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Wilson Harding

~"The conduct of the master and the vicious is through lust and fear. The pleasure is all mine..."



The ride home had been time consuming and for the most part silent. They were no longer in the dense bustling city. They had been driving through the green and open range of the rural countryside. Civilization was lost in the rows of meadows and hedgerows. The benz had pulled into the only building in sight for miles. It was home, isolated in the calm serenity of the untouched meadow, which was paradox to Wilson’s character. The car had come to a halt in the driveway. Wilson was far bored at this point. He was more than anxious to become acquainted with his new piece. The driver dismounted and quickly opened the door for Wilson, then the other side for Angelika. At the doorway, Wilson’s various servants had bowed upon his arrival. There was over a dozen butlers, maids, a cook, groundskeepers, and others standing in formation. They were silent and by the look of it were fearful and weary. Wilson merely paced himself past them, as if he paid little attention to their efforts.
-Wilson: “Disperse and tend to your respective duties. I don't wish to be disturbed.”
He ordered, sounding displeased as ever. A uniform response of “yes master” had been flagged as the staff quickly scrambled to their places. Within a few seconds all were gone and out of view as if they had done this numerous times. Wilson entered the open doorway and glanced back toward Angelika.
-Wilson: “Welcome home.”
He plainly greeted before entering. He casually tucked in his hands within the confines of his pockets. The usual routine of a homecoming, its been done for over a century.

Wilson Harding

~"The conduct of the master and the vicious is through lust and fear. The pleasure is all mine..."



Wilson closely inspected his new slave as she approached him. He eyed her much like a Doberman on guard.
-Wilson: “Well thank you. Home is where the heart is… it’s been in my family for over a century.”
He replied, her comments were similar to her predecessors awe as they first entered. It gave off the initial royal Victorian feel; till it became hell given an amount of time. Many secrets and tragedies revolved around the estate. It was a prosperous and joyful place when Wilson was a child. Things had greatly changed with the betrayal of his brother and the dark incantations preformed here. The home was the very place where Wilson lost the remnant of his soul.
-Wilson: “I’m not quite sure, considering that we will have plenty of time together.”
He said, his expression becoming intrigued as he stepped closer. A slight smirk had imprinted itself as he stood right in front of her. He was a bit over bearing but still withheld from exposing himself.
-Wilson: “I intend on being a good host though. Perhaps I should show you a bit of the Harding hospitality?”
He suggested, extending his hand toward her collar. Slowly, he began rubbing the feel of his thumb against it.
-Wilson: “Maybe we should play a game? Or would you like to relax and have a… chat?”
He asked, his tone was very charmed as he went on with possibilities. In truth, Wilson was merely testing how comfortable his subordinate really was.

Wilson Harding

~"The conduct of the master and the vicious is through lust and fear. The pleasure is all mine..."



Wilson slightly chuckled at her reaction. The sudden flinch had told him exactly what kind of subordinate she was. Behind the naïve and optimistic smile, she was afraid. She seethed in fear with that small touch, the possibilities of how she would respond if he were to do more.
-Wilson: “How very true, I am curious Ms. Navarette.”He replied, the same charming tone remained. He had been used to cutting straight to means of the purchase by immediately claiming what was his. For the most part, it was a very direct and forceful action. However, his curiosity had swayed him otherwise. It’s been ages since he had a decent conversation with another individual. Perhaps, it was a chance to exercise his charisma and persuasion. Maybe even exercise his methods of psychological reaping, or even learning something about his slave. Not like he cared, anyway.
-Wilson: “Let’s converse over a drink then.”
He directed, he motioned for the living room couch. A large portrait of Wilson’s family hung over the fire place. It was a picture of his mother, father, him, and Wilson’s twin standing opposite of him. All were in eighteenth century attire; the details were on painted canvas. Wilson and the look alike were mere children at that point. It was a dark reminder of his past. Yet painfully, he couldn’t bear to remove it from the public eye. The eyes of the other members of the family appeared to be staring as Wilson inspected the very portrait. His face was once again very grave with no emotion what so ever after a few moments of staring. It was an unusual quality, the very reminder of his sins. The fire place was steadily going. The glowing embers gave a somber effect in the lighting. Wilson reversed himself and glanced at Angelika. It was oddly malevolent for a moment but he placed himself by the couch. He took a seat, and crossed his legs in a form of relaxing. The young noble motioned for a non-labeled wine bottle, pouring the fresh dark red substance into a set wine glass. It was his special drink for the occasion, freshly obtained of course. It had a distinct scent; Wilson stirred the liquid and took a good whiff before taking a sip. He was now in the mood to converse.

Wilson Harding

~"The conduct of the master and the vicious is through lust and fear. The pleasure is all mine..."



