ππ¬ππ―π² πππ€π’π―π¬π²
"You seem reluctant. Do I sense some trepidation in you? You know we both have a means to an end.
We share this curse together, whether we like it or not. At the most, all we can do is-- endure."
Julius did not reply to the man behind him. Nay, he stood to the foot of the curtains; his eyes tracing
the many engravings in the stained glass that feigned beauty that, to his consternation, did not belong
here. Pinned butterflies and stuffed pheasants of various species watched in their still-death. Somehow,
he felt akin to them. Pray tell, how they must have squirmed under a needle before being encased in glass.
He too was in a similar circumstance, he pondered. A butterfly with torn wings...a butterfly pinned against
a wall for this man clad in black to marvel. Despite all these misfortunes, he could not complain-- least, in
sight. He agreed to this, this was his burden to bare. If being complacent and having to be subdued at this
mans desire meant his darling Eleanor's well-being, he would indeed, endure.
And so, there he stood. Complacent. Quiet. Unyielding. Yet, so very tired... To much pride and integrity to
go back on his word, and his resolve. Without moving, he could sense the steps of Lucius drawing nearer;
black hands resting atop his shoulder. A sense of dread filled him like wine overflowing a glass, but he did
not stir. This simply, had to be done...
"Draw the curtains..." A voice beckoned behind him, as if drawing him into the shadows.
With an outstretched hand, Julius obeyed. He did not deserve the warmth of the sun, or the beauty of
stained glass glowing reflections against him. His only solace in this moment was that at least in the darkened
room, the gaze of the many soulless creatures littered around him in such magnificent disarray could no longer
mock him of a future that he may yet share one day.
"Of course... I suppose it is time for us to begin our exchange... as agreed."
. . .
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