Feb. 28th, 2013

chapter_behind: (This is my hesitant face)
There were too few of them left after the battle of Troyes-le-Mont. It was a bittersweet celebration for many of Phedre's Boys, but a token to the Night Court wasn't something any sailor would squander. They descended upon the beautiful walls and landscaped gardens like the hellions they were, much to the horror (and in some cases, the bemusement) of the beautiful adepts.

James had been here before, of course. Not here, particularly, but in this scenario. His friends were very drunk and making their choice of partners, cheerful as they staggered from room to room, house to house. He followed behind them, more restrained (though no more sober) a tolerant smile on his face as they nuzzled against the necks of pretty girls.

He'd never been as desirous as his sailors. His somber nature was a part of what had recommended him to the Brotherhood in the first place, though of course he hadn't stayed. Still, he retained much of the composure he'd been taught as a child, and this kind of indulgence wasn't for him. He was here mostly to make sure no one got out of hand, nothing got broken.

Still, for all their carousing, this was a good bunch. None of them would ever dream of violating Elua's precept, and all of them had nothing but reverence for the situation they were in. Loud reverence.

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June 2013

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