Lucius graciously placed the cup of what no one in the room would call tea but rather vaguely flavored, lukewarm water down on the table with a discontented gaze. He then proceeded to look up and stare Lord Claus Clausson straight in the eyes.
"Well, executions are certainly not uncommon, but for such a measly crime as tax evasion? And you weren't even there to oversee it yourself?"
He'd already let go of the polite small talk altogether it seemed. It wasn't too much of a surprise since he had few reasons to be happy with the West Kerilia town chief at the moment.
They all sat in a large parlor only furnished with the bare minimum of chairs and a round table in the middle. Luna found it hard to believe Frey, who was terribly picky with interior design, hadn't spoken up about this yet.
"More and more have begun hiding their money away," Claus replied in a low, hoarse voice. Unlike Frey, his father was of the burlier kind with darker blond hair and a square jaw. His eyes were an odd kind of brown, almost like gold, and Luna guessed Frey must take more after his mother. Aside from sharing the same light skin tone the two men had little in common appearance-wise. "It's unfortunate, but drastic measures have become a necessity."
Lucius did not look convinced of course, and Frey looked utterly mortified. Whether the nature of this expression originated from the execution or from the dreadful interior was anybody's guess.
Luna sat quiet for the time being while circling the diamond representing unity in the middle of her harmonia bracelet. While she had her disagreements with the holy sanctuaries and their texts on occasion she still considered herself a believer, and at times of death it was a comfort to imagine people hadn't just up and disappeared.
She was used to executions of course, but hearing a gunshot without knowing where it was headed was enough of a shock for her stomach to start aching, and as soon as they entered the town hall her breathing had stopped completely for a brief moment.
The uncanny similarities of the town hall in her dream and the one she'd just entered made her shudder. She'd never been there before, and still her dream had been uncannily detailed. Fortunately there was no crack in the floor or burnt corpses in this version of it but everything else matched. Like the stairs with the balcony and the door they'd emerged from on the upper floor.
She looked over at Noah who'd been acting strange ever since they'd walked through town, seemingly avoiding things the others couldn't see, and frowned as she noticed his expression.
His eyes were darting around the room, focus repeatedly returning to the doorway between the parlor they were in and the entrance hall, and Luna discreetly tugged at his sleeve. Even if there was any truth to his visions he couldn't keep acting like that.
It was all uncanny though, she'd admit as much. Aside from the lack of furniture and... Well, pretty much anything in the building, two servants accompanied Lord Clausson wherever he stepped, and if Luna hadn't imagined it she thought she'd caught a glimpse of holsters underneath their jackets.
She wasn't one to talk, she supposed. It's not like Vincent walked around unarmed.
Focusing back on the conversation she realized she'd missed out on quite a bit of it, and now they were discussing matters outside of town. Aside from Frey trying to dig further into why his father hadn't informed him of anything it seemed as though they'd left Luna's area of interest.
Shoot.
She turned to Noah again and leaned in close.
"Want to come up with an excuse to go have a look around?"
"... Not really," Noah replied, having turned his gaze towards the West Kerilia town chief instead.
"Fine, I'll go on my own then... Or, well, probably with Vincent but... Alright, so how do I distract them?"
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Daydreams And Nightshade (DaN #1)
ParanormalEccentric, troubled and undesirable, the Hargreaves twins Noah and Luna are often referred to as a curse upon mankind by the society of South Kerilia. And society is right. *** Luna Hargreaves is as unapproachable as they come, armed with poor manne...