The Most Precious Of Invitations...

[Wretched 2075]

 

 

Footsteps, echoing softly down the dark hallways, the sharp sound bouncing from wall to wall, growing gradually, yet softly louder as they drew closer and closer. The... almost enchanting music of the footsteps produced a steady rhythm, being released in long, confident strides... And it grew louder still, the pace unfaltering in its approach until finally, it came to a most abrupt stop. A long pause, an exhale of air, the eerie creaking of an old wooden door, and an almost inaudible clinking of glasses.

 

The bearer of the footsteps stepped inwards, gently clicking the door shut behind him with the utmost care as the heads twisted round in the room to face him. After a few long moments of silence, the footsteps returned, the figure carried them with him as he approached the long, dimly-lit table before him. The figure rest their hand atop the back of the chair closest to them, their head twisting from left to right to examine each of the other's faces in turn. And then just like that, the silence was broken.

 

"Just when we thought you weren't coming..."

 

A male voice, a deep male voice spoke in the figure's direction, motioning to the seat before him with a smile spread wide over his lips. Atop the man's larger chair sat a small black crow, its head twisting back and forth to stare menacingly at the figure as he willingly placed himself down, running his palms across his lap to brush away the dust before bringing his hands atop the table to interlock his bony, gloved fingers.

 

"Clearly you underestimate my... Dedication..."

 

The figure replies, in yet another male voice with a slight, sadistic chuckle. He leans back in his chair, eyes snapping up to the crow, meeting its firm glare. The crow takes flight, its fluttering of wings the only sound in the silent, dark room as it lands softly atop the figure's shoulder, now seemingly satisfied. The figure passes a small crumb to the bird, of which it consumes hungrily.

 

"And what of the.... Others? You believe it is time?"

 

A female voice this time. She peers around to the group about her, brows raised in question as her gaze curiously examines each of their faces in turn, failing to read their mysterious expressions. Another member of the group coughs from another end of the table, drawing the attention of the entire table with a swift turn of their heads.

 

"We can't say it won't be risky... You all understand this."

 

Yet another deep, male voice, but his words are said with an unsettling aura of calming satisfaction, as if his mere tounge could tear the flesh from your bones. Heads nod in agreement around him, but the mutterings are cut short by an unexpected response from the voice of a sweet-sounding child, his innocent, silky voice latching to their ears with a strange, unsettling atmosphere. His eyes growing wide as his tounge rolled slowly over his lips, eyes flashing from figure to figure.

 

"Weeeeee know what we want... The threat lies in these halls, not elsewhere..."

 

The childish voice seems to have silenced the room momentarily, before the figure sitting in the largest of chairs speaks once more in the same rough, deep tone as before. His hands stretch across the table as he puts on a serious face, his eyes resting finally on the figure that had most recently entered the gloomy room.

 

"Then it is settled... We start the search...."

 

"Let the party begin..."

[Gemmylou 484]

The female voice lets out a very soft giggle, stirring the tea in her tea cup daintily, her emerald eyes looking at each of them in turn.  She brings it up and offers it to the others. A soft 'clink..' emits. 

 

"Let the tea party begin.."

[Zarsies 6795]

A thin, ebony-skinned arm raises from the table, the limb raising a glass and tapping it gingerly amongst the others'.

 

"Clink~..."

[Geo 1415]

A pale, o' most pale figure allows its miraculously skinny arms to slither out from the dark engulfing sleeves they were hidden in.  The seething of its hatred woven into the very tightness in which its fingers clutched around the small glass.  With nothing to follow but a deathly silence, the creature clinks the glass... and it rings.  It rings.

[Jexdane 213]

A low, soothing male voice echos quietly through the chamber as the bearer of the voice raises his cup to tap it amongst the others.

 

"A pleasure to be invited.."

 

"Clink~"