Welcome to Gaia! ::

The Governor's office rests within the manor where generations of Nevermores have lived and ruled. It is open from a main street entrance during the day and early evening. The Nevermores ruled with a very open policy, and left their doors open for their city to come in and speak of important matters, and also just to visit.

The Nevermore Manor sits in the north side of the city, a cobblestone stroll from downtown. There are signs of weathering and decay on the outside, but the interior is well cared for. The doors of this house are still open.

There is only one surviving Nevermore, and her name is Nina. Rumors are that she keeps herself shut up in this house, though no public information has been released about her whereabouts.

For some, this house is like a museum of old painful memories of an entire family that had it all and was wiped out by misfortune. One wife who died before her time. A husband who was murdered in an incident that remains unsolved. One b*****d son, who vanished with the lost. And a youngest member of the family, little Nate. The boy grew up here during his father's terms in office, and then upon his father's murder when he was only 19, he sat down in his father's chair and took up the reigns of the city. He didn't know then that he would be dead just two years thereafter.

But this place doesn't feel laden with grief. The pictures on the walls are portraits of powerful men and women who lived good lives, and a history of a bloodline that reaches all the way back to Ancient times.

The atmosphere is comfortable, relaxed, and stoic. The decor masculine and a spirited mix of modern and traditional. The smell of old books and leather permeates the area. The manor sits on the hill, and though it is ringed with devastated areas, the character of the building doesn't seem to have changed too much--like a calm and collected man facing his own destruction without so much as a lift of the eyebrows.


Sitting and Consultation:


Private Office:

She walks in exhausted her eyes prickling with tears but she will not give in to them just yet. She collapses on a comfortable chair behind the desk clutching Nate's tape in her hand. " Must we do this every time? " she asks but with no real spirit behind it.

He gets down on his knees in front of you and takes your hands.

He looks up, takes off the glasses, an brushes his hair out of his face, and just makes eye contact.

There is almost nothing there behind those eyes, but there's just a tiny bit of soul clinging to this old corpse.

I am begging you, Morigan. Give me legal authority to do anything I can to him. I have ways...

Ways you wouldn't want to know about.

He seems to appreciate, but it doesn't seem to be comfortable at all for him to be touched. He looks at her for a long moment, and gives a single nod.

He wants something. I think he sees me as a commodity. That puts you in danger. He struck me as a collector. Of people.

And he likes games. Petty little power games.

And he's done his research, probably has powerful friends in the city, or soon will.

So you got your work cut out for you.

He stands, and looks over his shoulder.

I want to keep my eyes on the perimeter.

I don't need to go find him now. When he's ready for another round, he will find me. But all of that time that we stall strategically, Spura could be suffering.

Eh, she's a tough little thing, she will last.

He says this so coldly. Spura is the closest thing he has to a loved one, but he doesn't seem to be capable of love. Extreme loyalty, yes, but not love.

You know, it's already changing you.

He gets up, about to head out, when he perks to attention and peeks out the window.

There's some little in your kitchen. Don't recognize him. He's making a sandwich. Want me to waste him?

He grins, knowing the answer is going to be "no"... but he has to ask.

He is leaning on her counter, next to a plate of crumbs, nibbling on a cookie, saving the center for last.

"Good evening, Morigan."

He smiles brightly at her. "You did well tonight, Lady Governess."

"Did you not recognize me? Well, forgive me my dear, but that's kind of the idea. Oh, be careful there!"

He sits down right across from her, and looks at her, holding out a hand out to offer to take hers. He still has his graceful ways about him, sparkling elder eyes, and cool charm.

"I've been out of commission for a while, so to speak. Your voice was the first I heard, that I recognized."

He folds his arms and rests them on the table, tapping the wood with his fingers.

"I don't remember what happened. I don't remember anything, really. I just remember walking down the street, listening to your speech, and being proud of you. Are we related?" It's an honest question. He blinks his eyes, watching you for an answer. He looks embarrassed.

"I know I trust you, I know your voice, your name.... I know this house, but I don't know who I am. Or really have the slightest clue why you're mad at me. Did I do something wrong?" He looks very concerned.