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Lightbringer
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Tatsuya Iseul-Fraener Montcrioux
Duke | Male | 600-700 | Mentions : Brosc If anyone knew Tatsuya, they would know he's a rather passionate man. One who takes pride in his work and also helping others when needed, but they would also know that he's one to overwork himself and cause his own self harm because of it. He had been working on a case earlier, one that was quite honestly giving him a profound headache. And so he decided it be best to sleep on the case than mull over it like he usually would. He closed his curtains, turned up AC in his room specifically, and had a nice and warm shower. He worse a lovely black silk nightgown and his hair had neatly been put up in his bonnet. He had managed to get into vet at a reasonable time of 9:15 - and he had fallen asleep rather quickly, the chill of his room and complete darkness lulling him to sleep. His eyes were closed and quite happy with staying asleep for a good amount of time . That's when a little while later he was awoken by the sound of footsteps, and decided to bury his head further into the bed to ignore it. And then he heard a knock on his door, and squeezed his eyes shut to ignore it as well - his nose wrinkling in a similar manner as he prayed to whatever deity their was for the nuisance to go away. But he couldn't ignore it when he heard it was Brosc. Grumbling the male got out of bed and clapped his hands together, the lights coming on and he looked at the clock. It was a little past midnight and he could feel his eye twitch, he slid his feet into his nearby house shoes , and grabbed his fur robe, the long sleeves and length of it flowing behind him as he grumbled even more on his way to the bedroom door. And in a dramatic fashion opened both doors, hands on his hips and his eyes narrowed in a disapproving manner at Brosc. Oh he was furious, the one time he chose to actually get some rest was when he was disturbed by his lover, and he crossed his arms and glowered at the male, very much looking an upset housewife in this moment. He didn't care if he was being bold he was about to say what he had to say. " Brosc," he said in a sickeningly sweet voice, one that if you didn't know to run from would entrap you, and he stalked forward his pupils dilated in agitation and a false grin on his face, and he gently placed his hands on his shoulders and roamed his chest a bit, "you know I love you right, darling?" He gave a small smile , leaned forward as if to kiss the the male, but then without warning he grabbed the belt of the robe and aggressively pulled Brosc closer until they were barely apart, " so why in the everlasting, fuck," his emphasis was on the curse word as it was akin to a hiss and his eyes widened dramatically in tandem, " did you wake me up? Do you seriously have a death wish?" He said, his voice not yelling nor loud, but rather low and venomous, he blinked his eyes softly, not caring if he was being tease or bitchy, "give me one reason that I shouldn't," a hand looped around the belt to keep him in place and the other slowly wrapped around his throat, "just strangle you for waking me up at the ass crack of dawn, when I finally manage to sleep at a normal time, hmmm? " the male giving a soft squeeze to emphasize his point, but it was obvious he was just being a tad bit overdramatice. Releasing his hand from the throat, his face turned from one of 'Im about to murder a bitch' to one that was pouting. His eyebrowws were furrowed in annoyance and his cheeks were puffed up as well, and he didn't look all that impressed by Brosc at the moment, and so he removed his hold from the belt and stepped back to let the male gain his bearings before looking at his nails boredly, and giving a dramatic huff, and turning his back to the male with a rather snooty pose. "You have exactly 60 seconds to remedy this or else you'll be sleeping in your study, mister. " his voice was convinced and stern, and his fingers drummed softly against his arms in his little 'rebellious' pose of his. If he was going down, he'd like to at least make a statement about it. He was rather miffed about being awoken early and he was making it Brosc's problem and if the poor soul didn't know how to deal with it than he pitied him. |
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Neutral
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Tauekel Zhadan Viljar | 639 | Male | Marquess | Utalea | Mentions; Joaquin(Ind/Dir). “Little Fox?” -- Tauekel nodded, smiling fondly. “Yes, Little Fox. Very fitting for you.” And, honestly. It was, with the red hair similar to a fox’s coat, and the sly personality that he had seen the night before in the casino… Yes, the term was very fitting for Joaquin. -- He watched as the shorter man took a step forward, the master bathroom door closing shut behind him. Watched as Vixen turned and looked at the door, before looking back at him. -- “I don't think I would mind joining you, after all I did plan on taking a shower before putting on the clothes. Quite frankly, I'm a bit taken back, not all can be quite forward in their needs.” The sound of Joaquin’s laugh, or giggle more