Post by SinclairGodfrey on Feb 26, 2024 18:43:06 GMT -5
‘Reese, Reese, Reese.’
The voice of Sinclaif Godfrey purred from the darkness, and she leaned slightly forward so the pale moonlight fell across her pretty face. It washed her hair a paler shade, and her long coat rustled as she shifted. A hand moved to sweep aside a layer of dead petals and dust, and then lifted them before dropping them slowly.
‘What small creatures you and your High Roller’s Club are. You preen, and whore, and pimp your way across the XHF crawling from company to company, leeching onto this one and that one. And then you? You. Have the gall to speak to me as though we are equals, Preston? As if the fact of who your father is makes a difference to me?’
A pause.
‘To us.’
Sinclair shrugged, head tilting before her fingers scraped up the dead leaves once more. She stared down at them, and her eyes narrowed as she looked at the camera.
‘You know the difference between you and Slam the Third, Preston? His father at least has enough pride in his son to show up. Where is the Superstar? Not here. Nowhere to be seen, probably ashamed that his legacy is being spent to act as a lackey to Wesley Crane. And you think you can take this–’
Sinclair reached into the shadows, and the pale moonlight fell across the golden plate adorned with the flags of the Commonwealth. She held it up, head tilting to look at it before she dropped it to the floor laying it across the floor of the crypt.
‘--this from me? From Donzig-gun? Oh, no, Preston that will not be happening in Belfast. You will be facing down the wrath of the Baroness. And I am going to drag you out to deep waters, I am going to drag you into the eye of the storm! As you flail and struggle, as you try to survive the pain that I inflict on you? You will find out that the apple falls very far from the tree!
You talk, and talk, you prattle on about your father and how you learned so much from him. But Preston? I know a thing or two about legacies myself. I have spent my entire life trying to live up to the legacy of the Godfrey name, I have spent my life being prepared to reign over Godfrey Hall, to take my place as one of the noble peers of the realm.
I have learned to use every weapon at my disposal, every tool I could lay my hands on to ensure that legacy continues!’
Sinclair smiled, an evil smile as her fingers dragged across gold and enamel. A shrug, and she looked up once more, hair falling across her face before she spoke again. Tapping her fingers against the title.
‘I learned lessons at the hands of a master far more cruel, far more demanding than even your father. The Scourge does not favor weakness! And every day, every day I had to prove my worth to him! And unlike say, Wesley Crane? He was not impressed by my name, or my blood, or even my wealth!
Only blood and hunger can pay the masters, Preston.
Everyday when you are out there with your money, your wealth, and your privilege! Everyday things are handed to you! But Preston? While you are impressing the High Roller’s Club with your bravado like a child? While you show your precious friends how funny you are?
I was down in the Pits. I was helping to rule a collection of monsters that you have barely seen. In the darkness of the Fall, I helped the Scourge reign in Donzig-gun! And so Preston when I tell you that in Belfast you will learn to fear us?’
A wicked smile, and she lifted the belt to drape it across her shoulder. She rose slowly, and shrugged as she looked around the dark crypt.
‘I am being very serious.’
She looked around before her eyes settled on the dead crumbling leaves, and she shrugged.
‘The leaves of fall are very pretty, Preston. They are golden, red, and yellow. They are here for a moment, and then? A cold wind blows, and they fall. Scattered on the wind, tossed aside into oblivion.
Preston. You and the High Roller’s Club are like the leaves of fall, and sadly? Winter has come to WUK. A long cold winter, and the sun will be bloated from the sky. It will be plunged into darkness! And this title?
This is the first sign of an early frost.’
The foot of the Baroness descended, and the leaves broke and crumbled beneath her toes. She ground them into the earth, and those leaves were destroyed and blown aside as she moved to turn away. Her coat swirling, and she paused to look back.
‘See you soon.’
The voice of Sinclaif Godfrey purred from the darkness, and she leaned slightly forward so the pale moonlight fell across her pretty face. It washed her hair a paler shade, and her long coat rustled as she shifted. A hand moved to sweep aside a layer of dead petals and dust, and then lifted them before dropping them slowly.
‘What small creatures you and your High Roller’s Club are. You preen, and whore, and pimp your way across the XHF crawling from company to company, leeching onto this one and that one. And then you? You. Have the gall to speak to me as though we are equals, Preston? As if the fact of who your father is makes a difference to me?’
A pause.
‘To us.’
Sinclair shrugged, head tilting before her fingers scraped up the dead leaves once more. She stared down at them, and her eyes narrowed as she looked at the camera.
‘You know the difference between you and Slam the Third, Preston? His father at least has enough pride in his son to show up. Where is the Superstar? Not here. Nowhere to be seen, probably ashamed that his legacy is being spent to act as a lackey to Wesley Crane. And you think you can take this–’
Sinclair reached into the shadows, and the pale moonlight fell across the golden plate adorned with the flags of the Commonwealth. She held it up, head tilting to look at it before she dropped it to the floor laying it across the floor of the crypt.
‘--this from me? From Donzig-gun? Oh, no, Preston that will not be happening in Belfast. You will be facing down the wrath of the Baroness. And I am going to drag you out to deep waters, I am going to drag you into the eye of the storm! As you flail and struggle, as you try to survive the pain that I inflict on you? You will find out that the apple falls very far from the tree!
You talk, and talk, you prattle on about your father and how you learned so much from him. But Preston? I know a thing or two about legacies myself. I have spent my entire life trying to live up to the legacy of the Godfrey name, I have spent my life being prepared to reign over Godfrey Hall, to take my place as one of the noble peers of the realm.
I have learned to use every weapon at my disposal, every tool I could lay my hands on to ensure that legacy continues!’
Sinclair smiled, an evil smile as her fingers dragged across gold and enamel. A shrug, and she looked up once more, hair falling across her face before she spoke again. Tapping her fingers against the title.
‘I learned lessons at the hands of a master far more cruel, far more demanding than even your father. The Scourge does not favor weakness! And every day, every day I had to prove my worth to him! And unlike say, Wesley Crane? He was not impressed by my name, or my blood, or even my wealth!
Only blood and hunger can pay the masters, Preston.
Everyday when you are out there with your money, your wealth, and your privilege! Everyday things are handed to you! But Preston? While you are impressing the High Roller’s Club with your bravado like a child? While you show your precious friends how funny you are?
I was down in the Pits. I was helping to rule a collection of monsters that you have barely seen. In the darkness of the Fall, I helped the Scourge reign in Donzig-gun! And so Preston when I tell you that in Belfast you will learn to fear us?’
A wicked smile, and she lifted the belt to drape it across her shoulder. She rose slowly, and shrugged as she looked around the dark crypt.
‘I am being very serious.’
She looked around before her eyes settled on the dead crumbling leaves, and she shrugged.
‘The leaves of fall are very pretty, Preston. They are golden, red, and yellow. They are here for a moment, and then? A cold wind blows, and they fall. Scattered on the wind, tossed aside into oblivion.
Preston. You and the High Roller’s Club are like the leaves of fall, and sadly? Winter has come to WUK. A long cold winter, and the sun will be bloated from the sky. It will be plunged into darkness! And this title?
This is the first sign of an early frost.’
The foot of the Baroness descended, and the leaves broke and crumbled beneath her toes. She ground them into the earth, and those leaves were destroyed and blown aside as she moved to turn away. Her coat swirling, and she paused to look back.
‘See you soon.’
