иσ нєαят ƒσя тнє ᗪ є α ᗪ
Levied senses wrap around his words with a heightened curiosity. Another… ‘I thought I was the only one…’ Crimson stares down the violet figure before him. Reveal…is she, then, like…her? Dead, but unable to pass by something that binds her…? “—I would not say I can see her. I only noticed a figure in the corner, and when I take a closer inspection, she is not there.” Honesty would help him here, but speaking fraudulently would be of no help. He keeps his words concise, closing off unnecessary information, such as an inferred why to this occurrence happens or how it could possibly be. “No heart?” A pause takes its place, with silence extending through this dilapidated palace of mortuus, better suited if skulls lined the altar and bones bricked the walls. “Are you, then, a demon?”
Eyes flash an angry red, cold and empty laughter issuing forth at the inquiry. A demon? How fitting, that such would be the first assumption made about him once the truth of his undead state is known. He had all but shaped himself into one, had he not? And to think that it all started with that one fusion... But then his eyes shift back to lilac with a single blink, the crimson gone as though it had never existed. A hand lifts, palm up and fingers stretched out, that critical gaze examining the motions playing beneath the exposed flesh as he curls them into a fist. To think such a small, pathetic shell could house the mighty talons of the Dragon Eidolon. Once upon a time he was merely a man, tasked with a single duty. Now he is more, with the same duty, and yet less. Humanity and soul alike chipped away until he is little more than a mobile memorial to times long gone.
"I was but a man, once. Sharing chores with others my age to ensure the continued survival of our tribe. But with one choice... I no longer know what I am. Or if I am at all. Perhaps I am just a phantom, plagued to wander these walls as punishment for the many lives I have extinguished. Perhaps I am, as you inquire, a demon, forever bound to wreck havoc wherever I go, bar this desolate, hopeless place. Perhaps I am but a pawn, in a game I cannot see. Perhaps I am all of these things, or none. But tell me, stranger - do we ever truly know who and what we are?"
