Oh chickens you done thought I’d forgotten you and whaddya know
I done did. I got three jobs and a toddler besides the bold and beautiful biznit so boy oh boy oh boy I am weary, but here a little post for my babies to remind you daddy still got some sugar. Here it be:
Decor
“Now, how hardy are these to heat?”
Mortaris gestured to the everbleed roses arrayed in front of him. His coal-black, gauntlets scratching the bestial helm fused to his decayed spirit. The Chamberlain looked up from his scroll, seemingly distracted. “I… I’m not sure my lord. I’m sure they’ll be fine. Very ominous. Now could we…”
“Because I want to surround them by fire you see? To keep with the blood and fire motif. I’ve explained that haven’t I? Because that witch turned my blood to fire and destroyed my body, leaving me a vengeful wraith.”
“Yes lord, you have made the motif clear. It’s a lovely idea for the throne room, but if I can just catch you up on the movements of the army of Gilead. You see they’re getting…”
“I don’t think roses are good with heat. Which would be a shame, as I quite like the symbolism. Maybe some kind of succulent? That still fits with the metaphor.”
“Lord their army has teamed up with the hero Renfar, he’s said to be the second coming of…”
“Or eucalypts, they thrive in fire. Hmm… I like that a lot.”
“Lord if I must, time is short…”
“Yes you are completely right. A snap decision is the right path, oft that leads to an unexpected and greater result. Yes, we will go with the roses I think. If they die, it will increase the sense of melancholy.”
The Chamberlain sighed, glancing out the ornate arched windows at the gathering horde. “Well if that’s sorted my Lord, I have some urgent business to attend to in… the stables. Yes. I’ll just nip off and grab my riding boots.”
“Of course Chamberlain, go see to the details, as you always do. I’ll get to work here.”
The Chamberlain was already several steps to the massive demonic maw that engulfed the doorway to the throne room, his scroll discarded on the floor.
“And Chamberlain?” The Chamberlain jerked to a stop mid-stride, the sound of trebuchets being constructed audible after the squeal of his boots on ruby flagstone.
“Yes lord?”
“Fetch my gardening gloves while you’re there will you?”
Skydekkerix 