Cat's Cradle

Demetrius sat behind an imposing mahogany desk, the morning light streaming through the tall windows of his office, casting intricate shadows on the marble floor. His presence was as commanding as the architecture that surrounded him, a stark contrast to the various cats around the office and estate. Currently, Little Mal was sitting on the windowsill, watching the proceedings with a keen interest. Little Mal was usually around when Demetrius was holding meetings, a silent observer that seemed to add an extra layer of scrutiny to any conversation.

The Archon was a man of contradictions: his austere demeanor masked a complexity that few understood. His office reflected this duality, with its grandiose design juxtaposed against the soft, often whimsical presence of the cats. The felines roamed freely, their quiet movements a testament to the Archon's fondness for them. It was said that each cat held a special place in his heart, much like his former mentor, Radonis. Little Mal, with his sleek black, orange and white fur and piercing green eyes, was a favorite, often seen perched in places of observation.

As Tiberius entered, Demetrius's sharp eyes, the color of molten gold, assessed him with a mixture of curiosity and something that resembled amusement. The Archon's gaze was intense, capable of making even the most confident individuals feel as though they were under a microscope.

Magister Umbra, thank you for coming, Demetrius began, his voice smooth and measured. He gestured to a chair opposite his desk. Please, have a seat. I hope everything is well. There was an opened packing crate off to the side of the desk, filled with a few bottles of wine, one was sitting on the desk breathing. It was from one of the first shipments of Antivan wine that had come through since the barrier went down.

@Tiberius Umbra