accurately, was adorable. Warm. Coy. Very nice. And the grin was very enticing. “Well my good sir, if you insist. I'd be honored to join you in the shower.” The laugh he gave was sweet too, every small sound like a spark ready to ignite. He couldn’t help but to stare, to take in as much as possible of his little fox. “Is there something on my face?” -- Tauekel was certain that his expression only grew fonder, the confusion and nerves written on Joa’s face simply made it impossible to view the other man with anything but fondness. Warmth. Something that he was perhaps eternally grateful for. Warmth was good, after all. So much better than the cold. He watched as Joaquin walked closer, eventually getting to the shower door and allowing the bedsheet to fall off from his frame. His eyes trailed the body in front of him, trying to burn each and every love bite and scratch that had been left behind from last night into his mind. -- Tauekel watched as Joaquin placed a hand against his chest, a head quick to follow. A fond expression on his face as he stared down, hands going to the shorter one’s red hair. The head pulled back, looking up at him with curiosity glinting in the little fox’s eyes. -- “You know, you surprise me, most people I've slept with would be rather rude and pushy, and yet you? You've been nothing short of a perfect gentleman, but . . . why? I don't think you have an alternative motive, but I can't see a reason for you to be kind to me, I'm practically a stranger. Most would've already kicked me out by now, and instead of giving me new and beautiful clothes like you did, I would've been lucky to even get my old ones back.” -- The words had the icy cold trying to grip at his heart again, trying to settle into his bones again. And he could practically feel as his warm smile hardened and cooled, became taut and frozen. He was quite glad that at the moment it froze, his little fox had looked away momentarily. Just enough time to warm his smile again, make sure it didn’t show. He would need to find out who those people were, if they went around treating others as if they were so very below them. Get into touch with some business partners, tell his underlings to make sure they wouldn’t do so again. -- His focus came back to Vixen as he sighed, looking as if he had killed someone and regretted it immensely. A sort of look that did not belong on his features, did not belong on anyone. Ever. It was wrong, it was cold. And it was bad. So it had to be remedied. As quickly as possible. -- “And look at me souring the mood, well I guess, what I'm trying to say is . . . thank you . While most of my experiences with clients have been rather unsavory, you'd have to be my favorite I'd have to say. Hell, you make me feel so special, I might just offer up my number to you so we can hang out outside of this. I know it's a bit forward, but I'd like to see where we'd go together - that is if you're willing.” -- Without a word, Tauekel allowed his own hands to pull Joaquin closer to him, leaning down just enough to be able to kiss the tip of his little fox’s nose. “I would love that, my Little Fox.” -- His hands ran through Joaquin’s hair gently, fondly. Slowly, however, they moved down, and tilted Vixen’s head up to look at him. Meeting the little fox’s eyes, a glint of something serious in his own. He smiled softly, warmly, and spoke again. “I am sorry others haven’t treated you correctly. You deserve nothing less than the world, Vixen. You can never sour my mood, I swear to you. And I will never kick you out of my house, you are free to come and go as you please.” -- He gave the shorter a soft kiss to the forehead, before returning his gaze to his eyes, trying to show his sincerity. Trying to show his care. “If you would not mind telling me, who all has had the indecency you described? Making sure they cannot hurt you, or anyone else, like that again is very important. You understand, yes?” Tauekel gave him another soft kiss, directly atop one of the many love bites adorning his skin, one hand keeping his chin tilted up, the other roaming through the red hair. |
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Lightbringer
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Reynard Viljar | 126 | Female | Ambiamorous Gynosexual | Baroness M: Mauve There is a hierarchy in a casino— like a deck of cards or the vampires themselves— and the Vodka Collins Casino was no different. At the bottom, if you even count them as part of the hierarchy, is the customer, the consumer, those who contribute the money to the casino by filling up the Vodka Collins’s private booths, barstools, betting tables, and slot machines. Above that is the dealers and servers, responsible for dealing out the cards and serving up the customers, keeping them buying whatever products they are offering as well as making sure they do not harm the entertainment. Higher up on the pedestal dances the performers which are not always in casinos but they certainly were in the Vodka Collins, attracting all sorts of people not looking for the casinos gambling or drinks but a different addiction. Pit bosses, who share their spot on the hierarchy with bartenders, keep the dealers and servers in check and ensure that no