Two men are in a dimly lit room. The older male sitting behind a desk traps the younger who has standing on the other side of the room within his cold gaze. Two identical cold blue eyes peering into one another. The tension in the room frosty.
The younger as though he has grown tired of the staring contest speaks seemingly polite but with a almost rebuking tone "May I ask why have you called for me?"
He pauses before continuing saying the last word almost like a curse. "Father"
His father lifts a brow at that " who told you to start flapping your mouth?" he says flatly continuing his stare if it was anyone else no doubt they would be uncomfortable, the younger male promptly closes his mouth. Staring waiting for the older male to speak but something still seems to agitate the male as his brows furrows. He slams the table with his hands "look down boy, staring at me with the face of that whore."
The younger bows hiding his face from view without a word. Seemingly docile but if one were to look hard enough they would notice how his jaw clenches and the way he tightens his fist hard enough for faint veins to bulge out. Whether he's father has noticed or not he doesn't say instead he finally answers his previous question. "Count vestulla and his son will be visiting today I need to discuss business with him. SHE and him used to be friends no doubt he will wish to see you. Make sure to accompany his son so I can speak with him in private." The way he spoke to him was cold lacking any warmth like he was ordering a servant. He dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
On his way out the butler keeps his head down nothing betraying his emotions even as sees the blood trickling down the young masters clenched fist as he stalks off. You couldn't really call Damiens home life abusive the Duke never beat him severely maybe slapped him around a few times for being inept but there was a coldness everywhere Damien looked since his mom died. When his mom was alive it was all smiles and giggles. Gentle scolding, telling scary stories, running around the halls. She used to call him her little devil cause he was so mischievous. He never knew how much she was going through how much she was crying till it was too late. She was dead and with her, that version of him too. Before he knew it he already had reached his room. With a sigh he had plopped on his bed, "why didnt you take me with you? How could you just leave me mama?."
But no one could give him an answer. As he stared at the ceiling the silence long and mocking. He didn't know how long he was just sitting there till a row of servants came in to clean and dress him for the arrival of the count and his son.