BluEndings
The One Called Blu
AZURE DRAGONS
SCENE:
Azure Dragons Arc 3: Scene 3 [Ripples of Stardust]
LOCATION:
Zhànzhēng Resort, East District
PARTICIPANTS:
Omar, Arisa, Hiram, Kazue, Ottilie, Mirza
RIPPLES OF STARDUST
Still clearly jostled, Ervin silently accepted the mercy that had been offered and made his presence scarce.
Mingze Sieh on the other hand, seemed complacent in his own position. There was no telling expression to his face, and his posture remained silent. He exuded neither fear nor confidence, instead a calm that did well to ward off scrutiny. His clothes were obviously well made. Or more accurately said, they were obviously made to look expensive. Showy not in colors but in fabrication.
“Eastington House?” His words dripped with youthful cynicism, but his eyes did not land on Omar. “Right you are. I am Mingze Sieh, first son of Huizhong Sieh. In my father’s stead, I own this establishment, and its administration.”
A pause.
“I had not been made aware of this assembly”—unrest over displeasure. “What is it exactly that ‘Eastington House’ wants? I have had no short of reminders that my decision to house the protestors would lead to a significant plummet of support.” The wavering in his voice was strengthening. “I hope your ‘Eastington House’ doesn’t think we are in desperate need to renew our reputatio—”
A particularly disquieting scream sliced through Mingze’s rhetoric and with it, his conviction.
“What—What was that?”
It was a question directed at the men in the doorway, but an answer to something much more interesting. If there had been suspicions before, the vocal inquiry had solidified any doubt. Despite the loud commotion that was transpiring outside the room, Mingze had only now been exposed to it, and fresh dread began to boil within him.
“Who are you?”
Zhànzhēng Resort | ???
Vahn
Still clearly jostled, Ervin silently accepted the mercy that had been offered and made his presence scarce.
Mingze Sieh on the other hand, seemed complacent in his own position. There was no telling expression to his face, and his posture remained silent. He exuded neither fear nor confidence, instead a calm that did well to ward off scrutiny. His clothes were obviously well made. Or more accurately said, they were obviously made to look expensive. Showy not in colors but in fabrication.
“Eastington House?” His words dripped with youthful cynicism, but his eyes did not land on Omar. “Right you are. I am Mingze Sieh, first son of Huizhong Sieh. In my father’s stead, I own this establishment, and its administration.”
A pause.
“I had not been made aware of this assembly”—unrest over displeasure. “What is it exactly that ‘Eastington House’ wants? I have had no short of reminders that my decision to house the protestors would lead to a significant plummet of support.” The wavering in his voice was strengthening. “I hope your ‘Eastington House’ doesn’t think we are in desperate need to renew our reputatio—”
A particularly disquieting scream sliced through Mingze’s rhetoric and with it, his conviction.
“What—What was that?”
It was a question directed at the men in the doorway, but an answer to something much more interesting. If there had been suspicions before, the vocal inquiry had solidified any doubt. Despite the loud commotion that was transpiring outside the room, Mingze had only now been exposed to it, and fresh dread began to boil within him.
“Who are you?”