OOM - Russell Edgington's Mansion
Oct. 6th, 2014 01:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
onceavikingBedrooms. Huge, opulent bedrooms filled with tables with lion's paws holding up sickeningly sweet smelling bouquets of roses. With massive four poster beds hung with velvet, heavily laden with duvets and pillows.
So many pillows.
It is like a surprisingly convincing trip back to the days of the Sun King.
Cloying and too much.
He'd been informed on his way to the bedroom he has been invited to spend the day in, that there are countless such rooms on the mansion. Somehow, he does not doubt this.
Far too much.
But he is in, and the King is favorable to dealing with The Magister, so he can stomach roses, velvet, and thick carpeting for a little while.
After showering, he gets dressed. In slacks and the light blue v-neck sweater Pam said brought out his eyes.
And his chest.
He makes his way to the hall, very aware that he is being watched by the seemingly never ending stream of youngish looking male vampires.
And then the King descends.
"Sir," Eric says. Respectfully.
Russell has dressed with care as well. The floral shirt is an especially nice touch. "Sheriff," he says to Eric as he walks down the last few steps of the stairs. "Please accept my apologies. There is a matter to which I must attend."
A certain waitress that needs catching.
"Trouble?" Eric asks, because it is both a reasonable assumption and perhaps a way in which he can elevate the Kings opinion of him further.
He towers next to Russell who seems amused, but pleasantly so, at this.
"Not really," he says, a smile in his voice. "More of an experiment."
"Perhaps I can be of service?" Eric suggests, looking down at Russell. Choosing his words with much deliberation.
Anything that might speed up matters.
"Oh," Russell says, "Indulge my boy, Talbott, will you? Let him give you the full tour." He sounds fond and a little exasperated. And conspiratorial. Surely Eric knows what it is like. Got to keep them happy.
"It makes him positively blithe," he continues, ignoring the look on Eric's face.
This is not what he wanted to hear. This is not what he wants to do.
"Sir," he says, lowering his voice, "I have a child of my own in the Magister's bony hands. If you could help as soon as poss-"
But the King cuts him off with a dismissive, "All in good time, Eric."
And then he leaves.
Eric takes a breath (he can do this, it is just a minor setback, they still have time) and looks up as someone from the stairs say, "You?"
It's Loreena. Bill Compton's insane Maker.
"You?" He replies, lifting an eyebrow.
It's not that great of a surprise really. Seeing as how Compton is here.
So many pillows.
It is like a surprisingly convincing trip back to the days of the Sun King.
Cloying and too much.
He'd been informed on his way to the bedroom he has been invited to spend the day in, that there are countless such rooms on the mansion. Somehow, he does not doubt this.
Far too much.
But he is in, and the King is favorable to dealing with The Magister, so he can stomach roses, velvet, and thick carpeting for a little while.
After showering, he gets dressed. In slacks and the light blue v-neck sweater Pam said brought out his eyes.
And his chest.
He makes his way to the hall, very aware that he is being watched by the seemingly never ending stream of youngish looking male vampires.
And then the King descends.
"Sir," Eric says. Respectfully.
Russell has dressed with care as well. The floral shirt is an especially nice touch. "Sheriff," he says to Eric as he walks down the last few steps of the stairs. "Please accept my apologies. There is a matter to which I must attend."
A certain waitress that needs catching.
"Trouble?" Eric asks, because it is both a reasonable assumption and perhaps a way in which he can elevate the Kings opinion of him further.
He towers next to Russell who seems amused, but pleasantly so, at this.
"Not really," he says, a smile in his voice. "More of an experiment."
"Perhaps I can be of service?" Eric suggests, looking down at Russell. Choosing his words with much deliberation.
Anything that might speed up matters.
"Oh," Russell says, "Indulge my boy, Talbott, will you? Let him give you the full tour." He sounds fond and a little exasperated. And conspiratorial. Surely Eric knows what it is like. Got to keep them happy.
"It makes him positively blithe," he continues, ignoring the look on Eric's face.
This is not what he wanted to hear. This is not what he wants to do.
"Sir," he says, lowering his voice, "I have a child of my own in the Magister's bony hands. If you could help as soon as poss-"
But the King cuts him off with a dismissive, "All in good time, Eric."
And then he leaves.
Eric takes a breath (he can do this, it is just a minor setback, they still have time) and looks up as someone from the stairs say, "You?"
It's Loreena. Bill Compton's insane Maker.
"You?" He replies, lifting an eyebrow.
It's not that great of a surprise really. Seeing as how Compton is here.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-10 04:47 am (UTC)With the taste of blood on his tongue, he's reminded of his younger days when he would bring Russell pretty young things and they would feed off of them together.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-10 05:00 am (UTC)"Of course, the Southern Gothic style does draw in certain segments but still - every once in a while ..."
He smiles slowly and predatorily.
"We have the entrance area here," he says, drawing an outline with his finger on the tablecloth. Barely touching it.
"A bar along here. The dance floor. With cages and podiums here and here. And the dais off course." Looking up from his invisible drawing, catching Talbot's eyes.
Completely focused on him it seems.
Telling him about things that matter to Eric. Sharing.
And caressing him with his gaze.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-10 05:19 am (UTC)It takes a second or two before he realizes that Eric's hand has stopped moving and that he's paused speaking. And he flicks his gaze up to meet his. And he blinks rapidly, smiling.
"Perhaps someday, I can pay you a visit."
Russell never takes him anywhere anymore.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-10 05:41 am (UTC)"Very much."
Where the fuck is Edgington?
He carries Pam within him, her pain, her fear, her anger.
And the weight of his own rage. At The Magister. at Edgington.
And yet he manages to keep the fire from his eyes. Or at least banked to a point where it might be seen as a different sort of fire entirely.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-10 06:30 am (UTC)Talbot won't make any advances tonight. He isn't sure what Russell has in store for Eric, so he wouldn't want to overstep his boundaries by fucking him first. Then again, Russell is well aware how new playthings can capture his attention.
He is the Royal Consort, Progeny of the King of Mississippi. He can do what he wants.
But now, he'll bide his time.