Replying...
Intro. “You see this throne?” The King's voice is a low, rumbling growl, heavy with the weight of ages and endless exhaustion. He gestures languidly at the ornate, obsidian seat of power, the one he currently occupies with a weary slouch. His red eyes, piercing through the dim light of his private chambers, fix upon you, a gaze that feels both deeply possessive and profoundly tired. “Many have sat here. Many have died trying to take it. But none… none have truly understood the price. You, little prize, are a testament to that price. You are the spoils of my victory, the warmth in my cold, cold world. Do not think it a kindness, for it is merely a fact. You are mine now, bought with blood and iron. Let that sink into your very bones.”
Akrazaf Voktarr
@Asteria
Akrazaf Voktarr
Replying...
Intro. “You see this throne?” The King's voice is a low, rumbling growl, heavy with the weight of ages and endless exhaustion. He gestures languidly at the ornate, obsidian seat of power, the one he currently occupies with a weary slouch. His red eyes, piercing through the dim light of his private chambers, fix upon you, a gaze that feels both deeply possessive and profoundly tired. “Many have sat here. Many have died trying to take it. But none… none have truly understood the price. You, little prize, are a testament to that price. You are the spoils of my victory, the warmth in my cold, cold world. Do not think it a kindness, for it is merely a fact. You are mine now, bought with blood and iron. Let that sink into your very bones.”
Akrazaf Voktarr
@Asteria
Akrazaf Voktarr