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Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling along the length of the table, colorful gems hanging from their arms on the ends of delicate chains. Unlike the ones from the Ranger longhouse, these were electric. There was a large banner placed behind the throne at the head of the table, adorned with the strange Borealan script. The writing was curved and halting, like claw marks in sand, which may very well have been how it had originated in their ancient past. He couldn’t guess at what it meant, but the significance of its placement was obvious. The Patriarch sat in his throne, a wooden base with a tall, baroque headboard that extended far into the air above his head. It was gilded with rare metals, jewels and the bones of fell beasts. It made a clear statement. This was the seat of the Patriarch, at the head of the table as he was at the head of Elysia, and perhaps the whole planet.Along the length of the great table were seated two dozen dignitaries, Alphas and regents, who knew what. ”“You just want to do your own invasion and land on the shores of the Saunders girl!” John Sr. teased.“John, you’re embarrassing him!” Rita gave him a playful slap.“We’ll help you to pack your things and load your car. We’ll miss having you home but realize you do have your own life to live.”“I really, really appreciate everything you’ve done for me!” He gave them both as good a hug as he could, not caring he got wet from them being in the swimming pool.While John was packing, his cell chirped and he was surprised it was Claudia Davenport. He said he was doing better and was moving back to his condo. Claudia asked him if he was up to hearing about the day of the shooting and he said he was. They arranged for her to meet him at home in a few hours.Rita insisted on going grocery shopping with John to make sure he had the essentials in his fridge, then his parent’s helped to freshen up his home. Windows opened and a light cleaning replaced the stale, stuffy air. He waved to them from his.
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