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Post by Tybalt on Nov 10, 2011 23:44:47 GMT -5
Tybalt had washed, body aching, the reality of the situation beginning to fully set in and gnaw at him. He was half a continent away from Verona for no reason or purpose, which did not seem possible, yet it was- and being kept away from his cousin and the enemies of Capulet House by his imprisonment by his host, the dictator of a country he'd never heard of.
He took off his clothes - only the pants his own at this point - and crawled into bed, falling asleep immediately. He had no idea what the morning would bring.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 11, 2011 8:47:11 GMT -5
How best to accommodate this guest? By hauling his translator out of bed for an emergency meeting. (Not that he actually needed one very often, but they proved useful for when it suited him to appear ignorant of what was being said.) Then more deliberation in his private quarters regarding the fate of this prisoner -- a murderously powerful youth and the family whose champion he claimed to be. He might still be an assassin, but a rather inept one, from his scattered recollections of the night before. (Sending an otherwise perfectly mundane epileptic gypsy assassin to get the job done was an insult. If Verona had been the slightest bit closer to Latveria's borders, it'd have been taken as a declaration of war.) Perhaps he'd arrived here as a parting gift from his red-headed companion, or by some magical power previously latent. Regardless, the raw materials were there for an excellent cupbearer. Until matters became more clear, the thing to do would be incorporating him into his personal staff. Even if it did unfold as a grand assassination plot, it had been countered with graciousness and good manners, and Doom was secure in his abilities.
Then there were the evening's other activities to take care of, security systems and inactive robot doubles. By the time Victor retired to a dreamless sleep, the whole thing seemed, in his mind, very clear and orderly.
In the late morning, Tybalt would be visited by two guardsmen, both of them gamely trying to utilize the handful of Italian words they'd been compelled to learn. Understandably, they weren't very happy about it.
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 11, 2011 18:23:58 GMT -5
Tybalt was already awake and dressed, but he looked as though he hadn't slept all night. The possibility of never going back to Verona again had haunted him even though a total absence of dreams. He was starting to wonder if this had something to do with Mercutio, and beginning to regret that the last memory he had of fucking him was hazy from drink.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 11, 2011 19:46:11 GMT -5
They inquired (clearly enough to be understood, at least, the alternative to picking up these phrases the old-fashioned way made one a fast learner) whether he had slept well, and that Doom was breakfasting in the north tower's solarium.
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 11, 2011 19:49:33 GMT -5
"Does my lord require me?" Tybalt sighed, running a hand through his largely unbrushed hair, pulling the shoes on. "All right, all right..."
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 11, 2011 19:55:30 GMT -5
For a moment, the guards' looks might have seemed a little pitying.
"Quickly, sir."
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 11, 2011 19:59:46 GMT -5
Tybalt washed his face with water and nodded, following them silently.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 11, 2011 20:13:46 GMT -5
When they arrived, the guards, who until then had flanked Tybalt fairly calmly, announced their presences and drew back as quickly as possible. The solarium wasn't much of a room -- clearly a vanity addition at some point, little more than an enlarged balcony with windows for its walls. It looked out over nothing particularly important, but the sun streamed in.
Victor sat with his back to the doorway, casting a long shadow. His mask lay in his lap while he had his morning meal, and for all the brightness of the room he was still incongruously hooded.
Upon realizing he had a visitor -- one he hadn't expected with such promptness, even with a threat behind it-- he made a small show of wiping his mouth and beginning to reattach his mask.
"Sit down, or kneel," he said conversationally, as if either might be acceptable and comfortable.
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 11, 2011 20:16:57 GMT -5
Was this a test? To see which one Tybalt chose on his own? Tybalt got down on one knee, not appearing to find the position uncomfortable. It was, of course, but he was so used to discomfort in one form or another that it hardly crossed his mind.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 11, 2011 20:20:47 GMT -5
When Doom did turn, he seemed mildly surprised, as far as one could tell, but pleased.
"Very good."
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 11, 2011 20:22:48 GMT -5
He bowed his head.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 11, 2011 20:28:05 GMT -5
"Are you feeling any better?"
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 11, 2011 20:38:23 GMT -5
He had to think of this. It was not a question he was asked often.
"...a little, my lord."
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Post by Victor von Doom on Nov 12, 2011 10:23:53 GMT -5
"Are you more prepared to talk today?"
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Post by Tybalt on Nov 12, 2011 23:22:42 GMT -5
"Yes, my lord."
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