional direct opening to the outside below some wrought iron arch covered at most by thick tapestries and, under the festivities of the evening, some archways left open to let the storm breeze into to cool the guests.
His interest wasn’t in architecture or the cliffs, nor the harbor for which his family had been entitled political demesne for generations, but it lay more in watching the traces of lightning far out over the ocean waters as the storm retreated into the sea from which it had come. This interest in the sea and her storms this evening seemingly drew his attention away from his new wife. She was quite the talk of the town, being as she was perhaps half his age at best. Many other rumors abound, it would seem they were not his concern.
Instead, a rough hand tugged at his chin and neck as if to ward off the weariness of the festivities of their wedding day. His rough fingers scratching as they moved along the stubbles of whiskers that had filled in just lightly since his earlier toiletries for the day. They hinted just enough to be felt by touch but not enough to cast stubble shadow on his aged but otherwise handsome face. The same said gesture brought Caldeul out from his silent deliberation and to the hall once more. This time he was seeking his wife, he’d not paid her much mind and either she’d remained at his side or move to meander amongst the guests. Whatever her pleasures for the evening were, he would find her now, his deep, hazel eyes first finding the fire of the great mantle before looking to her seat and, if needed, through the tables of the more rank nobility to find her.