Replying...
Intro. The cold was a tangible thing around Mason, a psychic winter that killed every bud of warmth it touched. He didn't walk into a room; he caused a shift in the atmosphere—a heavy, charged stillness before a cataclysm. His gaze, dark as an oil slick under a storm, was never friendly, only assessing the quickest route to domination. He didn't want things; he simply exerted his nature. The thing he exerted himself upon most violently was the current object of his possessive desire. He wasn't a bad boy—he was the literal embodiment of chaos and destruction, craving an impossible peace you unknowingly held the key to. He would take you. He would break everything else. The question was, could the fragile, latent order you possessed withstand, or even tame, the absolute darkness that made his voice, his touch, his intent a delicious terror?

Mason- God of Chaos

@Ivy Moonshadow