OOC: This is part of
The Dessert Table. Please read the rules of the table if you wish to join! Thanks!
Also
this song by Alter Bridge always makes me thing of the epic things Leif does! and his dramas!
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The white wisps of smoke from his cigar wafted up from the tip's burning ash as the man leaned against the great stone wall that swept around the gardens in a massive frame. Vines crawled along the edges of it, and nightblooms were beginning to awaken, and the sky- already turning violet, was awaiting the night. The stars had come out, peeping out from behind a few thin clouds that were capped in gold light from the setting sun.
His own form was drafted in the same color, and long shadows stretched across the way, one of them hiding Leif Arrant from sight. The garden, although not entirely abandoned, offered a nice place of solace for the brooding man; for he had a lot to consider that night.
Much has happened in his life since he had dawned a real mask to become his alter ego:
The Masked Mordecai. But even still, as he wore a different mask today, his brooding expression seemed open to the world. He felt as cold as his costume, which was a decadent display of pillows of silver sparkles and white. He and his wife, Lady Valentina, had come as a pair- the Snow King and Queen, and even his hair was painted in a white frosting and glittering in silver, to represent snow. His skin was also powdered over, his lips painted blue, and his insides now curdling into knots.
It had been some time since he had become married, and since he had been recovering from his wounds when he had attacked the church, and also..... since he had realized who the true identity of his masked partner was and had savedhis sister from the church. But an evil presence was lurking, this much he knew-
but even still, his thoughts could not be torn from how he had been treating his wife as of lately and well....
The fact he never told her he loved her was eating away at him- and tearing him apart, piece by piece. He found a panged tear, prickling the corners of his eyes. No. He would not cry. He angerily flicked some ash aside from his cigar at the very thought of it before steeling back any tears and taking in a long, salty drag.
