Wednesday, May 16, 1993
(Location: Asherwood)
The Grail manor is a tall, white quartz structure with three square buildings. One at the centre stands a bit larger than the two smaller buildings to each of its sides. On the inside of the massive, glass window that watches over Asherwood from the top of the middle section of the manor, Jude Grail silently peers out into the white painted streets.
His gaze washes over his very own statue, standing, tall and dignified, in the city square.
Jude's eyes shimmer a dull, yet piercing yellow.
His white suit fits perfectly, no creases, rips, or wrinkles can be seen on any inch of the astoundingly well kept fabric. His large wings brush against the floor, the end feathers fading into a light-grey ombre. His eyebrows furrow in a stagnant, unwavering scowl, slightly greying with age at the corners. His handlebar moustache hangs above his thin lips in much the same colour. His hair sits, perfectly gelled, in a left-side part. Not a single strand lays out of place. His arms folded behind his back, his chest and head are raised for the occasion that anyone is to walk past the window, they will see him and admire his resoluteness and solemnity. Everyday, Jude Grail stands at his office window after dinner, in this same position. No matter the weather, no matter his duties or responsibilities otherwise, he insists on being left to his lonesomeness.
Parker is a fool, that man. I kept him in my grasp, appointed him General, all for the sake of keeping a watchful eye on him. From the youthfulness of seven years old, I knew his loyalty to the old AOME, the AOME of my father, was false hearted. It was important that I kept him from being able to act out against me as we aged, and I took control of AOME for myself. But, never once did I foresee that he would find a gap in my authority over him... He found it in his son, and most embarrassingly, in my own flesh and blood. He has, as upsetting as it is to admit, bested me in a way I never even imagined he would uptake. He has manipulated my own household to turn against me, what a commendable feat.
Across the room, a soft knock rattles the oval, white double doors behind him. Next to the doors are a series of book shelves that rise to the ceiling, filled with books adorning gold and scarlet covers. A thin, rose red carpet blankets the floor to the entrance of Jude's study.
"Who is it?" His deep, gravely voice snaps.
"Mr. President, sir, Parker Magnus wishes for a moment of your time." Replies a timid, female voice. Jude turns back to the window, his golden orbs radiating bright light, his brows furrowing deeper into his anger. His wings open behind him, the sudden wind fluttering a few dozen, untouched invitations, off his desk.
"A moment of my time? A moment of My Time? That traitor dares to ask me for a scrap of my time! If he resorts to continuing to play the good dog— the loyal dog under my command... I'll have him hung in the gallows, like the old days of the witch hunt." His yell is followed by silence, although no sound is present, the aura of his rage rings loud and clear.
"Send him in, he wants a moment of my time, I'll spend each and every second making him wish I'd kill him." The old Angel comes to stand behind his long desk, he faces the door, anticipating the moment Parker Magnus walks in. This won't be like every other impromptu visit, Jude's main goal here is answers.
After a few moments, two pairs of footsteps slowly advance to the door, but one sound marches heavier and faster. That same knock comes again, followed by the identical voice from before.
"Mr. President, sir, Parker Magnus is here—"
"No need for that, Eliza, just bring him in." There's a dangerous harshness to his tone, every word on the verge of becoming a furious scream.
"Don't come back until he leaves my office." A warning the young Angel knows well. Eliza wears a white maid's dress with red flats. Her white hair hangs in short, thick curls, and her eyes shimmer with a dark, violet hue. Behind her, Parker pushes past. His long, white hair hangs untied down his back. His wings gracefully come to a folded form at the top of his back, and cascading to the floor. He wears his white military suit, but there is a blank patch where the scarlet letters of, AOME, were once sewn into the crisp, clean fabric.
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