Rumors. Curious rumors. Amusing at the very least.
The Champion of Kirkwall was ironed and freed in the very same night. Made satin slippered courtier overnight. Almost too opportunistic to be authentic. It certainly wouldn't be the first time hysteric stunts were pulled in the name of stirring the pot. As if gossip was the currency of their kingdom and not coin. He knew a fair few who might find themselves exorbitantly wealthy were that the case. Knew this because, once upon a time, that used to be his trade. Salacious secrets obtained by any depraved way possible. A habit that had somewhat morphed over the years but that was never truly lost.
The best example of his masochistic motivations, was his official employment by the Crown. A post he wore with little pride, though he quite delighted in some of his duties when they suited his hedonistic moods. Yes it was certainly curious on his part, especially considering the transient nature of his true identity. Within the city walls he was Sterling and would remain so discounting insistence other wise. Quite outside his better judgement he'd acquired four incredibly important people all dependent on his being Ronan Sterling, executioner of Starkhaven.
All of this to say that he could be made to understand someone like The Champion, satin slippered or otherwise.
He was polishing off a tough heel of bread when he spotted a marbari lead figure looking all too out of place. The Maker had a sense of humor it would seem. Because there was no doubt to him. That was her, noticeably without satin slippers, though no less fine in her dress. A wry smirk found his lips as he pushed quickly from the wall he'd leaned against and quickly fell into step beside her.
The Champion of Kirkwall was ironed and freed in the very same night. Made satin slippered courtier overnight. Almost too opportunistic to be authentic. It certainly wouldn't be the first time hysteric stunts were pulled in the name of stirring the pot. As if gossip was the currency of their kingdom and not coin. He knew a fair few who might find themselves exorbitantly wealthy were that the case. Knew this because, once upon a time, that used to be his trade. Salacious secrets obtained by any depraved way possible. A habit that had somewhat morphed over the years but that was never truly lost.
The best example of his masochistic motivations, was his official employment by the Crown. A post he wore with little pride, though he quite delighted in some of his duties when they suited his hedonistic moods. Yes it was certainly curious on his part, especially considering the transient nature of his true identity. Within the city walls he was Sterling and would remain so discounting insistence other wise. Quite outside his better judgement he'd acquired four incredibly important people all dependent on his being Ronan Sterling, executioner of Starkhaven.
All of this to say that he could be made to understand someone like The Champion, satin slippered or otherwise.
He was polishing off a tough heel of bread when he spotted a marbari lead figure looking all too out of place. The Maker had a sense of humor it would seem. Because there was no doubt to him. That was her, noticeably without satin slippers, though no less fine in her dress. A wry smirk found his lips as he pushed quickly from the wall he'd leaned against and quickly fell into step beside her.
And how did you find your accommodations? Not too dank and lonely I hope?Though the wary expression she wore suggested other. Maybe she had spent the night in the cells and he'd simply been mistaken as to the timeline.
04-15-2023, 09:33 PM
