HIATUS.
◤ Ꮴalar Ꮇorghulis. ◢
Ever subservient, only where called upon does a man named
Jaqen H’ghar travel to; be it across the Atlantic Ocean or in his
home of Venice, where the House of Black and White humbly
stands.
It is in Bucharest that grim form sits longer than customary
within black encapsulation of car as musings pertaining to future
assignment fall into tranquil mind. Layers upon layers of beings
once known forged to make no one. Present he is physically,
this man living under a name written on all papers save a birth
certificate, but not is he mentally; only the concept of vassalage
weighs on clothed shoulders, naught else. He flicks his wrist, a
reminder of tangible presence when predominantly amid
shadows, ghosts, vessels of beings, and exits his vehicle.
Thrice he knocks upon his client’s mahogany door. The sound
echoes throughout the luscious gardens surrounding immaculate
construction, pounding only momentarily against innermost apses
of mind. The man holds his hands behind his back and straightens
his form and ( quietly ) clears his throat and stands feet shoulder-
width apart and waits for the ensuing, all being well pleasant,
introduction.
