A storm to would-be death

[spysinspades.livejournal.com]

[He'd gotten the power back. He'd finally (though it was hard to tell if his efforts had actually done anything for it) coordinated everything and the power was back on.

And he was so tired. Ready to sleep. Sleep harder and longer than he had in years. Until this little anonymous (no, that wasn't true. He knew him, knew all his Spades. It was just the exhaustion talking, the exhaustion) had appeared to what?

What, exactly did this child thing he could do to the King of Spades?

Nothing.

Which is why his voice is a frozen rumble as be literally tosses the would-be assassin out of his room, stalking into the hallway after the body.]

That is not acceptable behavior.

Comments

[piquedbutler.livejournal.com]

[]

[spysinspades.livejournal.com]

[David doesn't doze through that. Declan is gentle, but this hurts no matter how gentle on it.

His eyes are closed, though, his head tilted back against the chair. Cycling through attempts at meditation - a skill he'd never actually managed to achieve.

He would be dead if Chives ever decided the King shouldn't remain - the trust was implicit.]

[piquedbutler.livejournal.com]

[] Anything else, milord?

[spysinspades.livejournal.com]

[It was something that David relied on, Chives' aversion to change.

There was nothing else he wanted. He desired company.]

No thank you, Declan. That will be all.

[piquedbutler.livejournal.com]

Of course, sire.

[]

[spysinspades.livejournal.com]

[No, the King doesn't object even in the slightest.]