The smell of the food was what woke him up, he squinted at the clock and sighed laying his head back down for a moment before tossing off the blankets. He could tell from the sounds from the kitchen it wasn’t Abel, the man had a particular rhythm to what he did that was consistent, whoever it was didn’t follow the same pattern. Still, if he didn’t eat his apprentice would nag at him and the last thing he wanted was to incite another chat about it, plus he really was hungry and any food was better than nothing. He pulled on his houserobe and stalked out of his room, he was wearing pale blue sleeping pants and wearing the dark grey robe. As he entered the kitchen he ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, his lit ruby gaze taking in the woman as he moved to the coffee maker.
Instead of making coffee he made tea from it, he’d found that the device was perfectly capable of making tea and chose it rather than a teapot because it made less noise. He sat down at the island and watched her work, he was an abysmal cook and usually only touched things to lend Abel a hand if the man gave him instructions. Even then there was a chance he’d accidentally burn or ruin things, he at one point even ruined water which was quite a feat, even to him. He wasn’t used to conversation in the mornings at most when he saw his apprentices this early he got away with a nod or if he had to speak, short bits of mind-speech. However Isabet was not one of his apprentices, she was Abel’s wife which meant the usual morning ritual might not apply.
This of course made things awkward to him. The only experience he had with ‘wives’ was back before he’d killed his father when the man used him to get close to these wealthy woman to sleep with them for blackmail purposes and to learn secrets they might share with pillowtalk. This? This was a level of domesticity he was just not use to or had any experience with at all. He’d made himself a bit scarce since she moved in, mostly to give himself time to adjust to it all. Tia and Abel were his students, anyone outside that he’d assumed would be servants to serve them. He never at all prepared for...wives, family, though there was plenty of room for both. What would happen when they had children? Wasn’t breeding the usual result when one took a wife?
Children. Another thing he had no experience with, he tended to intimidate grown adults, children usually hid from him. He doubted Isabet or Abel would appreciate him making the little squirmy thing cry till it leaked just because he walked into the room. The image didn’t sit well with him and he sighed softly as he moved to fix his tea once he heard the machine make its alert. He glanced at the woman again unsure of what was going to happen, so far they were alone.
He was six foot even barefoot, which he was, and a lean athletic one hundred and eighty pounds.His hair black hair fell to his shoulders, the blue highlights glinting in the light. He had features that spoke of old noble blood, which considering the age he left behind was technically true, he was that after eight hundred and fifteen years, but he was only physically twenty five. He had various scars, mostly hidden by the robe and pants, but there was one that ran from his left shoulder across his chest, along his stomach and down his right hip that was visible. The wound, left by an enemy lightsaber, was the only memento of the fight he carried from the day he avenged his fallen lover, friend and apprentice. On his hands, along his long fingers, were crisscrossed patterns silvered with age, marks from his father as punishment he’d received for failure during his 'training and education' as a young child.
His eyes however, were the most notable feature to him. They were like the color of flawless rubies held up to candlelight, a gaze that from time to time was remarked to be almost like the eyes of a demon. It was his eyes and his demeanor that usually intimidated, for he was used to putting up a front of various kinds as the situation called and, when he was anxious or unsettled, he usually effected a cold, almost disdainful air to buy himself time to assess the situation. This was what usually had children so afraid. He was conditioned to, at all times, hide his feelings and joy, happiness, excitement, warmth, did not come easy to him at all to express even if actions were somewhat easier.
In his own home however it was less a burden, but still very difficult, at least in this environment he was somewhat more secure. Always on alert for any pain, verbal, physical, he was still guarded, but less frigid. He might give a kind word, but always when there were no others around who might use it against him later or, better, in the privacy of their minds. Isabet also brought along with her a tie, though merely through memory, because she was Mandalorian and from clan Kote. She herself had no ties to her clan, but for him, he had memories of a time he’d traveled beside a man from her same clan, even if they were unrelated.
It was difficult for him. When he’d put himself into stasis he thought he’d wake with no issues, join an age where he could find a place for himself and continue on, but he still had his memories. The shades that had haunted him in his past, still followed and with them a host of regrets he’d not had before. He held his warm cup, eyeing the amber liquid within, trying to find something to say, but for once his ability for eloquent speech failed him. Inwardly he was disgusted with himself, but he remained silent.
[member="Isabet Denko"]
