Romans & histoires Mason

She must’ve grown taller and looked more like her son now. Then, the black ornate gate swung open slowly, and out came Mason, with an umbrella in his hands. He was wearing a white shirt and black trousers.

Me. “You coming?” He shoots his head back inside. I nod and step out of his pickup and follow him into Mason’s breakfast bar. It’s a quirky joint, all brick and wood on the outside with a large timber door. The sign is black slate with white paint on it in large capital letters, MASON’S BREAKFAST BAR. Old man Mason has owned the joint for longer than my daddy has been alive. Rumor has it that old man Mason is in his eighties. Well you wouldn’t think it to look at him.

Or hunter. “I’m going to check in with Mathias,” Finn states. “Good idea.” Mason ponders, “I can’t link this far away.” He states with a puddled and almost sad look on his face. Opening the door to his room he sighs, “I’ve been spoiled in Cambiador.” Clapping Mason on the shoulder, Finn lets out a deep chuckle “Oh far you have come from sleeping in trees and the cold ground. Meet up later? Hopefully, they bring us food soon.”

he asked, his words laden with incredulity and a hint of sorrow. Mason's smirk widened as he spoke, a sinister satisfaction evident in his tone. "Ah, good old Zion," he remarked, his voice dripping with mockery. "Always judging who is not sticking to your morals and principles. Why would I settle for average when I can be great?" he continued, his eyes gleaming with malice as they settled on John. "And now, I can be the greatest."

I figured I could figure it out faster asking a non-direct question, although now I don't see the logic in it. "Both my parents work here. My dad's a chef and my mom's a maid. I'm a butler, but they're many others." He said." I have to go, but I'll be back. I'll help you with your chores and I'm assigned to keeping you on schedule. Oh, and one more thing. Be careful. Unnatural things happen at this mansion. Whatever you do, don't blow out your candles 'til you have matches, and don't go out at night."

Mason asked as he put on his pants again, and walked to the basin to wash his hands, and then leaned against the door. Mason was a big built man, with tattoos covering his arms and his chest, he didn't have abs but it was very visible that he was a good fighter. A man like him looked dangerous and he was, but he talked too much. His talkativeness did not match his face or his body, it seemed unnatural. "I'm tired of being in this place," he said finally, groaning as he ran his hands in his long shoulder length hair that seemed to grow more every day, "I would kill to just get out of here."

Tessa clenched her fist nervously and chuckled awkwardly. "No. I'm actually going home" She replied. Connor scratched his head and pointed in front. "This isn't the way to your home though" "Yeah... but it's the way to my new home" "What?" He shook his head and Tessa inhaled deeply getting ready for an explanation. *** "Urgh!" Mason grunted painfully and entered his room. He went to his bedroom and sat down on the wooden chair facing a huge mirror. His face was a great definition of sickness and weakness. His face was pale fully sick. His lips were dry, cracky, and white.

“Fuck me, Mason” “I plan to.”

Mason didn’t waste another second. He bolted from the office, storming down the hall with the urgency of a man who just glimpsed the edge of something he couldn’t unsee. His footsteps echoed against the wooden floors as he rushed to the other villa where the shamans live. Orun sat cross-legged near a steaming cup of herbal tea, discussing something with the other shamans. “Orun,” Mason called, breathless and wild-eyed. The shaman turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Gray processes that, his face shifting through a range of emotions before he rolls his shoulders like he's carrying the weight of the entire club on his back—alone. Like he wasn't just off the grid for a whole damn week, claiming it had something to do with Christine and their demon spawn. Like anyone believes that bullshit. "Mace, I need a drink. This candy isn't doing shit right now," he finally mutters. Mason nods and disappears into the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with a glass of whiskey. He hands it off without a word before moving back to his place against the wall, arms crossed, watchful.