10-27-2013, 08:08 AM
The car pulled to the gate guarding the grounds of an immaculate estate. His sources confirmed its recent acquisition by the Smith Foundation when its owner extended the invitation to come today.
Their car was admitted entrance, and swung smoothly around the circular drive. When they came to the front steps, Armande emerged without waiting for his door to be opened for him. He viewed himself a servant first and foremost. He was no more king of the Atharim than the Holy Father was of the Church.
The ignorant would confuse him for a cleric, but he was confident Mr. Smith would not. It was a common misconception forwarded by his position over the Vatican Historical Society and some of his more conservative clothing such as what he wore today. Armande abstained from any color but the most pilgrim and penitent, but the muted selection of his current attire, a stylized cassock, similar to the ankle-length robes of the Roman Catholic church, was the shade of spent ash and his high-necked collar was of the warm blanket of desert sand. Together with Armande's white-flecked hair, his luminous blue eyes were all the brighter and piercing with the knowledge of the Age. None could say he was a drab man.
He held his hands behind his back while waiting at the door.
Their car was admitted entrance, and swung smoothly around the circular drive. When they came to the front steps, Armande emerged without waiting for his door to be opened for him. He viewed himself a servant first and foremost. He was no more king of the Atharim than the Holy Father was of the Church.
The ignorant would confuse him for a cleric, but he was confident Mr. Smith would not. It was a common misconception forwarded by his position over the Vatican Historical Society and some of his more conservative clothing such as what he wore today. Armande abstained from any color but the most pilgrim and penitent, but the muted selection of his current attire, a stylized cassock, similar to the ankle-length robes of the Roman Catholic church, was the shade of spent ash and his high-necked collar was of the warm blanket of desert sand. Together with Armande's white-flecked hair, his luminous blue eyes were all the brighter and piercing with the knowledge of the Age. None could say he was a drab man.
He held his hands behind his back while waiting at the door.