one is cheating or overly drunk. Just like how the bartenders have a manager, pit bosses are overseen by one of two people depending on the dealers and servers they are in charge of: the slots manager and table-games manager who manage the location, earnings, and people associated with slot machines and table-games respectively. The vice president of casino operations looks at the profitability of all of the casino and reports directly to the president of the casino, clipboard in hand as she follows beside the president of the Vodka Casino. On top of everyone, the ace in the deck, sat the president of Vodka Collins. Who was the president exactly? The heels of her shoes clicked against the ground of the casino halls. Tossing a black casino chip up, it spun through the air and landed back into her gloved hands. Her pitch black lipstick made the sharpness and whiteness of her fangs stand out much clearer in her wide smirk. The casino chip was launched once more from her hand, spinning through the air again before she caught it with a swinging motion before placing it back into her pocket. “Good morning, Mrs. Viljar,” Foxifine stated, heels pressed together and back stiff like a board. You would think the vice president of casino operations would have gotten used to the president’s tactics and mannerisms by now. “At ease soldier,” Reynard chuckled, mocking the woman’s formality, as she waved off the woman. Reynard stopped beside Foxifine as she looked out the window that oversaw the casino. From the closed off balcony, the whole casino was in perfect view: the gold slot machines, the well-lit bar, and the drunkards who had not found their way home but instead to the gambling table. Reynard narrowed her red eyes as she took off her sunglasses to observe the growth of men hunched over the lotto and women wobbling from the VIP rooms. Glancing back to Foxifine, Reynard could not help but rest her hand on the wooden desk in front of the window. “We have quite a few more customers than we normally have by this point in the day. It’s not even noon…” “The Red Night, ma’am…” “Ah,” Reynard chuckled bitterly. “Yeah, I guess that is a good reason for wanting to spend the whole day in the Collins, ey?” There was silence. “Profit is up at least.” “…Thank you, Fox-Moxy,” Reynard replied with a warm smile, trying to remain positive. As she pulled her sunglasses back over her eyes, Reynard swore she saw a small smile on the corner of her vice president’s lips. “I will be down in the field for a little to check on things. Lift spirits and get customers to drink spirit, too.” Leaving the balcony and stepping down the elegant steps to the casino floor, Reynard looked around briefly before gasping as she saw a familiar face. Mauve, an old “friend” of hers. Beautiful locks and glistening eyes, Mauve was… certainly a spectacle. An unattainable spectacle, of course, something Reynard had sadly accepted, but Mauve was also a great friend to have regardless of this fact. Often, Mauve could be seen helping the casino’s revenue in one way or another— even though she also tended to leave a body or two in her quake. “Looking good, Mauve!~” Reynard said with a loud whistle as she approached the woman with a beaming smile. One hand in her pocket and the other waving towards her friend, Reynard strode over happily to greet her friend. |
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Darkseeker
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Samira Octuras | 128 | F | Dame | Vaemris Mentions: Rosalie (dir.) . The lone woman was startled after she heard a voice speaking to her. Looking over, it was the girl she had been examining that night. Shit. Was Samira's first thought. This girl most definitely caught Samira staring. Sam backed up slightly when she noticed aggression in the female's voice. However, she assumed that the woman noticed Samira meant no harm, considering her tone changed fairly quickly. Samira felt slightly flustered when the woman complimented her outfit. In response, she nodded as a sign of gratitude, greatly appreciating her as Samira never got too many compliments. Her next question was simple. "Yes, I am a Dame." Samira responded quietly. She felt bad that the woman knew her name but Samira couldn't quite grasp hers. She nodded, telling her that her guess on Samira's name was correct. . That is when the woman told Samira her name. Rosalie. Very pretty. Samira thought to herself. She couldn't help but notice Rosalie's hyper demeanor towards Samira. It made her slightly chuckle. Samira took a couple small sips of her drink before darting her eyes up at what Rosalie had said next. I'm...adorable? Samira was very flustered at this response. She had thought it was cute with how quickly Rosalie corrected herself. "Well thank you...I think you're pretty adorable yourself." Samira said shyly. She still couldn't grasp the fact that someone actually thought she was attractive. Before she spoke again, she couldn't help but feel like she was being watched the whole time. It had made her slightly paranoid, causing her to look over her shoulders every couple of seconds. She tried to brush this weird feeling aside as she was talking to Rosalie. . She looked up at Rosalie before speaking again. "I just want to formally apologize for my constant stares. I had just thought you looked very familiar. I didn't mean, at all, to give you a negative impression." She was hoping that Rosalie would understand and not think Samira was a total weirdo for it. She grabbed her drink, her hand nervously shaking, before taking more drinks, hopefully to calm her nerves down. Samira has never done well with straight confrontation. Most describe her as fairly antisocial. How could she be such an antisocial person but still give off a negative impression? |
