|bryte (bryte) wrote in olympic_threads,|
@ 2011-08-06 16:49:00
|Entry tags:||bryte, cassandra|
Who: Bryte OT Cassandra
What: A meeting to discuss the past
When: Saturday afternoon
Where: Bryte's office in West LA
Bryte was confused and convinced, there was something he was missing, something just beyond what he had. There was a puzzle piece he was missing, and the young priest was convinced that if he could only find that missing piece, it would all make sense, everything would fit. Unfortunately, he could not find that piece no matter how hard he looked, and ten long years had passed, and his father still lay in his grave, unavenged. It was enough to drive a man mad, and had sent Bryte pouring over his father's books and journals, researching his writings and attempting to read between the lines. At last something had caught his attention, a faint glimmer of hope and nothing more, but it was what had Bryte seated at his desk today.
Dressed in simple but neat clothing, Bryte sat with his hands folded atop his desk, watching the door and feeling foolish for it. The blue button down shirt caused his blue eyes to stand out all the more, his hair had been combed, but the dark strands had a mind of their own, and somehow already looked a bit tousled. Slim toed, sensible black shoes were on his feet, pressed black slacks about his hips. A shoulder holster hung on a hook near the door, the firearm removed from the pouch, the strap covered by his black sport coat. He wore not tie, Bryte never had gotten used to wearing the fancy noose and always felt uncomfortable in the things.
Striking blue eyes flicked down to the journal on his desk, and Bryte reached for it, if only to distract himself from the wait. He was a patient man by nature, but with so many years and so little clues, this small chance had rattled him deeply. He cracked the covers of the book, and it opened naturally to the page he had read a thousand times, his father's account of a girl who had dreams. Visions. A girl everyone thought was crazy, a girl who had confided in his father. She would no longer be a girl, Bryte reminded himself. She would be a grown woman now, and maybe, hopefully, she could be of help to him in his quest for information, for justice, for revenge.