Post by Sif on Jul 8, 2015 18:31:30 GMT
Habit was one hell of a thing. Do something the exact same way every day and you start losing track of yourself, don't even realize you've gotten out of bed and into the bathroom, forget how you came to brush your teeth and dress yourself or how you even got out of your room and into the halls of the great castle Alyxander. The soft tapping of his shoes on the floor were one of his few companions, the few servants up and about quickly bowing out of his way as he went along. He disliked the formality but there wasn't much he could do about it being the personal butler to one of the two queens. He did his job without distinction, his steps sometimes muffled as he stepped on the lush carpets underfoot before clacking again as he left them. He didn't get lost, hadn't in a long time. The route was second nature by now and the door easily identifiable, his hand raising autonomously to rap on the door once, then twice and then once more methodically.
"Ma'am? Are you awake?"
His voice was stern and steady, loud but not into a shout. He did not enter her chambers uninvited, not like the maids did. It would go against his teachings to enter the room of a lady in such a manner, the risks of stumbling across a scene that didn't concern him too great. Although he didn't really fear that; his sense of smell still worked fine. He waited patiently at the door, one arm tucked behind his back while the other rested below his breast, his hands clad in gloves. He hated the bloody things and how uncomfortable they were, but sometimes he forced himself to wear them. Particularly in the mornings.
"Ma'am? Are you awake?"
His voice was stern and steady, loud but not into a shout. He did not enter her chambers uninvited, not like the maids did. It would go against his teachings to enter the room of a lady in such a manner, the risks of stumbling across a scene that didn't concern him too great. Although he didn't really fear that; his sense of smell still worked fine. He waited patiently at the door, one arm tucked behind his back while the other rested below his breast, his hands clad in gloves. He hated the bloody things and how uncomfortable they were, but sometimes he forced himself to wear them. Particularly in the mornings.
