i put socks on my feet

[rottings]

[ hades himself isn't much one for social pleasantries, but he there's great importance to dinners like these, and watching their interactions really is fascinating. the meal is already winding down, but the poet who's been declaiming for the better part of an hour is still going strong.

hades is mostly ignoring him and picking at his food, humming occasional acknowledgement to when people talk to him, as head of the house. most of the slaves waiting on them are positioned around the perimeter of the room, while hades has left mitsunari largely to his own devices. ]

Comments

[outforblood]

[mitsunari is largely ill at ease with the whole situation, and it's been evident in his rigid posture and his permanent scowl. in silence he's stayed near enough to hades so that it's evident who precisely he takes orders from (and none other), but far enough that he isn't intruding, or so he hopes.

primarily, he's been listening. there's nothing much else to do, and it isn't as if he eats. over the voice of the poet (they are much too proud in this place, he thinks) he hears whatever is being said around him. largely it's unimportant. but whenever someone speaks to hades, or about him, or about the family, mitsunari's attention is rapt, eyes narrowing at the distance.

he listens now, as someone speaks idly to hades about the affairs of the estate, and his mouth twitches slightly in a sneer.]

[rottings]

[ the man is a plebian, wearing a simple belted tunic and sandals. hades has him currently kept in one of the side rooms, which is well-lit, neatly furnished, and somewhat at odds with the panicked excuses spilling from the man's mouth. he's also tied to one of the chairs, which somewhat detracts from the quiet chirping of birds in the garden outside.

hades stands in the doorway, having led mitsunari with him from his room to this one without any explanation. ]

Your judgment awaits.

[ he faces into the room, but he turns to direct a smile at mitsunari after speaking. ]