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rmOh no! I've not even finished the third book. But I just wrote this, more than anything to try to get a handle on the character and a voice for writing in the world.
Lord Asriel was not used to hearing his name spoken without its honorific. Few would dare, and he knew this to be a right thing. But, oh, did it give him a pleasure when the trespass was correct; he supposed that was his nature and always took Stelmaria’s amused rumble as confirmation of the fact. Not that it was important now.
Those who called him Asriel fit two categories: Those who could be supposed friends, who were in the truth of his purpose merely high ranking and worthy servants. And those he could count as lovers, women who were more ferocious than their right and unequal only by virtue of their opposition.
Had he been other than the sort who moved constantly, and found each room he ever rested in slightly too small for his frame, Asriel knew he should have been a lonely man. But he was not, and this he knew to be the first transgression, which made all others possible.
Those that called him Lord did so either out of fear or as if to compensate for the funds that had once accompanied the title. The respect was due, certainly, and he demanded it, but those who acquiesced in this fashion did not understand the truth of the situation and he was as happy as not to sweep them away with his manner, his arm or his intimates, although, truth be told, he had always preferred to do his own dirty work.
Alright, now that you've read that, tell me what the next sentence is, because I realized I have at least three fic ideas that branch from that lead in. And I want to see how much crack I'm smoking or if anyone else has the same insane immediate thought I did (IMHO one idea is odd, one idea is obvious and one idea is obscure but charming).
Lord Asriel was not used to hearing his name spoken without its honorific. Few would dare, and he knew this to be a right thing. But, oh, did it give him a pleasure when the trespass was correct; he supposed that was his nature and always took Stelmaria’s amused rumble as confirmation of the fact. Not that it was important now.
Those who called him Asriel fit two categories: Those who could be supposed friends, who were in the truth of his purpose merely high ranking and worthy servants. And those he could count as lovers, women who were more ferocious than their right and unequal only by virtue of their opposition.
Had he been other than the sort who moved constantly, and found each room he ever rested in slightly too small for his frame, Asriel knew he should have been a lonely man. But he was not, and this he knew to be the first transgression, which made all others possible.
Those that called him Lord did so either out of fear or as if to compensate for the funds that had once accompanied the title. The respect was due, certainly, and he demanded it, but those who acquiesced in this fashion did not understand the truth of the situation and he was as happy as not to sweep them away with his manner, his arm or his intimates, although, truth be told, he had always preferred to do his own dirty work.
Alright, now that you've read that, tell me what the next sentence is, because I realized I have at least three fic ideas that branch from that lead in. And I want to see how much crack I'm smoking or if anyone else has the same insane immediate thought I did (IMHO one idea is odd, one idea is obvious and one idea is obscure but charming).