Wilson continued to drink away at the slight dismay. It was part of a shrinking cache of the essentials for him to continue what it means to be half alive. Luckily, his new source had been sitting at his side. For the most part, he had kept hushed as she went on with such melancholy at the sob of being forced from home and her parents being killed. He had felt no pity for her, losing his parents was a convenience for the young noble. He had very few fond memories with his family; he and his brother were uprooted as lonely children. Often, the two were ignored until they were groomed to inherit the family holdings forcing the two into competition. Regimes like men, always fall, he reminded himself. Overall, his opinion of such story was not in best terms. He always sought the worst in people and had only cared for his wellbeing.
-Wilson: “I simply do not agree to that. Family and morals are just the few aspects of one’s life which they over value its true worth. There’s no simple way to profit from it, so why bother banging on about it?”He scoffed, stirring his drink in the process. Such things were mere curses to him. He had no morality neither a family to truly appreciate. Compared to Angelika’s longing, his mother and father died at the height of the family fortune, and his brother’s whereabouts had become unknown. Everything was accordingly by plan of action and rights to prosper. Family to him had meant impeding what true greatness and an elitist was. He simply did not even care about her story.
-Wilson: “I’ve seen many wars and atrocities go on in Europe… innocent people die every day. Simpletons of the sort, what makes you think there is a better place?”
He asked, having little concern for her beliefs. Wilson remembered the numerous times that he had lived through war in Europe. It was the usual for him, the loss of life and genocide. He had no faith by his actions and had no guilt in doing so. For the righteous, he would be a monster of the infidels, so to speak. The noble had to drain others to satisfy his own needs, a vial parasite disguised by a young man’s charm.

Wilson Harding

~"The conduct of the master and the vicious is through lust and fear. The pleasure is all mine..."



The expression he returned was still that of undeterred. He clearly knew that he upset the poor girl. Yet the last of his comments were of the mildest slip of the tongue for him. He could of went on and ranting by such grizzly and hurtful words. For an immortal, words are words, unless it revolves around religion. He was more than tempted to crush her spirit by some witty and distasteful remark, yet he still needed her for various reasons. The fact that he could easily psych her was well worth the attempt.
-Wilson: “My, My, you are quite the optimistic one aren’t you?”
He slyly responded. He adjusted his spectacles as she asked him the question behind the afterlife. He took a glance once again toward the family portrait. The quality of something was always watching never eluded him. The thought intensified as he glared into the ongoing pit of fire as the embers went on.
-Wilson: “Sadly, no. I’m not well acquainted to such ideal. It’s one detail that will never be brought into this home. I can’t say it’s a substitute for waiting for your life to end. I may not have that luxury, metaphorically of course.”
He answered. A grimaced expression had colored his distaste. There was no divine being for righteousness and forgiveness for him. He did accept there were forces out of the comprehension and grasp of man. He was evidence of it, certainly an immortalized plague if anything. Dark incantations and black sphere of wickedness were the few things he had used to gain immortality. His wrong doings will never go unwashed; therefore, he simply denied anything related to the church or of optimistic belief. He inspected his slave once again. The blonde never ceased to amuse his patience for a human.
-Wilson: “Fascinating…”
He remarked. He ran an empty glance toward her.
-Wilson: “Are you curious of what kind of person I am, Dearie?”

Wilson Harding

~"The conduct of the master and the vicious is through lust and fear. The pleasure is all mine..."



-Wilson: “Perhaps.”
Plainly, the response was that of ignorance toward belief. He never wanted to dive into such conversation and was quickly considering getting the brunt of the anxiety over with. It would be quick and surely a shocker if he would. Her bewildered expression only charged his occurring thought.
-Wilson: “You have the basic gist of the exterior by everything that I just said. I’m the pessimistic, narcissist, and infidel, yes?”
He stated. It was his ploy to fill in gaps if she had an opinion.
-Wilson: “I opted out the obvious of what you are. You’re the naïve and optimistic refugee seeking someone that would tend to their whim? Maybe play a game of checkers with? Or perhaps continue on about what home should be like? I don’t suppose you we’re much of a farm girl back home.”
He ensued. An eccentric emphasis was placed on how her described it, almost like an over educated snob.
-Wilson: “Ruling out the options of what you were. The question is, what do you suppose you should be? Or what you ought' to be?”
Wilson peered down toward his wrist watch. It certainly was passing time by just going in front of the fireplace.

Wilson Harding

~"The conduct of the master and the vicious is through lust and fear. The pleasure is all mine..."



The blonde was still clueless of her place and Wilson’s capabilities. E easily disregarded such words of being more than what he described himself. Maybe, if he was still a mortal.
-Wilson: “Now, now, don’t throw a fit Dearie.”
He said, almost mocking her response. He was determined to make it clear where she stood in his agenda.
-Wilson: “Oh, you’re royalty? So that explains everything about you. The good intent, the almost usual stereotypical blonde conclusions, and the smiles and chuckles that always seem to continue. How very interesting.”
He concluded. The snobbish sarcasm was much intended.
-Wilson: “Luckily, I’m a noble and you’re in a higher position within the hierarchy, no? So I’d have to obey your every whim your majesty, correct?”
Wilson asked, a vibrant curiosity was present in his gaze. He positioned himself closer towards her, a very forceful feel he was expressing.