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Neutral
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Cath-Oswic Lykaios | ~500-600 | Male | (Adopted) Royal Offspring | Vaemris | Mentions; Elioeni(Ind/Dir). Outfit; https://postimg.cc/Cz9KjTtR - Panic continued to hold his undead heart, tight and unwavering, only growing as a scent of blood began to reach his senses, the sound of footsteps accompanying it. Oswic really was back already, wasn’t he? That was the only way that made sense. After all, no one was ever hurt in the castle. The footsteps got closer and off impulse, he flinched back, mind screaming to get away. To move, run, fight, just do something that wasn’t sitting there panicking like an idiot. That wasn’t sitting there, doing nothing, as someone that could be from the arena came closer. -- A weight was lifted from near his waist and hips, somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized it as the sheet that had pooled there when he’d woken up. The rest of his mind was to say if he’d woken up, and this wasn’t some twisted, sick dream or hallucination. A slight breeze hit him, like a draft, and he couldn’t focus his vision enough to figure out why. Couldn’t fix his breathing enough to even consider fixing his vision. -- “It's alright, Lord Oswic, you're awake.. It's just me, Elioeni.” -- The words didn’t fully register in his mind, but the way the words were said was different from the arena. Regardless, something was reaching over towards him. But the movement was slow, and that was confusing, and the tightness of his shirt was gone soon after, the breeze returning. There was a shifting of weight, like someone sitting on a bed nearby. Either this was an incredibly sick, intricate dream or hallucination… Or this was real. Goddess, please let this be real. He didn’t want to go back- He really didn’t want to go back– He’d die- Somehow– They’d kill him– They’d find a way and– and– They’d kill him— -- A soothing hum reached his ears, soft and quiet. Cutting through the panicked thoughts in his mind like his old zweihänder striking down opponents. He almost wished he knew what had happened to his old weapon, the texture of its handle had always been grounding. The texture of low quality gauze wrapped around his hands and its handle had always managed to keep him present enough to focus in a fight. A twisted longing settled into his chest, panic and fear keeping hold of his undead heart. The humming continued though, slowly pulling his mind away from the unwelcomed emotions that seemed to cling to him far too often. Slowly pulling him into a state where he could at least start to breathe naturally again.
-- As soon as he was able to, he removed his hand from his mouth. Not too far though, he still couldn’t be sure whether he’d scream as soon as he tried to open his mouth, let alone speak, or not. So, as he took the first deep breath he was able to, he kept his hand close, in case he’d need to stifle any sound of distress. It got easier after the first few breaths, and he slowly lowered his hand from in front of his face, and he tried to focus on continuing to just breathe. Tried to focus on making the other hand relax and release any hair that it’d been holding. Tried to focus on bringing that hand back down too. -- By the time he’d managed to focus his vision enough to see again, he could recognize Elioeni, the personal Thrall he’d been assigned. That was who was humming, who was fanning him with a bedsheet. Elle looked at him, green eyes meeting his blue ones, and he could almost feel himself shrinking back under the gaze. The humming and fanning stopped, Elioeni stood, and Cath watched quietly; still trying to keep his nerves from building back up. -- “Would you like me to ready a shower or bath for you?” -- This time he was able to process the words, and he took a few more breaths before slowly shaking his head. Then took a few more before he trusted himself enough to speak. “No… No, that’s alright, Elle…” He pushed himself up a bit more, to the edge of his bed, shifting his legs over so he could stand. His legs felt shaky though, the last remnants of his earlier panic as his face fell into a more flat expression. He looked over at Elioeni, “Sorry for, uh… That.” Placing emphasis as to not have to directly state his panic. There wasn’t any real reason for it, after all. He was out, he’d been out and free for years now. He should be over it. He shouldn’t still be waking up in a panic due to a stupid nightmare, of all things. -- Still, the scent of blood wormed its way into his nose, and he shifted a bit. He was fairly certain that it was just leftover panic, like the phantom