Harshing looked out into his olive orchard from the balcony. He turned around and walked into the dining room, marble floored with pretty plants all around. The table was set for two, the slaves were busy preparing exquisite food in the kitchens, he could smell the fish, the succulent meats, the cream of the desserts. He watched the fire, waiting for Isobel Beckett to come through.

He adjusted his purple regal dress robes and placed his black sorcerers hat smartly on his head, allowing his dark grey shoulder length hair flow from it in to a pony tail at the back of his head.

*Isobel strolled into the room. She was wearing a dress of a deep purple velvet that complimented her long, black hair. She looked regal when she entered, demanding attention and respect. She smiled when she saw Harshing. She had no idea why she was doing this, what compelled her to go on a date with a man that she had hated for so long, but now that she was actually doing it, it didn't seem so bad.*

Isobel:"Hello, Coldstone." *she greeted him kindly.*

"Isobel, a pleasure as always," he bowed slightly before pulling a seat out for her, gesturing she should sit on it. He made small talk as he did so. "Did you here about those executions yesterday?" he said with a certain delight. "Yet another batch added to the list of heretics and traitors."