Thread: Lead Us Not Into Temptation (LoveTheWayYouLie x VforVienna)

To the Honorable Law Commissioner, It is with grave desperation that I write to you to implore your assistance with a matter most dire. On the morning of Sunday the 12th of this very month, as our community gathered to the Church for morning service, our beloved Reverend Giles Warren was found dead upon the sacred buildings very steps. If this were not a devastating shock within its own right, the manner in which his body was found beseeches me to write to you for aid. His throat had been cut from to ear to ear, but no blood was spilled upon the steps. And most peculiarly, the petals of a bloomed red rose were found not only in the deceaseds mouth, but with a single petal laid across each eye. I implore you, your Honor, to aid Larkhill with our grief and confusion. We are shaken to the core and fear the presence of this unknown Devil who could have committed this vile act. Whomever you charge with this I will see personally lodged and taken care of within my own home. With Deepest Respect, Mayor Jonathon Hale Since its settlement prior to the war, the small village of Larkhill had been an ultimately peaceful place. With a close-knit population never teetering over 400, a resident could barely sneeze without the entire village knowing within a matter of hours. This intimate knowledge of ones neighbors for the most part reassured the people of their safety - it was a seemingly picturesque place, carved upright and deeply rooted in moral principle. But like most villages accustomed to their solitude, an underlying distrust was present in the face of any outsider. When the Reverend was found slain, the outcry of the community was that surely none of them had committed the crime a flurry of paranoia swept through the streets, and those visiting Larkhill were rounded up and brought before the Mayor for questioning. Yet finding no reason or evidence to condemn the accused, Mr. Hale simply requested the visitors not to leave the village until the matter was settledlest they take suspicion along with them. Surely your Father cannot keep us here! Arthur Glassman glowered, slouching his large form at a table at the local pub, gripping a mug of coffee so tightly within his large hand that his knuckles paled. I have a business at home to run I cannot idle about here while your village writhes in its xenophobia, Across from him, sitting upright with long fingers delicately laced upon his lap, Thomas Hale listened with gentle sympathy. The young man, barely into his 19th year, had been sent to console those detained. Most had reluctantly accepted but Mr. Glassman, with his flushed red skin to match his coarse fiery hair, had proved less than cooperative. Brushing a hand back through his own dark hair, Arthur gently picked up his tea and took a sip, allowing the man in front of him to seethe a few breaths. From a distance, one could liken in jest the arrangement as a giant from some fairy tale sitting across in dispute from some Fey prince. Truly Thomas carved features and lean figure would match the creatures of legends from the Old World, if not the striking hue of his eyes a shade of blue as fluctuating as the states of water...gentle and serene, as piercing as ice, or clouded with strange distance.. Whispers were passed through Lakehill of a strange air about the Mayors son, though none would dare speak above a hushed tone on the matter. The boy was charming and kept mostly to himself, and with matters such as these, he seemed more capable than his Father of smoldering any potential panic fires. Well Mr. Corey, I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience that our loss may be causing you or your business, Arthur spoke softly but directly, the faintest hiss of sarcasm on his tongue, arching a dark brow in the direction of the visiting tradesman who grimaced slightly at the statement, My Father has received notice that a Constable will be arriving soon to aid us with this matter. I can assure you that you will be on your way in due time, Standing up and straightening his coal-colored jacket, Thomas plucked a few coins from his pocket and set them beside his tea. Oh, this means youll be able to participate in our Harvest festival, A smile pulled at the youths lips, So your delay will not be entirely dreadful, hm? Not intending to stay behind for a response, Thomas turned on his heel and left through the door his eyelashes fluttering gently at the mist of fog that greeted him outside. Though well into the afternoon, the haze had not lifted, so there had been little point to taking his horse that day though even if the skies had been clear, Thomas would have elected to walk. He was not keen on returning to the shouting and bickering old men that had clotted his home for the last weekand besides, walking gave better chance for him to catch an early glimpse of this visiting Constable upon his arrival. That smile still lingering upon his lips turned up slightly at one end as the young man exhaled a content sigh. It had been some time since he had met a man from the city...