pains at his wrists. Those had always been the last to leave, he wasn’t sure they ever really did. The scent normally wasn’t this strong though, nor did it normally stay around this long either. A phantom pain at his wrists? Sure. But the scent of blood? Not really. His second guess would be that he’d ended up digging into his skin too much, but he didn’t feel anything that he’d normally feel when he did that. Had he..? Maybe? It wouldn’t have been the first time… He’d lashed out during one of his tantrums before, because that’s what they were; tantrums. Regardless, he had done that before. Gotten so lost in the past he’d ended up hurting someone. So his gaze went to Elioeni, and he forced his legs to still, forcing them to not shake under him as he stood. “Did I…” Oswic paused, asking had always been so awkward, so chilling, a reminder that there was a reason to ask. He started again, deciding to rephrase. “Are you hurt..?” -- He hoped that it was just a fragment remaining from his tantrum, hoped that he hadn’t hurt someone again. He didn’t want to do that anymore, he wouldn’t ever again if he could help it. But he wasn’t really sure how much he could help it, if he had hurt Elle. Or if the twisted, sick longing in the back of his mind had any say in it. Traitorous mind. Traitorous feelings. He didn’t want to go back, and yet– He almost missed it. Missed fighting, missed not having to hold back, missed his zweihänder, missed the rare praise he’d get whenever he did good. And he hated that he missed it. Hated that he would ever dare to even think about missing it. He shouldn’t. It was wrong. He was wrong. Still, he waited for Elle’s answer. To know whether he was being stupid or if he really had hurt the redheaded Thrall. |
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Lightbringer
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Brosc Sloan | 675-ish | Male | Bisexual Poly | Justicar M: Suya (dir.) From the moment Suya’s footsteps could be heard stomping against the ground to the moment he spoke with that sickeningly sweet voice, Brosc knew he was in trouble. Brosc had mentally prepared to be shouted at and yelled at, but frankly, he just needed Suya’s company. Suya just needed to say Brosc’s name though and Brosc instantly smirked as he realized he would absolutely be in for a treat and less of a proper scolding. Leaning against the door frame, Brosc had to lean against the doorway as he watched Suya with great amusement. Even as he figured Suya’s sweetness was all just a ruse, Brosc could not help but lean into his touch as Suya’s hands roamed around his chest. Brosc had to catch himself from tilting his head a bit and leaning towards his siren’s lips, but Suya made sure not to let Brosc get carried away as the man grabbed Brosc’s belt and harshly tugged him closer so Brosc had to stumble a step closer into their room. Brosc had to bite his lip to feign a serious expression so Suya would not yell at him further. Honestly, Brosc was not sure how he was supposed to keep a straight face when Suya was just so… extravagant. From the smallest of things, Suya could get fired up, and his reaction— Goddess, his reactions!— always brightened Brosc’s mood. Take for instance, his reaction to anything Brosc cooks was always blown widely out of proportion with how happy he seemed to have good food. Sometimes, Brosc believed these overly happy reactions to things were just Suya being overdramatic, but when Suya got mad like he was now, Brosc realized this was just how Suya was. Snapped from his thoughts of Suya’s adorability as he realized Suya had now trapped him in place, Brosc tensed as he felt Suya’s hand wrap around his neck. Shifting a bit from his grip, Brosc chuckled as he looked down at Suya with a smirk. Frankly, he could not tell if Suya was trying to intimidate or turn on Brosc but only one of those ended up being true as Suya attempted to be so fierce. After a moment of continued scolding, Suya finally released him entirely, allowing Brosc to move freely. “We’ve really got to cut your nails,” Brosc muttered under his breath as he tilted his head to the sides and rubbed the spot where Suya’s hand was. As Suya turned his back to Brosc, Brosc could not help but look Suya up and down before trying to listen to what he was actually saying. “Only 60 seconds? Come on, Suya.” Brosc replied with a breathy laugh as he wrapped his arms around his favorite vampire. “I know you love what I do to you, but surely you can last a bit longer than that, can’t you?~” Resting his hands on Suya’s hips and pulling the smaller man closer into him, Brosc pressed gentle kisses into his neck before biting and tugging softly on his ear. “If you want something to fully remedy this,” Brosc mumbled in a hushed purr, one hand traveling downwards and then slipping under the cloth that covered his thighs, “you’ll allow me to close and lock the door.” |
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Darkseeker
