The Taste of Steel

Ok… New beginning, new story, hopefully better than the last onesJ Please give it a chance guys, I’m sure you’ll love it…and when you do, please vote if you can take that extra time… I will love you forever and if you want, I can incorporate your name into the naming of my new cat…DON’T JUDGE ME!!!:P

I’m not a loser, I promise. I only have two cats, but the one has been without a name for about six months…. OopsiesL So if you do want a stranger’s cat named after you, shoot me a message of post one on my board. But on another topic….

NEW STORY! Yay, I’m getting those new story jittersJ THIS IS GONNA BE GREAT, PEOPLE!

SO without further to do…. THE TASTE OF STEEL!! *Squeals*

Prologue

The sound of her worn, weathered leather boots echoed through the hallway, the noise foreign to the expensive mahogany floorboards. The many chains and bracelets, necklaces and pendants the hung from her body clinking together in harmonious discord, jiggling and jangling rang across the huge open passage, ringing over the expensive, imported furniture and priceless pictures.

“Posh,” she mumbled under her breath, the word amplified by the acoustics of the room, frozen in the silence that followed.

“Far too posh.” Her voice was like a bell, yet simultaneously it was as weathered and worn as the shoes on her feet.

Memories flooded her senses, memories of pinching toes and constricted lungs. Memories of exquisite dresses and tight, nearly unbearable hair styles. Memories of when she herself fit right in to the expensive style- the poshness- of this life.

She stopped at the door, nestled safely at the end of the corridor, the heavy wood with inlaid gold that glinted at her inches from her face. She scowled, a face she made so often that her face was so used to it that it almost fell into that position naturally.

The loud thunder of doors on the other end of the hallway broke the heavy veil that had settled over the room and the quick little fast-passed walk, complete with the higher pitched clinking of polished, black shoes. “Miss, did I not advise you to wait until I have personally alerted his Lordship of your presence first?”

His voice was lower, yet in his anxiety the poor butler’s voice was raised in worry and exasperation.

She rolled her eyes and turned to face the man, her assorted jewelry hanging jingling as she spun around, her auburn waves swirling out. “Aye, Rupert, that ye did. But as fate would have it I have rather important business and can’t exactly stay for an elongated period of time, see? On a rather- tight- schedule,” she replied, her accent both obvious and scratchy.

The man, Randal, frowned, his worry lines creasing his forehead. “Miss, it’s Randal, and the master would not like-“

Bang! Bang! Bang!

She interrupted him, slamming her closed fist into the door repeatedly three times, each making the poor old butler to wince. “-if you were to interrupt him.” He finished. “Did no one ever teach you to knock properly? That is quite rude. His Lordship shall be quite annoyed with you, I should think. That door is expensive.”

She tilted her head back and let out a laugh, ringing and light, the sun shining on her auburn hair making it shine. “I’m sure his Lordship,” she said with a sneer. “Will be more occupied with other matters than the nature of my knocking, Randolf. Now, if you’ll excuse me,”

With that she pushed open the door, it’s heaviness causing it to open languidly, creaking as it did.

The room was dark, with only a few windows letting light filter in, so dark that even during the day it required the assistance of a few small candles to illuminate it properly.

It was just as lavish as the conjoining hallway, if not more so, with its rich furniture and priceless art. However, this was more of a study, complete with bookshelves imported and carved from a distant land, that were filled with a wonderful assortment of books, their spines proud and perfectly organized.

At the center of the room was a desk, beautiful and immense, covered in papers. And behind it sat a man. His face was worn, old, and not altogether pleasant, yet it held so much authority and power that just a look from him could make a one grimace.

“How rude,” he drawled, a sneer on his face. “And what might you be doing here, scum? Come to dirty my home with your stench?” His eyes grazed her body judgmentally, summing her up in a single look.

“Wonderful to see ye too, Dad,”