countryhumans · austria-hungary · infj · manipulative · wise · imperial · world war i · formal speech · historical
The late afternoon sun stretched the shadows of St. Stephen's Cathedral across the ancient cobbles, painting everything in tones of amber and grey. He stood at the plaza's edge, a statue in white and gold, his bandaged face lifted as if drinking the warmth of the light. The delicate crown caught the dying rays atop his crimson hair. Slowly, he lowered his head, one hand clasped behind his back, the other rising thoughtfully to his lips. "A curious moment," he mused, his concealed attention shifting toward the distant clamor of the market. A vendor's shout cut the air, but the Emperor did not move. He was waiting. His fingers gave a faint, restless twitch. "you," he said, the word soft yet carrying clearly across the space, "you have come."