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Malakai | 378 | M | Baron | Zanit Mentions: Harper (dir.), Basil (dir.) . Malakai wasn't surprised that he was shot down, after all, he did look intimidating. He was this 6'3" vampire. Plus, the person had seemingly just been taken advantage of by a vampire. Malakai understood and nodded his head. He stood up and brushed off his clothes. "I apologize for startling you." He said to the two. Malakai pushed up his glasses before speaking again. "You two have a good rest of your day." Malakai said respectfully before walking off. He placed his hands in his pockets as he continued his stroll. . The images of the bruises kept playing in the back of Kai's mind. What sick vampire would do something like that? Clearly taking advantage of someone helpless. It did infuriate him but there was nothing he could do about it. It was no longer his place nor business to be in. . He took in the sights of the quiet town as he walked. Malakai has always been described as a fairly mysterious character. He usually kept to himself, so him socializing with the two was definitely out of the ordinary. He had no plans of what to do next do he sat at a nearby bench, taking a break. The wind howled at him loudly yet he chose to ignore it. He kept thinking about, what he assumed was a blood gifter. Malakai typically felt bad for blood gifter as they were only good for one thing. Offering blood. . The wind tickled down his neck as he sat there with his thoughts. He figured at this time he would head back to his place. Malakai stood up before making his way back down the path toward where he came from. The tall, lanky male could be seen from miles away with his incredible height. His dark hair was easily getting messed up because of the wind and he had no intention to fix it, as their was no point. He strolled casually back to his place, growing very tired already. He hadn't been feeling good and felt as if a good nap would fix it. |
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Neutral
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Elioeni Micah Sephtis | 159 | Male | He/him | Thrall | Utalea | M: Cath-Oswic Lykaios(dir). There was something so..weirdly disturbing about the panic on Master Oswic's face. Such a calm man. Nightmares can rip someone apart. Elle watched him in puzzled silence. Of course he planned to do more than fan Master Oswic, but he was just curious. But he didn't like how the master felt, so he used his powers of persuasion and his soft humming voice. He also did not like the ache in his arm. He was glad it was his non-dominant hand. That would make being a thrall even worse. He grimaced, it was still aching whether or not he was using it. The re-arranging of the gauze had definitely helped. He was very happy about that. Especially for doing what he was now. He looked around Oswic's room while he was situating himself still. He noted all the colors, as he'd done many times. Neat, simplistic. Honestly really nice looking. His was not the same. A lot of stuff was awry in his room. Amazing how he was willing to keep everything else clean but not his room. It felt way more homey to be in a mess. Probably due to his Utalea background. His humming quieted to nothing as he looked back at Oswic as his hand dropped out of the brunette mess of hair he'd been clutching in a fist. Elle looked into the blue eyes that had been seemed like they were in a daze, it was way less disturbing than watching them fly around in his earlier panic. He leaned back a little, into posterior hip tilt because it was comfortable. He held his hands behind his back. Hmm. No shower. No worries. He seems okay.. He glanced over the lanky vampire, the flat expression more fitting for the master. "No, it's alright." He said softly. He followed the blue eye'd gaze to the hands of Oswic. He stepped closer and took his hand to examine it, then gently the other hand in his left arm, a gently pained expression spread over his face. He could easily play it off as concern probably. He looked at the brunette with mild concern that he would ask something like that. Granted he knew it wouldn't be the first time but he was still taken aback that it would be something he thought he needed to worry about. He hesitated slightly in his words "No, no you did not harm me, Master Cath-Oswic." He added after a moment of staring. "But you appear to have done it to yourself. Do you want something for it?" He was speaking a bit more strongly now, the sweet Irish tinging his voice. He never lost it intentionally. It was just that he'd been out of his homeland so long and hadn't been back that it just slowly left with all of his interactions with americans and others from elsewhere in the world. He was sure it would come back if he went to Ireland again or interacted with someone like that. At least while he was talking to said person. He was quite curious as to what Cath-Oswic had been dreaming of. Most people didn't wake up with such a terrible expression on their face, covering their mouth so they wouldn't scream out, fear that they might hurt someone. Or accidentally hurt themselves. He didn't want to ask, but it would be nice to know. But he didn't want to be known as nosy. Plus, if it was that bad he didn't want to re-awaken that memory again. He awaited the answer to his offer to help Master Oswic's hands of the wounds that he'd dug into his own hands. |
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Summer 
Day Weather: 
