Post by LUCIUS MAXIMIAN on Jan 16, 2011 23:50:36 GMT -5
THE LANGUID STRINGS DO SCARCELY MOVE
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Long, bright red hair trailing behind with the winds' urging, a figure wrapped snugly in a dark wine red robe was darting through the paths in the public garden. One might mistaken the urgency as a passionate heart's eagerness to be in time for secret rendezvous, and with the quickening pace, all could be seen was a flame dashing past dead trees.
Lucius was late.
Or perhaps it was the Sun that was early.
The praetor clicked his tongue, brushing snow away from his shoulders as he hurried towards his destination. He was anxious. The boy - no, he corrected himself, the man - should have been there for a while. He had not anticipated the onslaught of another senator's visit when he was prepared to leave the judicial courts. Caught up in covering up his investigation of his dearest uncle's death, he had neglected the time while entertaining the talkative senator.
"Nero!" he exclaimed in relief, glad to see the blond, "I apologise for my... lateness." A grimace. He did not like being less than punctual when meeting with a friend. Patting the snow off his robe, Lucius shivered involuntarily. "I do not understand the pleasure of staying out here, when we could have adjourned elsewhere warmer for this." He was referring to having his portrait painted, as it had been almost a year since...
His lips pursed. It had been a year since Nero had painted for him, but more significantly, the same time had passed since Caesar's death.
tag: nero [lulu!]
notes: orz
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THE SOUND IS FORCED, THE NOTES ARE FEW
[/size][/CENTER]THE SOUND IS FORCED, THE NOTES ARE FEW