William was no man of God, nor was he one who proclaimed a faith. Belief in such powers beyond what he himself was capable of, was not to be part of his personality. There was no ritual of prayers to send up towards the sky. No perfumed incense to set light, and fill lungs with. No, the only hymally the man knew was moments like this… moments like this when William worked the buttons free.<br/><br/>Angels, Demons, Heaven and Hell had no say in the words that were behind those turbulent blues, nor could they decipher the code of the language. What William thought only he knew behind those vaulted glances.<br/><br/>Hand, the very one that was used to seize hold of the woman’s chin hovered but a moment as the clothing dropped away as he stood still behind. A hidden indiscretion, one that wished to make physical contact upon the slope of her shoulder blade. The man wanted to reach out, caress, feel and taste.<br/><br/>Yet, that was not the deal.<br/><br/>So, before even Vivan could notice the hint of heat his hand produced near her back, it fell away into that steady rhythm of…<br/><br/>Click.Click.Tap.<br/><br/>This was not a<i>game</i>or at least not in the traditional sense. Sure, those eyes that seemed to forever crash against the shore, did slowly crawl across her flawless skin. Yes, even the heart rate quickened, but it remained hidden below the expensive cloth of jacket and shirt. It was not the leer of a dock worker. It wasn’t even one that was merely for gratification.<br/><br/>It was a ritual.<br/><br/>Before the eyes of her new Master she bathed, acknowledged that while memories could be saved, the present forever sought to burn away the past.<br/><br/>Click.Click.Tap.<br/><br/>Already had he circled once in that silence as layer after layer was removed, and perhaps the indifference (or attempted indifference) would once again merely make her feel like a horse at market. These things mattered not, for all things that were William’s were William’s. The plot point of this little development in his mind was simply that.<br/><br/>“I have given my word and so have you Vivian…”<br/><br/>Click.Click.Tap.<br/><br/>Voice that had been prime, powerful, directed enough to usher around a man to which William calls a monster, but now it was hushed and conspiratorial. It was like a secret only between them, and meant to stay that way.<br/><br/>Could she feel it? Could she feel that thing bound in ice water chains within him. Could she hear the crashing madness of the typhoon ever so close to the docks? Could she hear loud cracks of thunder and monsters being born in downpours? Water, blue, liquid, cold, drowning, deep, endless….dark. Could she feel it? Could she feel the thing just behind his blue eyes?<br/><br/>Click.Click.Tap.<br/><br/>Now standing directly before her, not a single one of his fingers ever having been misused to break the deal. Undress, that was it. What was it that he said about Brak? Ah yes, the monster keeps his word. Seems this one does as well.<br/><br/>Did Vivan look away? Did she turn her eyes down? Or would she catch him looking at her face, the curve of her cheek, the slope of her neck, the curve of her side contoured by her breast. Did she know that he noted the flawless skin? The nervous nature to her scent? It wasn’t just sexual gratification that his mind noted. It was meat, bone and muscle. It was the nervousness. It was her toes, hair, lips, eye lashes.<br/><br/>William kept to the deal, and was looking at exactly what he had inherited in every detail.<br/><br/>“Tomorrow morning, we will return, and an early lunch will be served at eleven. You will attend, sup with us, and then you will spend some time with Mister Weaver. While you may dress your room or study as you see fit, the clothing you shall present to the others is of importance.”<br/><br/>Again his eyes turned from the casual glance to Vivan one would have while simply conversing, and it dug across her once more.<br/><br/>“I will leave it to him what to make, but I doubt you will be washed in my awful blue. I would think of him to make something red to compliment your tortured hair, but as always I leave the experts to their work.”<br/><br/>Left hand was lifted outward, only to be drawn in, and the half bow at the waist was as honorable as one would give a Queen or Princess. His eyes though, and that thing just below the surface was there… The two of them never took their single set of eyes off of this beautiful woman to which they now owned.<br/><br/>“It has been a pleasure Vivan, if you can manage it may your dreams be sweet and your bed be warm.”<br/><br/>Without further ado, the man turned upon the shiny glossed heel of shined shoes, and opened the door that lay now behind him. The fading day outside breathed hair as it was allowed in by the action, and with only a single glance over the shoulder at the woman… the sole occupant of this house filled with ghostly memories.<br/><br/>She could hear him even though that thick door between them as he closed it. Could hear that sound trailing off into the distance, and somehow, as if there was a perfume of it on him…<br/><br/>Vivan would know William was thinking of her.<br/><br/>Pausing now at the end of the graveled drive, William turned, pebbles grinding against his shoes as he stood near the carriage. Looking up and over the face of the manor, and gazing at the highest point of it.<br/><br/>This man did not believe in God. This man did not believe in the Devil. This man only believed in what was possible, and what he had planned?<br/><br/>Well that was just possible enough to work.<br/><br/>William entered the carriage, and was driven to town to join his men.