The 27th of Glade, 4622
It had been relatively quiet around the estate since Arkash's return. There were no ruminations that he knew of from the new selection of staff, with whom Arkash had made the effort to get well acquainted.
Relatively speaking, the latest Valran were quite impressive. The new menu was much broader than the last time around, and with much more depth to strength in its bones, it was almost hard to resist... Almost.
It wasn't like his time in Fort Valrazan though, no. He couldn't simply pluck the staff aside and expect not to be caught; it would only hurt the Veir of the house in the end. No, Arkash was on his best behavior day in and day out. He didn't once assume his True form; he lived as a human of unsuspecting features. Everything he ate came from the streets, and never once did he show any glimmer of purpose or interest outside of his pursuits in Necromancy. He was, after all, playing the role of Veir Socorro's doctor.
That was to say Arkash had been on his best behavior up until the past couple of days. A mule had been wandering about the estate with no good reason, or so he'd found. It was first the smell that drew him in, as the stink of wild animal clung to just about every stretch of fabric it wandered by and buried itself in every minuscule crack and splinter in the woodwork and wallpaper that littered the structure. Then it was the trot of its feet on the tiled and wooden floors, the shift of wooden beams in the ceilings beneath its weight.
The braying and the flies it drew to the estate were obnoxious, but Arkash found the strength to focus on his work regardless. It wasn't there all the time, but when it appeared, Arkash found no shortage of stress. There was something deeply upsetting about seeing an animal wandering the halls, especially when no one else seemed to realize it was there, no one else with a sense of smell as impeccable as his own.
Arkash couldn't simply kill the beast, he imagined. There must have been a reason that the Veir was keeping it around, the Rathor reasoned. But even if he couldn't kill or be rid of the beast, he could make its presence work for him.
Dressed in rather fine, yet casual attire, Arkash made his way through the estate with his sense of smell to guide him. One hand rested its thumb in the rim of his pocket while the other carried the brass handle of a large, black leather bag. Cautious brown eyes trailed the way as Arkash stepped without sound, adjusted his vest as it rested beneath his tailcoat, and looked over his shoulder to ensure he'd not been seen heading in that direction of the estate.
A brief exhale saw him expel some of the cumbersome heat from his lungs as he proceeded into the halls.
The beast's scent was laid like a trail, and he followed where it had been with great accuracy. Occasionally, he'd happen upon the scuff of a hoofmark in the flooring as if to assure him that he was headed in the right direction. Up a flight of stairs and through the proceeding hall, Arkash stopped at the door of one of the rooms. The smell of the mule seemed to have lingered there for some time; it was dense, almost tangible in the air as told by the burn of his eyes.
Arkash looked over his shoulder again as he tested the handle of the door. There was a single beating heart within the room, running at about the pace he'd expect for a creature of that size. Cautiously, he watched the halls as he let himself in, then quietly shut the door with his back to the room. A deep exhale saw him visibly relax as he rolled his shoulders and set the bag down. Casually, he removed the stuffy tailcoat and draped it over his arm before he recollected the bag from the floor.
Fully, he expected to see a mule as he turned to face the source of the beating heart, but instead, he was greeted by the visage of what looked like a human, sitting at a desk with his finger on a piece of paper. Bewilderment claimed his eyes, as though reality itself had lied to him. "...You're not a mule?" Arkash began with a tilt of his head, some semblance of a question in his tone.
No, it was not. It was the boy he'd seen lingering of late, but not quite spoken to outside of passing greetings.
"Er, sorry... I thought this room was empty," the disguised rathor offered with a slight bow. "Well... No, that's a lie. I thought that donkey was in here," he continued with a brief scoff of a laugh. "Have you seen it?" Came the question midstride in his pleasantries. Arkash's brown eyes fixed on the boy's features at the delivery as if to measure him.
It had been relatively quiet around the estate since Arkash's return. There were no ruminations that he knew of from the new selection of staff, with whom Arkash had made the effort to get well acquainted.
Relatively speaking, the latest Valran were quite impressive. The new menu was much broader than the last time around, and with much more depth to strength in its bones, it was almost hard to resist... Almost.
It wasn't like his time in Fort Valrazan though, no. He couldn't simply pluck the staff aside and expect not to be caught; it would only hurt the Veir of the house in the end. No, Arkash was on his best behavior day in and day out. He didn't once assume his True form; he lived as a human of unsuspecting features. Everything he ate came from the streets, and never once did he show any glimmer of purpose or interest outside of his pursuits in Necromancy. He was, after all, playing the role of Veir Socorro's doctor.
That was to say Arkash had been on his best behavior up until the past couple of days. A mule had been wandering about the estate with no good reason, or so he'd found. It was first the smell that drew him in, as the stink of wild animal clung to just about every stretch of fabric it wandered by and buried itself in every minuscule crack and splinter in the woodwork and wallpaper that littered the structure. Then it was the trot of its feet on the tiled and wooden floors, the shift of wooden beams in the ceilings beneath its weight.
The braying and the flies it drew to the estate were obnoxious, but Arkash found the strength to focus on his work regardless. It wasn't there all the time, but when it appeared, Arkash found no shortage of stress. There was something deeply upsetting about seeing an animal wandering the halls, especially when no one else seemed to realize it was there, no one else with a sense of smell as impeccable as his own.
Arkash couldn't simply kill the beast, he imagined. There must have been a reason that the Veir was keeping it around, the Rathor reasoned. But even if he couldn't kill or be rid of the beast, he could make its presence work for him.
Dressed in rather fine, yet casual attire, Arkash made his way through the estate with his sense of smell to guide him. One hand rested its thumb in the rim of his pocket while the other carried the brass handle of a large, black leather bag. Cautious brown eyes trailed the way as Arkash stepped without sound, adjusted his vest as it rested beneath his tailcoat, and looked over his shoulder to ensure he'd not been seen heading in that direction of the estate.
A brief exhale saw him expel some of the cumbersome heat from his lungs as he proceeded into the halls.
The beast's scent was laid like a trail, and he followed where it had been with great accuracy. Occasionally, he'd happen upon the scuff of a hoofmark in the flooring as if to assure him that he was headed in the right direction. Up a flight of stairs and through the proceeding hall, Arkash stopped at the door of one of the rooms. The smell of the mule seemed to have lingered there for some time; it was dense, almost tangible in the air as told by the burn of his eyes.
Arkash looked over his shoulder again as he tested the handle of the door. There was a single beating heart within the room, running at about the pace he'd expect for a creature of that size. Cautiously, he watched the halls as he let himself in, then quietly shut the door with his back to the room. A deep exhale saw him visibly relax as he rolled his shoulders and set the bag down. Casually, he removed the stuffy tailcoat and draped it over his arm before he recollected the bag from the floor.
Fully, he expected to see a mule as he turned to face the source of the beating heart, but instead, he was greeted by the visage of what looked like a human, sitting at a desk with his finger on a piece of paper. Bewilderment claimed his eyes, as though reality itself had lied to him. "...You're not a mule?" Arkash began with a tilt of his head, some semblance of a question in his tone.
No, it was not. It was the boy he'd seen lingering of late, but not quite spoken to outside of passing greetings.
"Er, sorry... I thought this room was empty," the disguised rathor offered with a slight bow. "Well... No, that's a lie. I thought that donkey was in here," he continued with a brief scoff of a laugh. "Have you seen it?" Came the question midstride in his pleasantries. Arkash's brown eyes fixed on the boy's features at the delivery as if to measure him.