A warm fire burns in the hearth, it’s glow casting long shadows. The fragrance of lilic and gooseberries drifts through room, saturating the opulent wood and leather.
Movement. A ripple in the heavy air as the child, lain fully across a chaise long, awakens
“Mamon” he murmurs, “Mamon, where is my man? Where is Stilburn?”
“Here sir.” comes the voice of another, rich and dark as treacle.
“Stilburn, why must there be poor people in the world?”
“I know not sir”
“I saw a boy yesterday, at the markets. He barely had any adornments at all. And that creature he was carrying…that flat nosed monstrosity.”
“A pug sir. A particularly…chavvy breed of dog”
“Why did he carry it so? Surely he did not think it a companion?”
“I believe the boy was the son of one Jeremiah Corbyn, a local troublemaker of sorts. That family’s lot is low, and their tastes peculiar.”
“Surely a beast such as that cannot be of the same ilk as Cameron?”
The dog snaps to attention at his master’s voice, his muzzle shaped from generations of pure breed conditioning, his senses perfect, his intelligent supreme.
“The world is a strange place sir, full of communists and sodomites. You are fortunate indeed. Thanks to your father’s holdings you need never trouble yourself with such woes.”
“Quite so. Now Stilburn,” the child says as he reclines once more. “You may massage my feet.”
“Yes, young master Eight.”
Last edited by Tafdolphin
on Thu Oct 27, 2016 10:59 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Goat wrote:Guy probably decided not to show up because he heard Taffy was a Cow-exploding fantasist mentalist.