Aulus gaped as the handmaid scurried by him with a snicker. Preciariously, he lifted the tray so she wouldn't jostle it, causing the laden saucers, bowls, and pastry to jiggle and clink. Many a time before he'd chase down these women who seemed to savor the story they built up in their minds, so that he would not have to be alone with Octavia, but with a grim bleak glance as the gray skirts rounded the corner, he admitted to himself it was better to attempt this conversation while there were no witnesses. He paused again, trying to find the strength, his grip white on the silver, and then, he stepped inside.
He glanced about the room, and then at her, before humbly switching to the ground as he was supposed to. She was strewn on a fancy couch, her room dismantled and trinkets tossed about. The scent of it all hit him first, a melange of soap, perfume, and other mysterious components that always left him feeling uneasy. Dark thoughts skittled anxiously across his mind as he stepped haphhazardly around the mess with the calculated grace of cat. She doesn't deserve any of this. Spoiled, lazy woman. Egotistical and selfish brat. He looked stiff, brittle, in his black pressed uniform, the complete opposite of her.
Fear tickled him as he set the tray down unceremoniously and without delicacy. He growled in reply to the clink of porcelain and metal, as if it were the final straw to the frustration of this unfamiliar chore. He touched the sword at his waist as if it might offer reassurence, and then, Aulus rose, hastily bowed, and turned towards his spot.
His spot was beside the doorway, where he stood for countless hours a fixture of protection and a flesh suit of armor. He stood to return to his vacant, expressionless, invisible duty. He had proven himself most excellent at it, never looking directly at her, never responding to her in any manner that wasn't pure professionalism, no matter how her presence left him feeling hollow, broken, and lost.
He stood to return, but suddenly, hesitated, then double backed and dropped to one knee before her. "Take me," he said, his voice rumbling and shaky with lack of use. He tried to meet her eyes and his fist clenched and unclenched on his knee.
"On this trip, take me instead of Gaus as your guard." He looked at her with that serious, desperate expression so misunderstood by the houseservants, that he was normally so careful with. As he looked at her beautiful, sinister form a cold paleness spread across his face, and some deep muscle in his chest tightened and twisted painfully in a sensation he had long come to interpret as his own miserable, pathetic hatred. Let me end this, he thought, mad with his growing weakness. When the deep muscle twitched, a sensation he had never felt before, never testing this level of confrontation with her before, he looked down again and swallowed against the clenching of his jaw.
"Please," he added hastily, remembering a tongue-lashing Agatha had last given him about his demanding tone.
He glanced about the room, and then at her, before humbly switching to the ground as he was supposed to. She was strewn on a fancy couch, her room dismantled and trinkets tossed about. The scent of it all hit him first, a melange of soap, perfume, and other mysterious components that always left him feeling uneasy. Dark thoughts skittled anxiously across his mind as he stepped haphhazardly around the mess with the calculated grace of cat. She doesn't deserve any of this. Spoiled, lazy woman. Egotistical and selfish brat. He looked stiff, brittle, in his black pressed uniform, the complete opposite of her.
Fear tickled him as he set the tray down unceremoniously and without delicacy. He growled in reply to the clink of porcelain and metal, as if it were the final straw to the frustration of this unfamiliar chore. He touched the sword at his waist as if it might offer reassurence, and then, Aulus rose, hastily bowed, and turned towards his spot.
His spot was beside the doorway, where he stood for countless hours a fixture of protection and a flesh suit of armor. He stood to return to his vacant, expressionless, invisible duty. He had proven himself most excellent at it, never looking directly at her, never responding to her in any manner that wasn't pure professionalism, no matter how her presence left him feeling hollow, broken, and lost.
He stood to return, but suddenly, hesitated, then double backed and dropped to one knee before her. "Take me," he said, his voice rumbling and shaky with lack of use. He tried to meet her eyes and his fist clenched and unclenched on his knee.
"On this trip, take me instead of Gaus as your guard." He looked at her with that serious, desperate expression so misunderstood by the houseservants, that he was normally so careful with. As he looked at her beautiful, sinister form a cold paleness spread across his face, and some deep muscle in his chest tightened and twisted painfully in a sensation he had long come to interpret as his own miserable, pathetic hatred. Let me end this, he thought, mad with his growing weakness. When the deep muscle twitched, a sensation he had never felt before, never testing this level of confrontation with her before, he looked down again and swallowed against the clenching of his jaw.
"Please," he added hastily, remembering a tongue-lashing Agatha had last given him about his demanding tone.
10-17-2023, 07:58 PM
