And the show started, all over again. He had spent a good few weeks laying low, simply building on his nest egg yet further. Plans within plans, so many irons in the fire that he sometimes felt a need to grow additional hands. So many fingers in so many pies he began to wonder if this was even worth it in the long run. After all, the pace was so wretchedly slow
, and so frustrating, that he couldn't help but feel frustrated by it all. And then he reminded himself that he had literally forever
to work at this. He could afford a few setbacks, here and there. That was the beauty of immortality, no?
And so this club had been bought out for the day. The DJ, the music chosen, the drinks served, the invitations...all of it orchestrated by him. And he had invited no small number of special guests; there were slumlords so feared and dreaded that their mere presence in the same room as a politician would've made them break into hives at the media shitstorm, there were demons of such power and prestige that they could probably single-handedly crush their host, without pausing for a moment.
And still he sauntered into the building, with an arrogance and certainty that could only be bred from a deep and profound ignorance. He mingled, he strutted, he preened and promenaded with all the presentation of a peacock. He rubbed elbows and shoulders alike, all the time with that same arrogant, hideously mindless grin of confidence on. And he listened
; he soaked in the chatter and the conversation like a sponge, with a talent honed across decades and centuries. He passed from group to group, his presence felt but rarely recognized, his very presence leading the conversations like a pebble dropped inn water, creating faint and slow ripples that moved through and past, without ever truly changing what they struck.
And now, there was but one more guest waiting to arrive. By far, one of the most ordinary of the people he had invited. But then again, ordinary was all relative; he was, after all, one of the most ordinary creatures in existence. A monster, formed from the minds of men long ago. A thing, that had spent so very long finding a purpose for itself. Hardly anything -new-; millions upon millions of stories had followed the same format.
That didn't exactly make him any less deadly.
Coding Altered From: [The Frost]